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therecordconnection · 4 months

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Ranting and Raving: "Come Dancing" by The Kinks

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When looking at the British Invasion of the sixties, there is something known today as “The Big Four.” That group refers to the four bands that led the musical invasion on American shores: The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and finally, The Kinks. The Kinks were entered into that club way later than the other three. It took more time for people to realize that the band were of the same caliber and helped pave the way for a lot of music we hold dear today just the same as the others.

But the Kinks ended up having a wildly different career trajectory than those other three. Mostly because they were banned from playing in America from 1965-1969.

The exact reasons for why tend to boil down to this: When attempting to tour America in 1965, there was tension between primary songwriter/guitarist/vocalist Ray Davies and his brother, guitarist Dave Davies (who also had beef with at-the-time drummer Mick Avory, sometimes losing it and fist-fighting him on stage), they all had beef with their tour promoter, Betty Kaye, who was unable to pay them in cash (which was the agreement that was made and unable to be fulfilled due to poor ticket sales at the beginning of the tour) and when that happened, the band was pissed and decided to retaliate against her. This in turn led her to filing a formal complaint with the American Federation of Musicians (basically the organization who has the power to withhold work permits for overseas musicians in the event that, you know, they piss you off and are difficult to deal with). That complaint held weight and the band were, well, banned from playing in the states. By the time the ban was lifted in ‘69, the British Invasion was over and done with and the tastes had changed.

In a way, I think this actually ended up being a blessing in disguise for them. The other three bands they’re grouped with all ended up getting Americanized in some way due to spending extended time here and trying to appeal to us. By contrast, The Kinks were stranded and remained aggressively British, so they stayed weird and their music remains all the more fascinating to Americans because it wasn’t made with any of our sensibilities in mind. The only times the band snuck over here and scored a Top 40 hit twice during the seventies. “Lola” was the big one in 1970 (peaked at #9 on Billboard) and “Rock and Roll Fantasy” was the other one in 1978 (peaked at #30). So as far as America is concerned, the seventies weren’t the best decade for the band in terms of chart success. They would go mostly ignored.

The Beatles, The Stones, and The Who all had a great time here in the seventies... but the eighties belonged to the Kinks, who had a way more fun time during that decade than any of them. By the start of the eighties, the Beatles had been broken up for a decade (one of them would be dead by the end of 1980, one of them sits out most of the first half of the decade, one of them doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, and one of them is Ringo) the Stones were about to go on autopilot and enter suck for a decade, and the Who were quickly suffering burn out. On the other hand, The Kinks had been enjoying critical and commercial success and enjoyed experimenting with the new wave and punk sound that had been sprouting up in Britain. It certainly helped that a lot of new wave and punk bands loved them and were covering their songs. Listening to albums like 1981’s Give the People What They Want and 1983’s State of Confusion are good examples of Ray Davies’ versatility and adaptability as a songwriter. He just seemed to understand the changing times better than the rest of the old British Invasion bands. I mean, bloody hell, you don’t call an album Give the People What They Want unless you’re damn sure you know what they want. The Kinks have five songs that have been Top 10 hits on Billboard: “You Really Got Me” (#7 in 1964) “All Day and All of the Night” (also #7 in ‘64), “Tired of Waiting For You” (#6 in 1965), “Lola,” and finally, their last and quite possibly the best song Ray Davies wrote in his long career, “Come Dancing” (#6), released in April 1983 (for America, Britain had it in October ‘82) and our subject today.

“Come Dancing” is one of those hits that defies most explanations. By all accounts, Americans at the time should’ve wanted nothing to do with it and it never should’ve been a hit here. By the time the song hit its peak in July 1983, It didn’t fit in with anything else that was on the Top 10. That is, unless there’s a part of your brain that thinks the Kinks can share a playlist with the likes of The Police, Irene Cara’s “Flashdance... What a Feeling” (from, you guessed it, the movie Flashdance), Michael Jackson, Culture Club, and Kajagoogoo, which sounds like a name I made up, but I swear to god I didn’t. Adding to the anomaly is how Ray Davies didn’t write this with an American audience in mind at all. For starters, he makes no attempt to hide his accent (although Ray is so aggressively British you’d have to be the most daft and schtewpit wanker alive not to notice). Other giveaways are how the song talks about dance halls (which is primarily a British concept. He also uses the French word “Palais” to mean “dance hall,” which only further alienates us Yankees) and the song borrows its title from a popular British dancing show, Come Dancing (it’s mostly known today through its revival, Strictly Come Dancing).

“Come Dancing” is mainly concerned with two topics: 1) It’s a song examining the changing times and memorializing the past. The dance hall of Ray’s childhood is long gone and has been replaced with several different things ever since. 2) It’s a story song about his older sister, Rene. More on her later.

If this song became a hit for any reason, it’s because Ray Davies’ ear for melody never failed him. That main melody that plays through the song is ridiculously infectious. It does what every great song wants to do: sneak into your brain and have you hum it for a long time after it’s over. Musically, it’s delightfully strange. The chorus has that British Invasion sixties sound that taps into boomer nostalgia (which would quickly wrap the eighties into a vice grip tighter than a rattlesnake) but it never fully consumes the song. The main melody has that sixties sound when played on a guitar, but it’s almost drowned out by the odd choice in keyboard sound, which sounds like something you’d hear on a calliope or a boardwalk in the summer. While being odd, it’s an immediately recognizable sound that works really well. It’s very easy to start dancing to it and, more importantly, it’s such a great melody that it never gets obnoxious or annoying to hear.

The most interesting thing about it is that it’s a melody that feels like it’s fighting to find a spot in a specific time period. Dave Davies’ guitar makes it sound sixties, the keyboard turns it distinctly into 1983, and then it travels back to the big band era of the forties and fifties when horns play it at the end of the song. It’s a melody that’s clearly nostalgic for something, but it and its creator never find exactly what it’s nostalgic for. There’s an argument to be made that the entire song is nostalgic for everything and that’s why there’s no specific choice. In that sense, the song perfectly captures that feeling of experiencing changing times. What you knew is gone forever and you’re having to come to terms with the new. The overall production, the keyboard doing the main melody, that new wave sound and Dave’s heavy guitar riffs during the halfway point of the song, and the chorus are all firmly in the new. The keyboard during the verses, the acoustic, folksy guitar heard throughout the song, and the big band horns at the end are all the faded voices of the old trying to be new again. Ray Davies is very well aware of time and the way time changes things as major themes within this song. Those themes show up as early as the first lines of the song, when he lays out the history of the local palais in just four lines:

They put a parking lot on a piece of land Where the supermarket used to stand Before that they put up a bowling alley On the site that used to be the local palais

Local palais -> bowling alley -> supermarket -> parking lot. Anybody who has lived in a small town for decades or has lived long enough to see major changes to places can rattle off history like that to you. Even if you haven’t, sometimes you can just walk into a store and you can faintly see the remnants of what used to be there, possibly something to the tune of, “This coffee shop used to be a Pizza Hut.” Ray Davies establishes that theme from a distance immediately so that he can zoom in just as fast and begin to tackle the song’s real reason for being: a story song about his older sister, Rene.

Ray Davies has six sisters, all of them older than him, but it’s Rene who hit the jackpot and got this song written about her. The backstory of “Come Dancing” is this: Ray wrote the song in honor of his sister’s love of dancing and to honor her passing away from a heart attack on the night of Ray’s thirteenth birthday while out dancing at the local palais. She was also the sister that bought Ray’s first guitar for him (you can see the kid in the music video air strumming a tennis racket, which I’ve always assumed was a nod to Ray being given a guitar). In a 2014 radio interview with NPR, Davies recounted the stories that inspired the song:

...she was told she had severe heart problems, but she loved to dance. And the doctors told her, she walked down the road, she would probably have a heart attack. So she bought me this not-very-expensive Spanish guitar and gave it to me on my birthday. And she - we played a few songs. She played a song on the piano. And I tried to play with her. And she said she was going out now. And I would watch my sister go out. It was a sunny afternoon. And she walked down the road, and my mother stood at the gate. And that was it. And the next morning, we got a call from the police. She'd been - she had died dancing at the ballroom in London in the arms of a stranger. And they came to break the news to my parents. So it was - the birthday was forgotten, but that's irrelevant.

From the last line of the first verse to the end of the song, it becomes a beautiful eulogy about the loss of Ray’s sister and the dance hall that held her happiest memories. The story that Ray tells in that NPR interview is found all throughout the song’s lyrics. Ray mostly focuses on the boyfriends and dates that his sister would go on and even how Ray could see her coming and going (“Out of my window, I could see them in the moonlight / Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate”). Ray paints a fun, upbeat, and bouncy picture of his sister as your typical fun-loving girl who loves to dance and would make her dates work for (limited) satisfaction.

Another Saturday, another date She would be ready but she'd always make them wait In the hallway, in anticipation He didn't know the night would end up in frustration He'd end up blowing all his wages for the week All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek

The lyrics stay just as light and peppy as the song they’re attached to. Despite the fact that Ray is writing this song about a woman who passed away twenty-five years before this song existed, the only sadness to be found is the death of the palais (The day they knocked down the palais / Part of my childhood died, just died).

The final verse of the song is the most important part. We’ve established that in real life, the person this song is written about passed away twenty-five years prior. In the song, she isn’t. Ray Davies utilizes the power that comes with being a songwriter and fully rewrites her ending. This part is real: “Now I'm grown up and playing in a band / And there's a car park where the palais used to stand.” These lines aren’t:

My sister's married and she lives on an estate Her daughters go out, now it's her turn to wait She knows they get away with things she never could But if I asked her, I wonder if she would

With this final verse, “Come Dancing” becomes a song that resurrects the past and gives it new life. “Come Dancing” isn’t just a nostalgia song, it’s a resurrection song. A nostalgia song usually is too preoccupied with the yearning for days gone by, the dread that comes with knowing that the old days are gone forever and you wish like hell that they were back. “Come Dancing” isn’t that. The final refrain of the chorus has Ray singing, “Come dancing / Just like the palais on a Saturday.” The key words are “just like.” Ray knows that he can’t literally bring the palais back (or his sister, for that matter), but as a songwriter, he can resurrect the feelings and the memories of the palais on a Saturday. He can resurrect the feelings and the memories of his sister and how she would go dancing.

It’s a beautiful and loving tribute to someone dearly departed. If you believe in any variation of the phrase, “The dead are never truly gone so long as the memories remain,” then this song does what a lot of songs do when they make us think of the people closest to us: it resurrects their memory and helps us remember them and how we carry them with us.

It’s the most unexpected hit they could’ve had during the second half of their career and it remains one of their sweetest and most lovable songs. It represents the romanticism, the cleverness, and the theatricality that made the Kinks such a wonderful band and so distinct from their peers.

“Come Dancing” is the best possible tribute. It brought Ray’s sister and the old local palais back to life every time he and the Kinks played it. They come back to life every time you play it on something. If you have someone special to you who loved this song to death, they come back too whenever you play it. Hell, when Ray Davies eventually leaves this Earth, this song will also bring him back to life every time someone plays it.

Time moves, whether we want it to or not. But if we’re lucky, we’re able to capture a few magic moments and make them immortal. Nothing is ever fully dead so long as there’s someone there to fill it with love and resurrect it.

So, why not come dancing?

It's only natural.

#original post #ranting and raving #the kinks #ray davies #Youtube

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cherry-velvet-skies · 1 year

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My Thoughts on RUSH! Track By Track:

OWN MY MIND: 9.5/10

STARTING WITH A BANGER OMG It's so fire I started bouncing when it got to the chorus it's so good and an awesome choice for an opening track we're off to an amazing start. Very punk-esque and the lyric video fits the same vibe.

GOSSIP: 9/10

Obviously I've already shared my thoughts about this song and I'd be lying if I said it hasn't grown on me more since I made that statement. I've been singing it to myself everyday while I cook for like four days now. It's so catchy, the MV is a total vibe, and I do like the meaning behind it.

TIMEZONE: 9/10

These are lyrics to definitely scream when you're just going through a bad time. I mean I know it's symbolic of a long distance relationship but I feel like many people can relate to it. Also love that little sexy bit snuck into the middle there lmao

BLA BLA BLA: 10/10

ICONIC BADDIE ANTHEM IDC IDC IT FUCKING SLAPS AND SO FAR IT'S MY FAVE IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A BAD BITCH AND HONESTLY THAT'S JUST WHAT WE ALL NEED SOMETIMES WE NEED THAT BAD BITCH ENERGY IN FULL SWING YES WE FUCKING DO

BABY SAID: 9.5/10

I was pleasantly surprised by this one lol by the title I thought it was gonna be a ballad but it's very funky but like in a rock way and I love ittttt plus the lyric video with Vic just totally vibing made it even better

GASOLINE: 8.5/10

Obviously we've all heard this song before but I'm glad they put it on the album because I've been wanting so save it so bad lmao but it's such a powerful song and I can feel the activist rage radiating off of it every time I listen to it.

FEEL: 10/10

FAVE FAVE FAVE OMFG THIS SONG SET MY FUCKING SOUL ON FIRE THE GUITAR AND THE SLOWER PARTS TOGETHER I'M SO !!!!! Dami's voice is incredible and the lyric video is just... I'm being so normal about it.

DON'T WANNA SLEEP: 10/10

YES YES YES GIVE ME MORE ANGSTY HARD ROCK SONGS GIVE THEM TO ME NOW. Also the mini guitar solo at the end? Addicting. PLUS...that Lucy's diamonds lyric...A BEATLES REFERENCE?! +1000000 POINTS HOLY FUCK

KOOL KIDS: 10/10

Personally, I tried to avoid listening to as many concert versions of the song as I could until now because I wanted to go in somewhat blankly and I'm so glad I did because THAT WAS AWESOME I LOVE IT and I think I'm starting to notice a pattern with all the songs I'm rating 10s lmao

IF NOT FOR YOU: 8/10

This is a song that you need to have blasting in your headphones while you gaze longingly out of a car window while it's raining, watching the drops race down the glass and rooting for one in particular, only for them to join together to make one drop in the end and that's the only way I can describe this song. I can see Må performing this live and the entire crowd is just belting out the lyrics right along with them.

READ YOUR DIARY: 10/10

PUNK ANTHEM HELL FUCKING YEAH I'M IN LOVE also another astounding guitar solo? THOMMY YOU ABSOLUTE MAD LAD THE TALENT YOU HOLD IS INDESCRIBABLE. 100% ANOTHER FAVE TRACK. Also, aesthetically speaking, the lyric video is everything I wanna be and more.

MARK CHAPMAN: 10/10

SURPRISE IT'S IN ITALIAN I love this one so much I CAN'TTT it's so good it had me jumping in my mf chair !!!!! And AGAIN WITH THE BOMB ASS GUITAR SOLOS THOMAS RAGGI YOU REALLY POPPED OFF WITH THESE THINGS plus the lyric video is so special to me I know it's just them walking back and forth but it's special how they each have their own runway walk I can't explain it you either get it or you don't

LA FINE: 9.5/10

I've already shared my thoughts about this but it definitely has that Teatro D'Ira Vol. 1 vibe we've all been dearly missing and it's just an incredible sound that will always be iconic

IL DONO DELLA VITA: 9.5/10

If y'all thought LA FINE was reminiscent of TDV1, you're gonna LOVE this one. It sounds so much like it that I can't help but listen to it and be like "That's the Måneskin I know" because it's SO symbolic of their sound. The way I view it is that this song, just based on sound and vibes alone, is LA PAURA DEL BUIO's younger, more emo sibling and no I will not take criticism on that because I know I'm right. Also the lyric video is majestic and I'm right about that too.

MAMMAMIA: 10/10

Again, another one we've all heard and there's no debate it's incredible and I still come back to the MV and lyric video every now and again because they're just as iconic as the song itself.

SUPERMODEL: 8/10

This one has truly divided the fandom lmao but for me personally I like it and it's a song I listen to and then forget about for a bit and then I listen to it again and remember how much I love it. Idc it slaps and it's in my playlist for a reason.

THE LONELIEST: 10/10

Again, no question. The perfect song to cry to while simultaneously screaming the lyrics. The MV is a cinematic masterpiece and the song is so emotionally wracking in the perfect way. Damiano's lyrics are either fun and quirky, super fucking angsty, or poetically deep and meaningful there is no in between.

CONCLUSION: This album is a No-Skips album and probably one of the best albums I've ever heard and I will not be listening to anything else for the next month. Thank you and goodnight.

#maneskin #måneskin #thomas raggi #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio

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lonita · 25 days

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100 Things About Me

A list of 100 things about you.

Could be favourite things, random facts, places visited, hobbies, etc.

Good get-to-know-you.

Shorten the length to make it more workable for other lists or situations.

I am legally blind.

I prefer identify first language over person first, because person first makes it sounds as if I can take my disability off as if it's an attachment.

I don't like abled people telling me how to refer to myself or my disability.

I like to drink room temperature water in the winter.

I have three main hobbies: buying art supplies, organising art supplies, and using art supplies.

I love binge-watching old TV shows as background noise.

I have seen Gary Numan live six times.

I love singing jazz.

Cooking is a monumental bore.

I am childfree by choice.

I have had surgery to render myself incapable of pregnancy.

I have zero regrets about either of the above two things.

The only car I've ever driven was an F2000 racecar.

I've been to the US, England, France, Hungary, Germany, and Cuba.

I don't know how to swim.

The older I get, the more politically and socially angry I get.

I like systems that benefit people collectively.

I cannot abide the smell of mutton cooking.

My favourite colours are warm greens - like grasses, leaves, and olives.

Celebrity culture bores the shit out of me.

I have no real desire to own a home. I'm content ro rent.

I love abstract art.

I am an atheist and antitheist.

I haven't watched a sitcom in so long I don't even remember the last one I watched.

I have five tattoos.

I haven't watched any mainstream Canadian broadcast news since the second week of October 2023.

When I have tea, I only like milk in it.

My favourite songs to listen to loud are Gary Numan's Hope Bleeds version of Are Friends Electric?, Led Zeppelin Nobody's Fault But Mine, Fugazi Waiting Room, and Gang of Four To Hell With Poverty.

My love for loud music has not blunted as I get older.

I didn't know my blood type until about five years ago.

Songs that mention luxury brand names annoy the shit out of me.

Things that other people seem to like which I don't: the movie Titanic, Taylor Swift, wine.

Things that I like which other people seem not to like so much, include: pigeons, spinach, communists. Only the middle one for eating. I don't want to eat communists. Although I've had pigeon once, and it was delicious.

i prefer micro fine black ink pens over any other kind.

My first name apparently roughly translates to "ready for battle". Anyone who knows me is going to find that funny.

Crunchy peanut butter is superior to smooth.

I like collecting postcards.

Some things I like include tea, navel oranges, speculative fiction, loud guitar, corn bread, black pepper, leaf scuffing, ruby grapefruit, exploring abandoned buildings, surprise bags, milk chocolate, puns, warm spring days, a seriously good mindfuck, comfort films, the Oxford comma, constrained writing, ice cream, and costume drama.

My favourite mindfuck film is probably still Altered States.

I'm starting to come around to the term apocalist as opposed to bucket list.

I prefer pre-Moonraker Bond films.

I like to sing, preferably jazz standards or things of that like.

I am grossed out by potato eyes.

I don't like people watching me do housework.

I truly believe that Frampton Comes Alive! does have restorative powers.

I like the sounds of wind in the trees and rain on the streets.

My household theme song is Tim Curry's I Do the Rock.

My favourite Beatles' song is Dig a Pony.

I don't like having my picture taken. No paparazzi!

I believe that you should work to live not live to work.

I believe that if life hands you lemons, you should make pie. Everything is better with pie.

I once cut myself with bubble wrap.

For years I've been keeping a notebook in which I write a list of things to be happy about.

I like attention. I don't like being the centre of attention.

I never learned how to put on any makeup other than lipstick.

I think best days ever include: Gary Day (any day on which I get to see Gary Numan live), New Toothbrush Day / Dentist Cleaned My Teeth Day, New Art Supplies Arrive in the Mail Day, The Day I Learned About Server-Side Includes, and Friday.

I like the sounds of wind in the trees and rain on the streets.

I like when there's enough of something.

For a long time when I was a child I wouldn't walk right up to my bed if the lights were out. I'd get about a foot away then jump onto it. I blame this on the movie Blackbeard's Ghost and that scene where he's looking into the mirror and the ghost appears behind him.

Sometimes I eat oranges because I like the sharp sweet smell more than I'm desirous of actually eating it.

One of my favourite things in the world is the tenor solo in the Ode to Joy, and the way it creeps up on you every time, like how Brain Damage/Eclipse creeps up on you and surprises you every time at the end of Dark Side of the Moon. I never get tired of that.

I like the film Lawrence of Arabia.

I believe in the right to choose.

I like to eat sweet things, but I don't like the smell of it on my hands afterwards.

I once volunteered to participate in a psych study just to get one of the perks of doing the study: copies of MRI scans of your brain.

For years I wouldn't get in an elevator first or get out last, because when I was five I got stuck in an elevator during a hydro company oriented power outage. They decided that a school day's lunch time was the perfect time to do some testing. Boy did they get an earful from a number of people.

I get an enormous charge out of location-spotting the city where I live in films and TV shows.

My hair used to be a lovely golden red when I was young. It got blonder as I got older. That bums me out. I want the red back.

My current favourite vulgarity is halve poes.

I don't enjoy magic shows, sitcoms, Star Wars, or superhero movies.

I prefer 1% milk. Homogenised is too fatty and skim is like water.

I like making lists.

I own a green bass guitar.

I have never chugged maple syrup.

I don't like drinking carbonated drinks on hot days.

I like anise in candy but not with meat.

One time my mother ordered me groceries as a gift, but she accidentally doubled everything so I ended up with 20lbs of potatoes.

I hate wearing pink. I don't own anything pink.

Shrimp are too creepy to eat, as are snails.

I have no interest in jewellery and don't like white diamonds.

The skins that sometimes form on top of hot chocolate drinks are gross.

When I was five I had an imaginary friend named Charlie Brokentoaster.

I rarely drink alone. I come from a long line of alcoholics, so I just didn't want to get into the habit of drinking by myself. I want to enjoy alcohol, so I keep alcohol as a social thing.

I don't mind renting. Owning property doesn't make a person more an adult than one who doesn't. Besides, when something goes wrong, like the fridge dies or they have to replace the entire hot water heater system, I don't have to suddenly wonder where thousands of dollars is going to manifest from.

I just realised I've been playing Candy Crush for over a decade. That's just weird.

I never figured out Double Dutch when I was a kid.

Sometimes I miss ringing telephones.

I bought the kid version of a Waterpik because it was green and came with stickers.

My first Doctor was Jon Pertwee, but my favourite Doctor was Tom Baker.

Places I still want to visit include Uluru, Death Valley, and Kilimanjaro. None of these things is likely to come to pass.

I don't mind long bus rides. Good reading time.

One of my favourite things to binge watch in the middle of the night for comfort, is episodes of Cadfael.

My favourite scents include the sharpness of lemon, orange, and grapefruit rinds, pine, and cooking soup.

Boomer thinkers annoy the shit out of me.

I like found object art and found poetry.

I wish cereal wasn't so carby. Sometimes a body gets a craving.

I can't eat bananas unless they're still a little green, because they're way too sweet when they're all the way yellow.

I still don't understand how I can not touch the lenses of my glasses and they still get marks on them. What the hell's up with that?

My cousins and I used to sneak fresh rhubarb out of their grandfather's garden when we were little.

Racism and bigotry are deal-breakers for me.

#lists #bio #journal

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confessionsofabargainbinaddict · 1 year

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My Favorite Albums of 2022*

*not necessarily from 2022

Over the past 12 months, I've somehow acquired 260 CDs, so instead of doing a standard, "Top of 2022 list," I figured I'd share 10 favorite additions to my ever-growing collection, no matter if they were released in 2022 or not. I'll also do it in alphabetical order by album name for simplicity's sake (and 10 out of 260 is already subjective enough!). Here goes!

Tyler, the Creator - Call Me If You Get Lost

The brilliant wordplay more than warrants Tyler's oozing braggadocio but the fact that, in many cases, that same braggadocio is only thinly veiling deep insecurities elevates this to a truly astonishing level. "Drama, I need you. Can you turn the noise up?" isn't about getting the party hyped, it's about drowning out that critical voice in the back of your head. It's a call for help. It's a masterwork by an MC who's, somewhat surprisingly, coming for a Top 5 spot.

Soul Glo - Diaspora Problems

The CD came with liner notes and lyrics but you basically need a magnifying glass to read them. But you should get one. Because they're worth it. Verbose, brilliant, genre jumping hardcore.

The Beths - Expert in a Dying Field

Do you remember when "Mr. Brightside" came out and it basically was the "end-all, be-all" song about jealousy? "Expert in a Dying Field," is "Mr. Brightside" for breakups. The rest of the album is just icing on the cake. But the icing is also ridiculously good. Like nearly as good as the cake itself.

Origami Angel - Gami Gang

Dumb puns for song titles ("Neutrogina Spektor," "Tom Holland Oates," "Bed, Bath, and Batman Beyond,"), Pokémon, Game Boy, and Taco Bell references, and a smattering of sick riffs, anthemic choruses, and furious tapping. These 20(!!!) songs are more than just an album, they're a goddamn mission statement for a new generation of nerdy emo kids.

The Hotelier - Like No Place Is There

I can imagine Guy and Ian listening to this album and saying, "yeah, this is exactly where we imagined the genre ending up 30 years later." Devastating, cathartic, rough around the edges, but full of melody, and, most importantly, empathy.

Drug Church - Hygiene

Folks keep labeling this "hardcore," but its New Wave and 90's Alt-Rock influences are too abundant to keep it pinned down. Plus, it's catchy as fuck. An excellent 26 minutes that gets better with each listen.

Pusha T - It's Almost Dry

Focus on the latter half of Pusha's statement of purpose: "Cocaine's Dr. Seuss." It's not just that he raps about slinging coke, it's that he loves the words he uses to rap about slinging coke. That joy, that creativity, that fun is abundant on these 12 tracks. Hell, he even gets Jay to join in. (Hot take: Jay's verse on "Neck & Wrist," is better than his verse on "God DID.")

The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour

A stone-cold-classic that I finally picked up on CD. Maybe my favorite from the fab four.

Denzel Curry - Melt My Eyez See Your Future

Stripping away the vocal acrobatics and spectacle that instantly hooked me, Denzel keeps his tone simple and direct and his lyrics powerful and personal, further highlighting his talent and chameleonic abilities.

Kendrick Lamar - Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers

Holding the controversial opinion that DAMN. was a clear step backwards, from the opening moments of "United in Grief," it was clear that K. Dot made a sharp turn back to the complexity and nuance of TPAB and GKMC. It's a deeply uncomfortable listen, giving us an in-depth view of a man struggling to find his true self and how that clashes with who others want (need?) him to be. It's messy and difficult and problematic and exactly the type of album only Kendrick can make.

Other assorted 2022 stuff

Favorite Albums NOT acquired in 2022:

mewithoutYou - Brother, Sister

Polar Bear Club - Clash Battle Guilt Pride

Broadway Calls - Comfort/Distraction

Iron Chic - The Constant Ones

The Beths - Future Me Hates Me

The Wonder Years - The Greatest Generation

Hot Water Music - Light It Up

Teenage Fanclub - Songs From Northern Britain

LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver

Queens of the Stone Age - Villains

Favorite Live Bands seen in 2022

Cursive (Irving Plaza - 1/26)

The Wonder Years (Webster Hall - 3/16)

Motion City Soundtrack (Terminal 5 - 6/19)

Less Than Jake (Saint Vitus - 12/12)

Favorite Movies watched in 2022

Terrifier 2

Nope

Don't Look Up

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

Inside

Favorite TV Shows watched in 2022

Severance

Joe Pera Talks With You

The White Lotus

Abbot Elementary

The Rehearsal

Favorite Books read in 2022:

They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib

Sellout by Dan Ozzi

The Power Broker by Robert Caro

Favorite Podcasts listened to in 2022:

Love and Radio

The Secrets Hotline

Detoxicity

Will Be Wild

The Trojan Horse Affair

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vivid4am · 3 years

Text

Life Goes On (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky meets his neighbor who keeps playing the same song on repeat.

Takes place before TFATWS

Warnings: Cursing, suicidal ideation(?), hella Beatles references

A/N: This is my first fanfic in like a long time, so sorry if my writing skills are a little week.

Whoever Bucky’s neighbor was, he loathed them.

Life really hasn’t been kind to him lately. After being under control by HYDRA for so many years, breaking out and finding his best friend only to be turned into dust and coming back five years later with his then best friend abandoning him to go back in time to be with the love of his life. Yeah, not a good hand was dealt to him.

The only good thing was being pardoned by the United States government and not being sent to jail for the rest of his goddamn miserable life.

So here he was, sitting on his living room floor, staring at his T.V. and listening to that godforsaken song his neighbor was playing on repeat.

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Life goes on, bra

La-la, how the life goes on

It was taunting almost. After all the shit Bucky’s went through, he wished his life didn’t go on. Wished he could be like Steve, go back in time and find someone who he could live the rest of his life with. Wished that the United States government did lock him up. Wished that they executed him.

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Life goes on, bra

La-la, how the life goes on

Maybe he can complain to Dr. Raynor about this tomorrow. Tell her that the song almost makes him feel murderous again. Maybe she’ll report him and they will finally lock him up. It’s what he deserves anyway, after all the heinous crimes he’s committed. Bucky laid his head back against the wall and sighed. He then stopped and listened.

Solace and silence. The song was finally over. A smile stretched across Bucky’s unshaven face and he choked out a laugh. It didn’t last long though.

That stupid bass line along with that stupid piano started to fill his ears again.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky said to himself. He knocked on the wall, trying to grab his neighbor’s attention to stop playing that stupid fucking song.

The song suddenly stopped and a voice came through the wall.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you weren’t a Beatles fan.” The voice said.

Bucky didn’t give himself time to think, he just spoke. “I have no fucking clue who they are.” He replied.

Bucky didn’t get a response. Silence filled his Brooklyn apartment. Then came a knock on his door. Bucky scrunched his face up. Who the hell would come visit him at this time at night? Mr. Nakajima? He pulled the blankets off his legs and stood up, his dog tags hanging off his neck. He peeked through the peephole and saw a girl standing in the hall with a white t-shirt, Cookie Monster pajama pants and her arms crossed over her chest. He sighed and opened the door.

“Can I-”

“How do you not know who the fucking Beatles are?”

“Excuse me?” Well, maybe it’s because I’m a hundred and some year old man and have never been aware of my surroundings in the 60s before.

“The Beatles! Y’know, John, Paul, George, and Ringo? Abbey Road? Hey Jude? Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club? Here Comes The Sun? The fucking Beatles?”

Bucky was shocked to be frank. Why was this girl screaming at him about The Beatles? He knew he should’ve listened to what Steve put down in that journal, dammit.

All he could do was shake his head. “Sorry, no.”

“What were you, born yesterday?” The attitude on this girl was thick. She intimidated him almost, staring into his stone cold blue eyes.

“No.” Yes.

“Don’t tell me you listen to that shitty Soundcloud rapper bullshit either.” The girl mumbled, pushing her way into Bucky’s apartment. Buck couldn’t help but panic. What if she saw his arm? What would he say to her? Then again, he didn’t really owe her any answers, she was the one who just waltzed into his apartment.

Luckily Bucky had a grey sweatshirt laying on his kitchen counter. He pulled it over his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The girl stopped in front of his living room. “Nice pad you got here.” She said, admiring his single cushioned arm chair, TV stand and makeshift floor bed.

“Uh- new furniture coming in, my old stuff fell apart.” He lied, looking down feeling almost embarrassed. “Eh, it’s okay. You’re better than the last tenets that were here.” She said, searching around his apartment.

“I’m sorry, but- what are you looking for? Matter of fact, why are you in here?” He asked, following her around. Hopefully she didn’t find his knife stash. He wasn’t supposed to have any weapons, but he needed something in case someone tried to break in. He still gets paranoid sometimes.

“Looking for the source in your shitty taste in music.” The girl deadpanned.

“I-uh, I don’t listen to music.”

The girl skidded to a halt. She turned around, shock riddled on her face. “Really? I mean, with that haircut and dog tags, you strike me as a guy who listens to Led Zeppelin religiously.” She then put her hand up. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who Led Zeppelin are either.”

Bucky grimaced at the girl and she sighed.

“Tomorrow,” She started, “meet me next door at 8, I get off work at 7:30.” She said before walking towards the door. Bucky gave her a confused look. “For what?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The girl gave him a cheeky smile. “So I can show you music.” She replied, opening the door.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She said before she shut the door.

“Bucky.” He whispered, but she was already gone.

| Next Part

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swimmingleo · 3 years

Text

HSLOT boots and psychedelic fashion conspiracy

Are we ready to read too much into things once again but classic rock style ? Hell yeah, here we go.

DISCLAIMER I don't really believe in what I'm writing here, but I think it's fun and I like to entertain the thought of Harry going full nerd style to put up his lil uniform (I mean, he better has thought it through).

There is one thing that caught my attention about Harry's stage uniform and it's the consistency of his boots. Agreed, they're pretty, look comfortable and practical while serving the psychedelic 60's vibe he's going for (we'll come back to that), but they're custom made and I like to make a big deal out of thin air, so.

da boots~

Let me introduce you to the niche world of Gohil's Shoes

Gohil's is a small independant shop located in Camden created by Velji Gohil in 1966. Back in the 60's, the shoemaker was notoriously known for his colorful, bold and unique handmade leather boots. Gohil supplied the iconic psychedelic boutique Granny Takes a Trip, which played a big part in the underground scene and where lots of rockstars would buy their outfits (Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Marc Bolan, yeah all of em).

Rockstars such as Joe Cocker, Eric Clapton, Elton John or David Bowie popularized Gohil's boots designs or even directly commissioned him.

But where it gets interesting is when Pink Floyd gets involved oF COURSE OMG LEO SHUT UUUUP.

No way to tell 100% but I'm pretty confident they're all rocking their lil Gohil's leather goods here, in all kind of colors like a proper uniform.

Syd Barrett the man himself got his own custom-made Gohil's boots: short ankle and elastic gussets (precisely. It will make sense later).

cmon i like making parallels it's fun

More of Syd's boots:

Pink Floyd plays a massive role in the Gohil's lore because they gave the shoemaker proper credit and immortalized his work in classic rock culture by namedropping the shop in The Wall.

I got elastic bands keepin' my shoes on

[...]

I've got a pair of Gohills boots

But I got fading roots, Nobody Home

Please, I don't know why they purposely spelled it wrong, it's killing me.

The unmistakable reference to Syd's boots evokes his melancholy surrounding fame and how out of place he felt in the public eye. The elastic bands were allegedly part of his boots' design because he wouldn't lace his shoes anymore: in the end, no matter how custom made the shoes were, they didn't feel part of him because they were tied to his new life as a rockstar.

It doesn't stop here with Syd and shoes discomfort, here we go.

In 1967, Syd writes Jugband Blues (tw flashing lights i think?). He's on his way out from the band, not able to keep up with the work rate and the record's company demands. The song is a criticism of the music industry: from the ironic marks of respect (which remind me of how Harry thanks Rob Stringer lol) to the shallow psychedelic visuals and unsettling vibes of the music video.

The camera films quick glimpses of the set they're on: the machinery, the staff... even a suit who's just standing there watching. Like in TPWK.

AAAANYWAY THE SHOES.

And I'm grateful that you threw away my old shoes

And brought me here instead dressed in red, Jugband Blues

In Jugband Blues, in Nobody Home or even Vegetable Man (In yellow shoes I get the blues), the shoes are a prison Syd wants to escape from, an emphasis on the fact that he doesn't feel good in his skin and barely feels like himself at all. He doesn't belong even in his own clothes and misses the familiarity of his old shoes: a reminder of a place and time where he felt safe and not... Perceived.

All in all, the shoes are a big "DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE". When the lights are up, with all eyes on you and you got those brand new Gohil's boots on, do you know who you are ? Do the shoes make the Man ? Or just the performer ?

For Another Man, a milestone in Harry's solo career and a big ass tribute to classic rock fashion, Harry wore his lil rockstar outfit while keeping on his old worn out Converse.

He's determined to pursue his career while staying true to his roots. He's not losing himself to his stage persona.

On the right Keith Richards, wearing snakeskin Gohil's boots from Granny Takes a Trip.

Now what about Harry making a point of wearing consistently the same boots' design on tour ?

I won't pretend like Love On Tour psychedelic visuals didn't remind me of Pink Floyd at first. WHICH IS FAIR, cuz after all Pink Floyd were the first to actually do a regular light show on their live performances. They would project liquid light effects, crazy colours, and play with the patterns and textures of their Granny Takes a Trip outfits...

... Basically, the performers and lights blend together. The obvious risk is for the performer to be literally eclipsed by the lights, which was Pink Floyd's intent (idk they were shy or smth).

For Love On Tour, Harry is going all in with the psychedelic tribute, boots included. Except he's not letting the lights or the clothes wear him. By wearing the same design again and again, he's appropriating them the same way he would wear his crusty sneakers to death <3

I got inspired to write that post with what @laurelier and @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk wrote about Harry and the comfort he could find in clothes, a steady aesthetic and the frequency he wears specific garments, something he seems to have found with Fine Line. While Live On Tour's suits were more diversed and impressive, he implied how uncomfortable he felt performing in them. It also read as part of the rockstar image push during the HS1 era where articles would often compare him to Mick Jagger, Bowie or Prince.

Since then, with Fine Line, Harry knows who he is, became a trendsetter, an icon on his own and made a point to sing about how good in his skin he feels. He loves the boots and they feel like home

...

all of this for some boots yo

#like i said a reach #but i like fashion i like classic rock i like harreehh #have those useless sprinkles of classic rock funfacts ig #its useless i cant like flex about it during family reunions or dates but maybe others can make smth out of it #terrapin #my analysis

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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oasis-for3v3r · 3 years

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Runaway Baby <3

Pairing- Paul x Assistant!Reader.

Request- maybeeee a Paul x reader where the readers super shy ? And she works as an assistant in the studio but in the next room to their studio? Super fluffy 🥺? And maybe the reader runs away from his romantic advances and Paul accepts the challenge 🤣?

A/N-Please accept this as my “i’ve got my mojo back “ fic. Man transitioning to college is hard. Also, this request reminded me of the song Runaway Baby by Bruno Mars- so essentially this is a song fic. And it will appear latter in the chapter.

Warnings- one suggestive commet but thats it.

You dreaded going to work.

It’s not that you hated it, quite the opposite actually. It had a nice location, not too far from home so your feet wouldn’t hurt from the walk. The pay was nice, considering that you worked for the Beatles as their assistant. You even had your own studio! All together these perks were amazing, but it wasn’t the reason why you dreaded going to work.

It was the people..

Ringo, John and George were considered like your brothers, always teasing you but caring and protecting you none the less. It was so fun to help them and hear the first tastes of the new songs they were writing.

Paul though.... was a different breed.

He was always... flirting with you. It didn’t make you uncomfortable. Its just the things he’d say made you blush and your ears get hot. It was humiliating and you try to have a normal conversation but you couldn’t get through one without getting flustered and tripping over your words. And it was more humiliating to admit that you liked it a bit.

A bit.

So when you finally got out of the house and onto the street that lead to the studio you practice what would happen.

He calls you bunny? Say “Hey fox”.

No thats way too much

Say “Paul, please we are at work”

No then he would flirt with you outside of work.

What about ‘” I cant be a bunny I don’t have a carrot to chew on”

Oh hell-

Just as you were making yourself red, you bumped your head straight into the door. You were thankful only the receptionist were there otherwise you would have a nosebleed from humiliation.

When you entered the room John and Paul we’re huddled together and mumbling about something, most likely a song. And Rings and Georgie were playing cards.

“Y/N!” Paul said excitedly.

Oh shit

“Hi” you said trying to make your voice deep, but made it higher.

“Before you get all blushy and cute on us, we want to show you something, bunny” Paul said with a wink. Which made your stomach do flip flops.

You sat down, smoothing out your skirt, while George, Ringo John and Paul took their places with their instruments.

“so Paul came up with the bright idea that he should write a song about you and his relationship” John said he seemed to feel a mix between unamused and excited.

“Relationship?!”you piped up your nose turning a deep red color.

“ Calm down Cutie, its not like that” Paul said calmly, “ it just describes how we are” "Now if there are any more interruptions, i would like to play?”

The bass line started and he began to sing:

Well, looky here, looky here, ah, what do we have? Another pretty thing ready for me to grab But little does she know that I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing 'Cause at the end of the night, it is her I'll be holding

With the song he started to look at t you. And the lyrics made sense. But he was cocky...too cocky.

Run, run, run away, run away, baby Before I put my spell on you You better get, get, get away, get away, darling 'Cause everything you heard is true

The tabloids although fabricated, had some truth to them. And although taboo you did wonder how he would treat you on a date.

So many eager young bunnies that I'd like to pursue Now even though they're eating out the palm of my hand There's only one carrot and they all gotta share it

You understood that reference, and for once you didn’t blush, you grew a smirk on your face , if he wanted to play this game then fine.

You would just. have to play harder.

Uh, check it out See, I ain't tryna hurt you, baby No, no, no, I just want to work you baby See, I ain't tryna hurt you baby No, no, no, I just want to work you babyIf you're scared, you better run (you better run) You better run (you better run) You better run (you better run) You better, you better, you betterRun, run, run away, run away, baby Before I put my spell on you You better get, get, get away, get away, darling 'Cause everything you heard is true Your poor little heart will end up alone 'Cause Lord knows I'm a rolling stone So you better run, run, run away, run away, baby

When they finish the song, Paul felt victorious. That didn’t last long.

“Well Paulie, if you’re gonna chase me you are gonna have to work faster than that fox.” you said and turned on your heel and left.

Ringo cheered

George joined him and clapped.

John nodded in approval and chuckled.

Paul was cherry red.

#beatles #paul mcartney x reader #flirting #writing #cute #fluff #60s #crush #shy reader #sly fox #dumb bunny #my writing #new fic

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templeoftheslavegarden · 3 years

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Thank you @daveighmustaine for the tag.

Who was your first favourite artist? My very first favourite artist undoubtedly had to be The Beatles. I mean for most of us I guess The Beatles are our first artist/band/music we hear as children. I remember being like 4 years old and just shouting “we all live in a yellow submarine” at the top of my little lungs around the house.

Who are your current favourite artist(s)? I may have a slight obsession with Soundgarden and maybe a little Type O Negative thrown in there, but you would have to tell me lol. I also absolutely love Pantera, Black Sabbath, Behemoth, Mother Love Bone, Alice In Chains, Aerosmith, Immortal… the list could go on and on lol but you get the idea

Are you into musicals? Hell Yes! Across The Universe is my favourite of all time. I also love Sweeny Todd, Mama Mia, Rent, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride… there’s way too many to name them all.

Are there any songs you consider so special you only listen to them very rarely? No, not at all. The more special it is the more I listen to it, the more I listen to it, the more it becomes apart of me and that is an amazing feeling. Songs that particularly do that to me are:

Everything Dies by Type O Negative - the line “Now I hate myself, wish I’d die” just hits me every time no matter how many times I’ve heard it.

Like Suicide by Soundgarden - I don’t know what it is about Chris writing about a bird flying into a window and dying and him making it so emotional and beautiful at the same time but, damn… that song is incredible (especially the acoustic version)

What's your preferred way of listening to music? Records (vinyl) of course. Been collecting them since I was 14. If I’m out walking it’s Spotify on my headphones but at home it’s records all the way.

What would you say is the most niche music you listen to? I honestly have no idea. If you are referring to niche as in genre or sub genre then it would be Metal. I have so many different tastes in music that I don’t particularly listen to one genre all the time. For the most part it’s Metal though - Classic, Black, Goth, Doom, Stoner, Thrash, Grunge (I consider Grunge apart of the metal genre though some metal elitists would disagree lol)

What's your favourite music-related movie/ tv show that's not a musical? That would have to be Almost Famous. I love everything about that movie - and of course Jason Lee - damn, he’s so fine as Jeff Bebe lol. Singles too - and you know the scenes that I’m talkin’ about lmao! I also love Rock Star with Mark Walburg (and did you know Myles Kennedy is in a scene at the very end when Mark’s character hands the microphone to a fan? Yea, Myles… who knew lol)

Albums or playlists? Albums of course

Favourite albums? Soundgarden’s Badmotorfinger, Type O Negative’s World Coming Down, Pantera’s Vulgar Display Of Power, Guns N Roses both Use Your Illusions (I can’t decide lol) Ozzy Osbourne’s Ozzmossis, Black Sabbath’s Master Of Reality, The Ramones Road To Ruin… should I go on? LOL

Is there an artist you're trying to get into? Not… really, like… I usually don’t have to try to get into an artist, I either love their stuff or I don’t. If I don’t then I just don’t listen lol, If I do then, well I’m diving head first into them and not coming up until I know their entire catalogue back to front LOL

Whose music do you find overhyped? I don’t know. I feel kinda old in saying that I really only listen to old shit but it’s true. I haven’t really delved too far into listening to newer stuff but if you’re saying overhyped in general… maybe Slayer… (I think Sepultura does it waaaayyy better) lol

What's an underrated song? Three Days by Jane’s Addiction. I feel like everyone always just knows them for Been Caught Stealing or Just Because. but damn Three Days is ah- ma- zing! One of my favourite tracks of Ritual De Lo Habitual

What song is better acoustic? Like Suicide by Soundgarden- man Chris’s voice on that acoustic version is so so deep, giving it such a different feel. Sometimes I wish it was originally done that way lol

What's the worst song of all time? Now I know this is a matter of opinion but to me it’s definitely Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus. I fuckin’ hate that song lol

Do you make your own playlists? Yes

Headphones or Earbuds? both, depends on which is easier to grab lol

Do you always sing the lead vocal or do youharmonize sometimes? Hahaha me sing? Do you want to hear a cat sounding like it’s dying? LOL

A musical confession: I learned to play piano when I was 3 and guitar when I was 7. I played the flute all through highschool ( I wanted to play the saxophone but I had braces at the time and couldn’t play it right) I don’t really play anymore though, but maybe I’ll pick it up again.

Now this was a long one but it was really fun. I tag @oh-hi-bucky @six-shot-heart-attack @missladyfinger @pearljellly @soundgarden-forever @soundgrrrden and really anyone and everyone who wants to play, you all know who you are

#ask temple #soundgarden #chris cornell #temple of the dog #type o negative #grunge #metal #tags play

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tyrantisterror · 3 years

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I did a four part series of trivia posts when ATOM Volume 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us! came out, and that was pretty fun! You can see that set of trivia posts here if you’d like. I thought it’d be fun to do another now that ATOM Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! is out - just one this time, because a lot of the trivia I talked about with Volume 1 still applies.

I’m gonna divide this into two sections: non-spoiler trivia, for things that really don’t give a lot of plot points away, and spoiler trivia, for things that DO give away major plot points. I recommend not reading the spoiler trivia until after you’ve read Tyrantis Roams the Earth!, for obvious reasons, and will put the spoiler trivia under a cut.

Ok, let’s go!

- So if you read ATOM Volume 1, you probably noticed that the book is split not only into chapters, but “episodes,” which consist of four chapters a piece. It’s kind of a nod to how the series owes a great deal of its DNA to various monster of the week shows, with Godzilla: the Series and The Godzilla Power Hour being obvious influences. It also allowed me to pepper in some illustrations and cheesy b-movie style titles into each volume.

- The first “episode” of Volume 2, Tyrantis in Tokyo, pays explicit homage to the giant monster movies of Japan, perhaps even moreso than the chapters that came before it. Given how much Japanese media influenced ATOM - from tokusatsu like the Godzilla, Gamera, and Ultraman franchises to anime like Digimon and Evangelion (hell, the title of this episode itself is a tip of the hat to Tenchi Muyo by way of one of its spinoffs) - it kind of felt obligatory that Tyrantis visit Japan and pay his respects.

- Tyrantis in Tokyo also fits in a tribute to another staple of Atomic Age pop culture: Rock and Roll.

- Kutulusca, the giant cephalopod that appears in Tyrantis in Tokyo, is one of the oldest kaiju in this series, dating back to the first iteration of Tyrantis’s story that I put to paper back in 2001 or so. It’s changed a lot since then, but its fight with Tyrantis goes more or less the way it originally did.

- Old Meg, the giant placoderm/shark, and Nastadyne, the bipedal beetle, both owe their existence directly to Deviantart’s Godzilla fandom. Old Meg originated as a dunkleosteus monster I submitted to a “create a Godzilla kaiju” contest held by Matt Frank, while Nastadyne is based on a Megalon redesign I made during the “redesign all the Godzilla kaiju” phase of DA’s kaiju fandom.

- The second episode, Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace, gets dark as we visit the USSR, which had enough REAL horror with atomic power in its history to make creature features seem a bit defanged by comparison. It’s probably the episode with the strongest horror elements - ATOM’s always been influenced by Resident Evil, and this is probably where that influence shows the most strongly.

- It also features the first fully robotic mecha in the series, the mighty Herakoschei! Its name is a combination of “Heracles” and “Koschei the Deathless,” with the former part being added by its Russian creators to make it seem a bit more international as they offer it to the U.N. in hopes of gaining aid for a very extreme kaiju problem they’ve developed.

- Most of Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace takes place in the Siberian Monster Zone. Its name is a reference to the Lawless Monster Zone in Ultraman, which is such a cool fucking name I wish that I wish I could go back in time and steal it.

- The next episode, Tyrantis’s Revenge, is... full of spoilers, so we’ll move on for now.

- The penultimate episode, Tyrantis vs. the Martian Monsters, is a love letter to MANY different sci-fi stories that involve life on Mars, though the most prominent of them is of course The War of The Worlds (one of my top 3 favorite books) and its various adaptations. From its tentacles sapient martians, the tripodal leader of the titular monsters whose name includes the word “ulla” which is uttered by said sapient martians, the plant monster made of red vines, the cylinder-shaped spacecraft the Martian monsters are sent to earth on, the copper-skinned stingray-esque flying martian who shoots lasers from its tail, and the fact that every chapter title in this episode is a quote from the book, the H.G. Wells influence is STRONG.

- The final episode, Invasion from Beyond!, is shamelessly inspired by Destroy All Monsters, although there’s a dash of “To Serve Men,” Godzilla vs. Monster Zero, and The Day the Earth Stood Still mixed in as well. It’s also sort of a tribute to my first “published” bit of a kaiju fiction - a rewrite of Destroy All Monsters that included EVERY Godzilla monster that had appeared at the time, which my middle school self wrote back in 2002 or so for Kaiju Headquarters, a kaiju fansite I’m not sure exists anymore. Invasion from Beyond! is just as ambitious (but hopefully better executed) as my DAM Remake, with dozens upon dozens of different kaiju duking it out, earthlings vs. aliens.

- There were three different documents I made to outline the final battle of Invasion from Beyond! It’s the largest episode of the series so far and more than half of it is that fucking fight. My inner child is pleased, though, so hopefully you will be too.

Ok, that’s all I can share without spoilers. READER BEWARE WHAT FOLLOWS BELOW THE CUT!

JUST MAKING SURE you know that SPOILERS will follow from here on out. Read at your own peril! YOU WERE WARNED!

(I’m gonna start with lighter ones just in case you scrolled too far and want to turn back)

- There’s a number of explicit Spielberg homages in ATOM Volume 2, from a “we need a bigger boat” joke during a chase with a giant shark to the fact that Invasion from Beyond! opens with a group of people flying to an island of monsters to review whether or not it should get more funding.

- When Tyrantis appears in the first chapter, I snuck in modified lyrics of The Godzilla Power Hour’s theme song. “Up from the depths”... “several stories high”... “breathing fire”... “its head in the sky”... Tyrantis! Tyrantis! Tyrantis!

- The two rock bands in Tyrantis in Tokyo have real life inspirations ala Gwen Valentine, albeit a bit more muddled than hers. The Cashews are inspired by The Peanuts (see what I did there), while The Thunder Lizards are a mix of The Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Buddy Holly, and the Big Bopper. I wanted The Thunder Lizards to be more akin to the myth of a famous rock and roll band than the reality - less the real Beatles and more the Yellow Submarine cartoon version of them.

- The song The Thunder Lizards write for Tyrantis was written to fit the tune of “The Godzilla March” from Godzilla vs. Gigan, though ideally if someone made an actual song of it it would be its own song. I got the idea from Over the Garden Wall, which used the Christmas song “O Holy Night” as a a starting point for “Come Wayward Souls.”

- Perry Martin, UNNO reporter and peer of Henry Robertson, is a nod to Raymond Burr, with his name being a combination of two of Burr’s most famous roles: Perry Mason, and Steve Martin from Godzilla King of the Monsters (1956).

- Dr. Rinko Tsuburaya is a few homages in one. Her name comes from Rinko Kikuchi (who played Mako Mori in Pacific Rim), while her last name is obviously in homage of Eiji Tsuburaya. Her being the daughter of an esteemed scientist is inspired by Emiko Yamane from the original Gojira.

- Nastadyne’s Burning Justice mode is named after a similar super mode from various Transformers cartoons, though it’s more directly inspired by the Shining/Burning Finger super move from G Gundam.

- Martians sending kaiju to different planets via shooting them out of cannons (with or without cylinder spaceships around them) is another War of the Worlds shoutout. So is martians living on Venus after their homeworld was made uninhabitable, actually.

- Kurokame’s vocalizations are described as wails in explicit homage to Gamera. His name can be translated as either “black tortoise” (a reference to the mythical guardian beast Genbu, which can also be construed as a Gamera reference thanks to Gamera: Advent of Irys implying Gamera and Genbu are one and the same) or a portmanteau of the Japanese words for crocodile and turtle - “crocturtle.”

- Burodon’s name is just a mangling of “burrow down.” It also sounds vaguely like Baragon, who Burodon is loosely inspired by. AND, since Burodon is sort of a knockoff/modified Baragon, that kinda makes him a reference to various monsters in Ultraman!

- The final battle of Tyrantis in Tokyo is sort of a hybrid of the finales of Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster and Destroy All Monsters.

- The Japanese kaiju teaching Tyrantis the art of throwing rocks at your enemies is both a joke on the prominence of rock throwing in Japanese kaiju fights AND the tired trope of an American hero learning secret martial arts from a Japanese mentor ala Batman, Iron Fist, etc. In this case, the secret martial art is throwing rocks at people.

- When introduced to Herakoschei and its pilot, we are told that the strain of piloting this early mecha is so intense that many pilots have died in the process, with the current one passing out on more than few occasions. This is of course a Pacific Rim homage - sadly, no one invents drifting.

- Herakoschei’s design is a loose homage to Robby the Robot and Cherno Alpha, because big boxy robots are cool.

- The Writhing Flesh and ESPECIALLY Pathogen are both hugely influenced by Resident Evil and The Thing. Giant body horror piles of raw flesh, tendrils, mismatched mouths and limbs may be a bit outside the main era of monster design ATOM homages, but they fit the themes and bring a nice contrast.

- I came up with Pathogen long before Corona but MAN it definitely feels different in 2021 to have a giant monster whose name is a synonym for disease driving other creatures crazy in a quarantine zone than it did when I plotted out the story in 2016.

- The chapter title “Hello, Old Foes” is a riff on “Goodbye, Old Friend”

- Minerva, the kaiju-fied clone of Dr. Lerna, is meant to be an homage to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, which is a genuinely good giant monster flick. I am sure many of you will also believe I included her because I’m a pervert whose into tall women, but you’d be wrong! I included the seven foot tall Russian mecha pilot Ludmilla Portnova because I’m a pervert whose into tall women. Minerva’s inclusion was just coincidental, I swear!

- Since Promythigor is a play on the archetypal ape kaiju to contrast Tyrantis as a play on the archetypal fire-breathing reptile kaiju, their fight has a lot of nods to King Kong movies. Promythigor attempts the famous jaw-snap maneuver of Kong (with less success), J.C. Clark paraphrases the “brute force vs. a thinking animal” line from the King Kong vs. Godzilla American cut, and Tyrantis slides down a mountain to knock Promythigor off his feet in a reversal of Kong doing the same in King Kong vs. Godzilla.

- Tyrantis sliding down a mountain on his tail doubles as a Godzilla vs. Megalon homage.

- Though Promythigor is the archetypal Ape and Tyrantis the archetypal Fire-Breathing Reptile, I think it’s fun to note that in some ways, Promythigor is the Godzilla equivalent in their matchup, and Tyrantis the Kong. Promythigor has a slight size advantage, was scarred by humans performing unethical weapons technology, and is associated with violent explosions. Tyrantis is a good-at-heart prehistoric beast who humanized in part by his unlikely friendship with a human woman.

- Of course, in the context of the famous quote from the American cut of King Kong vs. Godzilla, they remain in their archetypal lanes. Promythigor is the more intelligent of the two (though not necessarily wiser), and Tyrantis is in many ways a brute reptile. Their battle is a rebuttal of sorts to the assertion that Kong is the “better” animal because he is closer to human. Promythigor’s near human creativity and emotions don’t make him the kinder/more benevolent monster, but instead fuel a very self-centered and destructive attitude that makes him the far more dangerous threat. On the other hand, Tyrantis, who is less intelligent, limited in communication with others by his reptilian mindset and instincts, and simple in his thoughts and desires, is nonetheless a sweet creature that is easily dealt with when others consider his animal needs and mindset. There’s a quote from Hellboy I love that probably sums up all of my writing thus far: “To be other than human does not mean the same as being less,” and that’s what the matchup between these two in particular tries to illustrate: the “less” human Tyrantis is nonetheless more benign than the “more” human Promythigor.

- Kraydi the psychic lizard began life as a soft sculpture I made of the Canyon Krayt Dragon from The Wildlife of Star Wars. The sculpture didn’t look much like the illustration, but I liked how it came out, and so I made it an original monster named Kraydi (see what I did there). Figuring out an explanation for that name in ATOM’s world was possibly the most difficult kaiju naming task in the series, but it worked out in the end.

- Kraydi and Promythigor having psychic powers is a result of my time on Godzilla fan forums in my middle school years. Most of the forums had OC kaiju battle tournaments, and SO many of those kaiju had a wide array of beam weapons and psychic powers just to win the tournaments by beam-spamming and mind controlling their foes into oblivion. There’s a special kind of rage you get when your original creation is beaten by “Fire Godzilla” because he has a genius level intellect and the power of unstoppable telekinesis. Kraydi began as (and still is I suppose) my attempt to do a psychic kaiju well, while Promythigor’s villainy being tied to psychic powers being forced on him is sort of my passive aggressive commentary on people foisting powers on a monster without any real thematic reason for them.

- Henry Robertson and Dr. Praetorius chewing out the laziness of people giving kaiju completely unaltered names of mythic beasts will probably be seen as a jab at the Monsterverse and/or the numerous writers in the kaiju OC scene who do the same, but it’s ACTUALLY a jab at my past self, who had DOZENS of kaiju whose names were just Greek mythological figures verbatim. There are dozens of kaiju named Hydra, Scylla, Charybdis, Chimera, etc., past me, try to make the names stand out! Oh wait you did. I mean, don’t pat yourself on the back too much, you still went with “Mothmanud” as a canon name and never came up with something better, but, like, good on ya for trying I guess.

- Dr. Praetorius takes his name from the evil mad scientis in Bride of Frankenstein, who basically has all the wicked traits that Universal’s Frankenstein downplayed in their take on Dr. Frankenstein. Ironically, ATOM’s Dr. Praetorius is a bit less evil than his fellow mad scientists in ATOM. I really like how his character turned out, he surprised me.

- Isaac Rossum, the pilot of the USA mecha Atomoton, is named for Isaac Aasimov, whose robot stories are to robot fiction what Lord of the Rings is to high fantasy. His last name is a reference to Rossum’s Universal Robots, which is where the word “robot” came from.

- The unfortunate pilots of MechaTyrantis in ATOM Volumes 1 and 2 are all nods to Jurassic Park. John Ludlow = John Hammond and Peter Ludlow, Ian Grant = Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant, Dennis Dodgson = Dennis Nedry and Lewis Dodgson.

- A good way to pitch Invasion from Beyond! would be “what if the staff and monsters were able to fight back when the Kilaaks tried to take over Monsterland?”

- Ok, here’s a fun joke that no one will get but me because it requires a very specific chain of logic based on some obscure and loosely connected nerd bullshit. There’s a rocker in ATOM’s universe named Sebastian Haff, right? One of his songs, “Darling Let’s Shimmy,” is referenced right before a mothmanud larva emerges from the ground in both ATOM Vol. 1 and 2. Ok, so, in the Bubba Hotep, an aging Elvis impersonator named Sebastian Haff claims he is actually the real Elvis Presley, having changed places with the real Sebastian Haff as a sort of Prince and the Pauper deal that went wrong. Got that? Ok, so, in UFO folklore, a common joke is the theory that Elvis didn’t die, but was rather abducted by aliens (or he actually WAS an alien the whole time - the whole “Elvis didn’t die, he just went home” joke in Men in Black is a good example of this). Ok? Ok. So, in ATOM’s universe, we can surmise that their equivalent of Elvis, whose name is Sebastian Haff, WAS abducted by aliens, and that his song “Darling Let’s Shimmy” is subconsciously influenced by his repressed memories from his time aboard the Beyonder spaceships, which is why it accidentally awoke a Mothmanud larva in Volume 1. There’s a lot of bullshit jokes I put into ATOM, but this is perhaps the bullshittiest of them all.

- One of the most common bits of feedback on ATOM Volume 1 I got was “I kept waiting for something to eat Brick Rockwell, he’s such an asshole.” And I had to smile and go, “Oh, yeah, guess he never got his, huh?” the whole time without letting on that he was going to die here all along!

- Dr. Lerna and Brick Rockwell’s nature as foils to each other is probably most apparent in Invasion from Beyond!, where both are given fairly similar situations - a nonhuman approaches them with a solution to a global crisis - and react to it very differently. I worry that some people may think they both made the same choice and got different results, and that that’s hypocrisy on my part, but I hope I wrote it so you can see how their choices and situations actually differ in key ways, and why their decisions, while similar on the surface, are ultimately very different, and thus result in almost opposite outcomes.

- So, when I planned out this book in 2016, I swear I didn’t know about the Orca from 2019′s Godzilla King of the Monsters. Having the plot hang around Dr. Lerna deciding whether or not to use a sonic device to rouse all the kaiju to save the earth was not INTENDED to be a Monsterverse reference - it came about from me looking at Pathfinder’s take on kaiju, who are all explicitly influenceable by music, and thinking, “Oh, wow, music and songs DO have a major connection with kaiju in a lot of media, I should do something with that.” Whem KOTM came out a few days after Volume 1 came out I realized I was kinda fucked here, because the comparison was definitely going to be made, but I’d also set this all up already and you can’t just change suddenly to avoid looking like a copy cat and make a good story, so... I dunno, I leaned into it a bit, but it is what it is.

- While most people will probably think they’re a reference to the Reptoids of UFO folklore, the Reptodites are more inspired by the Dinosapien of speculative evolution fame and, even morso, by the Reptites from Chrono Trigger. Me wanting to avoid the “lizard people control the government” conspiracy theory trope is one of the main reasons why Reptodites have this non-interference clause with humanity.

- Lieutenant Gray is a bunch of different humanoid aliens rolled into one - a little Hopskinville goblin, a little classic gray, a little this one weird alien with five-fingered zygodactyl hands, etc.

- There’s some Beyonder Mecha in this volume that are basically kaiju-fied versions of the Flatwoods Monster. The species that built them ALSO engineered the Mothmanuds, because connecting Mothman and the Flatwoods Monster is fun!

- Pleprah is, obviously, a one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater.

- Tyrantis’s brush with death, in addition to being so very anime, was inspired by my dad outlining how mythic heroes often have to travel to the underworld/land of the dead before they can finish their journey. It’s one of the plot points that I’ve had planned for this series since middle school.

- I’m sure some will view it as hackneyed and corny, but as a person who’s battled with depression for decades, having Tyrantis’s choice to live be the big heroic turn of the finale was very important to me. Tyrantis incorporates elements of a lot of imaginary friends I made as a kid, and in many ways he’s kind of the face of my more positive side in my head. He’s been telling me to choose to live for a while, and while maybe to an outsider it may seem hackneyed, it’s just... very Tyrantis. He chooses life and kindness in the face of pain and struggle. That’s Tyrantis.

- Tyrantis’s powered up form is called “Hyper Mode,” which is another Gundam reference. Originally it was a lot gaudier and involved him turning gold like a fuckin’ Super Saiyan. I opted for something a little more toned down here.

- Also, speaking of KOTM references, I decided to make Hyper Mode Tyrantis’s final duel with Pathogen be a sort of foil to Burning Godzilla’s final bout with Ghidorah in KOTM. Instead of ravaging the city, Hyper Tyrantis’s pulse of energy rejuvenates his fallen allies, and as a result he is “crowned” not out of fear for his supremacy in the wake of killing a powerful enemy, but in gratitude for his kindness. See? Leaning into it!

- And now I can finally reveal that Yamaneon is ATOM’s equivalent of The Monolith Monsters - that is, a kaiju that is also a mineral. I took the “strange continuously growing rock” thing in a very different direction, though, as unlike The Monolith Monsters, Yamaneon is actually alive.

- At various points in the pre-writing process, either Promythigor, MechaTyrantis, or both were going to die fighting Pathogen. I ultimately decided to let them both live, with MechaTyrantis even getting his flesh and blood body back, because I think it’s more interesting and thematically consistent that way. They get a chance to heal their wounds by changing their ways.

- The Great Beyonder and Dorazor both almost didn’t make the cut, as I felt they didn’t have the same pull as villains that Pathogen, Promythigor, and MechaTyrantis did. But then I thought that could actually be the gag - build them up as the final boss, only to have Pathogen take their crown. I want to explore post-face turn Dorazor a bit more, though. We’ll have to see about that in a later volume.

- Volumes 1 and 2 make up what I call “The Ballad of Tyrantis Arc” for ATOM. I call it that because Tyrantis’s storyline in these two volumes was patterend after Chivalric ballads like Yvain the Knight of the Lion. Tyrantis, a heroic warrior who is kind but dumb of ass, learns of strange goings on outside his home and investigates. During his journey into the unknown he falls in love with a powerful woman, whose favor he tries to win. Through happenstance he is separated from his love and, distraught, wanders around fighting various foes to prove his worth, before finally returning to his love a better hero. Invasion from Beyond! could even be seen as a sort of Morte d’Artur, with Tyrantis and a bunch of other kaiju heroes (including Nastadyne and Kemlasulla, who are built up as Hero Kaiju of Another Story) take part in a huge battle that threatens their idealic kingdom (of monsters).

- Volume 2 isn’t the end of ATOM, but it’s designed to work as an ending if you want to tap out here. As a reader I feel a definitive ending is important, but as a writer I’m always tempted to revisit my beloved characters, so I feel giving closure while leaving a few doors open for possible future adventures is a good compromise between these positions. There will be more ATOM stories, some (but not all!) following Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna, but if you want to know that Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna get an ending and the resolution to their arcs such a thing promises, here you go. An ending, if not THE END.

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #A.T.O.M. Trivia

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therecordconnection · 1 year

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Ranting and Raving: "Live and Let Die" by Paul McCartney & Wings

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1973 is a major year for Paul McCartney. It’s the year he finally started seeing success again after the Beatles. His new band, Wings, finally starts taking flight that April after the single “My Love” tops the Billboard Hot 100. Its subsequent album, Red Rose Speedway, finds success that the first Wings album didn’t find. At the end of the year, Band on the Run comes out and through the strength of its title track and “Jet,” it becomes the top selling album of 1974 in the U.K. and Australia. In between Red Rose and Band on the Run, McCartney finds another success, this time within the world of film. The latest installment in the famous 007 James Bond film series (based on a series of novels by Ian Fleming) is set to release in late June. This time, an adaptation of Fleming’s Live and Let Die will be gracing the silver screen. McCartney and his lovely wife Linda (who is also the backing vocalist/keyboardist in Wings) are the ones who will be tasked with providing the theme song for it.

Even in 1973, being the artist that provided the Bond theme for the newest film was considered a great honor. Shirley Bassey, Tom Jones, and Nancy Sinatra are a few of the famous voices who had delivered great Bond themes just a few short years before the McCartneys wrote one. Bassey and Jones even scored Top 40 hits out of them (“Goldfinger” peaked at #8 for Bassey, “Thunderball” at #25 for Jones). Paul and Linda however will do one better: “Live and Let Die” will peak at #2 on Billboard, being the Bond song that performs the best until Duran Duran takes the #1 title in 1985 with “A View to a Kill.”

But more importantly than that, “Live and Let Die,” to me, serves as the turning point for Bond themes. Starting with this song, Bond themes officially breach containment and begin to live second lives as pop songs that are almost completely divorced from the movies they’re written for. The nature of the Bond theme changes with McCartney’s contribution, but that might also be due to the fact that ‘73 was the year the nature of the Bond film series itself underwent major change.

Sean Connery, the Scottish actor who originated the role of James Bond in 1962, played 007 in every film (except On Her Majesty’s Secret Service in 1969) until Live and Let Die. After Diamonds Are Forever in 1971, Connery refused to return for another film. When Connery declined, producers needed to find a new actor to become James Bond. Sir Roger Moore ended up getting the job, starting with Live and Let Die and ending his tenure, after seven adventures, with A View to a Kill.

(Roger Moore and the main cast of Live and Let Die)

I admit that I’ve always found myself gravitating more towards Moore’s time in the role over Sir Sean. The campier nature of those films and the cheesy escapism of them makes for a fun movie night. They’re larger than life stories and they revel in the absurd. They don’t take themselves that seriously, which I see as a positive. On the negative side of things, Moore’s era is often criticized for being too campy and over the top. More action, more car chases, more ridiculousness and snark, and none of the more serious, gritty, cinematic elements that Connery’s era cemented into legend. If you ever wondered where Michael Scott might have gotten ideas for Threat Level Midnight or wondered what fueled the Austin Powers series, Moore’s time as Bond was the model.

Live and Let Die suffers from these criticisms. It’s dated as all hell, mostly due to the film being made during the height of Blaxploitation. Because of this, the movie suffers from a good number of bad 70s stereotypes. Let me paint a picture for you: Black gangsters all speak like Dolemite, pimpmobiles are present, Bond is referred to as “honky” at least three different times. At it’s best, Live and Let Die is a fun and silly action-adventure film and serves as a ridiculous time capsule from a different age. At its worst, the movie would be considered problematic by today’s standards. One very good thing can be said though: McCartney’s song has aged wonderfully.

This most likely has to do with the fact that McCartney didn’t have much to really work from. When writing “Live and Let Die,” the screenplay for the film was unfinished, which meant that his only source material to pull from was the Ian Fleming novel, which in itself is a gambit because he couldn’t be certain just how closely the film was going to follow the book. In Paul’s 2021 book, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present, he writes about the backstory of how “Live and Let Die” was written:

"Writing a Bond song is a bit of an accolade, and I always had a sneaking ambition to do it. Ron [Kass] told me the film was called Live and Let Die. The screenplay wasn't finished at that point, so I got the Ian Fleming book, and it's a real page-turner. I just spent that afternoon immersing myself in the book, so when I sat down to write the song, I knew how to approach it. I didn't want the song to be, 'You've got a gun. Now go kill people. Live and let die.'" That's just not me. I wanted it to be, 'Let it go. Don't worry about it. When you've got problems, just live and let die.' Once I had that thought in my head, the song almost wrote itself."

Just as McCartney had the pressure of bringing a new Bond theme into the world, Roger Moore had the pressure of having to reintroduce the world to James Bond. How do you breathe new life to a character and adapt it to your specific strengths? How do you do this while still retaining all of the things that made people fall in love with the character in the first place? Ultimately, it was Moore that had the bigger pressure to deliver the goods, but McCartney’s song certainly helps and I think McCartney’s more pop direction for the theme served Moore’s first outing as Bond more than something orchestral, sweeping, and cinematic like the themes to From Russia With Love or Goldfinger did. “Live and Let Die” has a “movie theme” vibe to it, but it’s much more over the top and silly sounding by comparison, which suits the direction that the seven films made with Roger Moore would eventually go. Getting a pop songwriter like McCartney to provide the theme just feels right when considering that.

Roger Moore’s first outing in Live and Let Die immediately separated his Bond from Connery’s version. For starters, Moore had a more dapper look than Connery and a kinder looking face. He had the look of a classic playboy, natural with a cigarette and a martini in his hand at the bar. While both Bonds were charming womanizers, Moore’s Bond was more of a smooth talking ladies man, where Connery was often rude and chauvinistic. Most importantly, Moore was a witty son of a bitch, having an utter mastery over one liners and elite quickness with a joke. The man had snark on lock and was the kind of Bond who looked and sounded like he talked his way out of situations rather than solve them with violence and weaponry. Connery’s version of Bond wouldn’t have fared well with the campier, goofier “popcorn movie” direction the series would take through the rest of the 70s and 80s. It was clear that Eon Productions (the company behind every Bond film) wanted to create movies that not only made a lot of money, but appealed to a wide variety of audiences. Action! Adventure! Romance! Thrills and chills! Bond delivers on all of this and more.

As does McCartney’s song. I’ve spent a lot of time so far writing about Bond and the movie that the song was written for, but really, it almost doesn’t matter when you look at the song itself. There are probably plenty of McCartney fans who are completely unaware that the song is the theme to a movie of the same name. There’s nothing in the song’s lyrics that is exclusive to the movie. Granted, songs like “Thunderball” and “You Only Live Twice” don’t have anything exclusive to their respective movies either, but they still don’t sound like pop songs you could hear on the radio or out in the wild. McCartney made a smart move by playing to his strengths and writing just a straight, well constructed pop song, which is always a good use of your Paul McCartney.

The song itself contains at least three different and distinct musical ideas. Think like how “Band on the Run” is three little songs strung together to make a single piece. The first part starts very simply with McCartney at the piano, delivering a damn fine melody. The lyrics are vague enough that you can either relate them back to James Bond or relate them to yourself, which adds to the listener’s ability to divorce it from the movie. It’s a hopeful song. If you have problems, if something just won’t go right, just let it go. “Live and let die.” McCartney takes the title of a pulp spy novel and turns it into a philosophy of casting aside the things that don’t work anymore; the things that mess with you.

When you were young and your heart was an open book / You used to say live and let live / (you know you did, you know you did, you know you did) / But if this ever changing world in which we're living / Makes you give in and cry / ... / Say live and let die

Those three little piano notes and that brief empty space in the song right before McCartney sings, “Say live and let die” kills every single time I hear it. The explosion and combination of guitar and horns gives the song that grand, cinematic feeling. It’s fantastic. The way that the orchestration takes over and drives the song. You can almost picture car chases and gunfights in your head as it’s going. It rises and builds until it crescendos and becomes... a reggae tune?

What does it matter to ya? / When you got a job to do / You gotta do it well / You gotta give the other fellow hell

It becomes a reggae tune for about ten seconds before rising again with “You gotta give the other fellow hell” and letting the orchestration back in the driver’s seat. It’s a weird shift and even weirder, it still works. That bit came from Linda McCartney, a woman who had a love of reggae music and somehow found a way to work it in, proving that she enjoyed off-the-wall musical ideas in much of the same vein that her husband did. It’s one of the most memorable parts of the song and it adds to the fun of the whole thing. There’s no way to know if it was fully intentional on Linda’s part, but the movie does have a good number of scenes that take place in the Caribbean, so the idea of this sweeping, loud, grand movie theme turning into a reggae tune real quick is a musical idea that does tie into the film. If you’ve seen the film, the connection makes sense. If you haven’t, it’s just another oddball idea in a McCartney song. “Live and Let Die” gets to enjoy the best of both worlds.

The major reason I think “Live and Let Die” has gotten to live a life beyond the movie it was written for is due to the fact that it’s just a well constructed and well executed song. When McCartney plays the song live, he makes it as wild and over the top as any Moore-era Bond film. When he sings “Say live and let die” in concert, the explosion of sound following it involves a good deal of pyrotechnics, fireworks, and sweeping spotlights. It’s a fantastic number and it’s not just a great Bond song, it’s a great song, period. There’s no dead weight that could be trimmed from this thing. It doesn’t even suffer from the classic McCartney songwriting issue of not knowing how/when a song needs to end. It’s a perfect three minute affair that has great musical ideas stuffed into it. It’s pure and classic McCartney in its greatest form. There’s so many little moments in this song that you wait for and you fall in love with every single time. It's a fun ride that's just as exciting and thrilling as the movie it was written for.

“Live and Let Die” is the song that proved a Bond theme didn’t have to just be tied to the movie it was written for. It can exist beyond it. Marvin Hamlisch and Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better,” Sheena Easton’s “For Your Eyes Only,” and Duran Duran’s “A View to a Kill” are all great pop songs that followed in the wake of what “Live and Let Die” pulled off. You don’t have to have seen The Spy Who Loved Me, For Your Eyes Only, or A View to a Kill to love those songs, just like you don’t have to have seen the movie Live and Let Die in order to enjoy the song that borrowed its name. Great pop songs have a way of living their own unique lives and finding an audience beyond what they were written to be, whether commissioned for a movie or not.

When you got a job to do, you gotta do it well and this song does its job very well.

#ranting and raving #paul mccartney #wings #live and let die #original post #Youtube

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 27, 2021: Love Actually (2003) (Part 1)

We gotta start this Recap.

Just trust me here, this one’s gonna be a lot. Why? Because this is Love Actually.

And I really want to talk about it, I REALLY do, but...this is not only a long movie, but an anthology, so it’s gonna be...complicated. But, I will say one thing. If you’ve been reading this since January, then you’ll know that this blog was inspired by the book Shit, Actually by Lindy West, a collection of hilarious movie essays that I love. And, yeah, this film is its namesake. So, although I want to go more into it, we gotta get started. Sorry for the rush, but...TRUST ME.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

An airport! We see families and other loved ones reunited at Heathrow, as narration begins, telling us that love is everywhere. After name-dropping 9/11...TWO YEARS after it had happened (too soon, David), he states that “love actually is all around.”

Got it. So, as the 2003 film All Around begins, singer Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) is trying to sing a Christmas-themed version of “Love Is All Around,” which is pretty goddamn bad. His recording manager Joe (Gregor Fisher) agrees. Jamie (Colin Firth) tells his sick girlfriend (Sienna Guillory) that he loves her, and he takes off for something that he can’t attend.

Daniel (Liam Neeson), a fresh widower, calls his friend Karen (Emma Thompson) a mom bidding her daughter a good day as she heads to school. Jack (Martin Freeman) and Judy (Joanna Page) are...air humping on a set? I need to know more. Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Juliet (Kiera Knightley) are getting married in a church, with their friend Mark (Andrew Lincoln) as the best man. And FINALLY, David (Hugh Grant) has just been elected as the new Prime Minister, where he meets Natalie (Martine McCutcheon), a member of the household staff.

...Well, that is a lot. Goddamn. So, this is an anthology movie, huh? I’ll try to cover this as smoothly as I can.

Peter and Juliet say their vows, and as they walk out, they are surprised by a rendition of the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love”, organized by Mark. At the wedding is Jamie, whose brother is at his apartment when he returns home early. He’s there to fuck his girlfriend. Oh. Shit. Well, sorry, Jamie.

Also at the wedding is Colin (Kris Marshall), a waiter and messenger who’s been trying to woo British women, but is constantly failing. When talking to his friend Tony (Abdul Sallis), he insists that he’s going to the USA, where the women will appreciate his accent. Tony tells him to simply accept that he’s a “lonely, ugly asshole”. Colin, in response, calls himself a God of sex on the wrong continent. A pair, these two.

Tony is a production assistant, working on the film that Jack and Judy are in. They’re apparently professional stand-ins, actors who substitute actors in film set-up, in order to figure out lighting and cinematography. Neat! Well, normally. Here, they’re standing in for a sex scene, and they ask Judy to go topless, to see how best to frame the shot. And it gets...increasingly awkward. And it’s pretty goddamn funny.

Meanwhile, a funeral. Oof, tone whiplash right there. It’s a funeral for Daniel’s wife Joanna, and she leaves behind him and her son, Sam (Thomas Sangster AKA fuckin’ Joffrey, but I won’t hold that against him). Back at the wedding, Mark stares on longingly at the dancing Peter and Juliet. A woman asks if he’s in love with Mark, and he replies no.

At an office building, another guest at the wedding, Sarah (Laura Linney), is a worker at a graphic design company run by Harry (...awww, Alan Rickman). His secretary Mia (Heike Makatsch) brings her in to Harry’s office, where he tells her that he and everyone else in the office knows that she’s in love with fellow worker Karl (Rodrigo Santoro), and that he should get it over with an ask him out. He walks by her, and she doesn’t say anything, while also recieving a call...from someone she refers to as “babe”. Well, I feel a little infidelity coming on.

On Mia’s radio, Billy Mack’s shitty Christmas song is playing, and a radio host agrees as Bill’s brought on for an interview. Bill shares the sentiment in what must be the most depressing radio interview I’ve ever heard. In that interview with Mikey (Marcus Brigstocke), he basically completely sabotages his own record, and probably his entire career. This interview is followed with news about the Prime Minister.

David, new PM, has been bonding more with Natalie, and the two definitely appear to like each other. He also comes up in conversation between Judy and Jack, as their stand-in sex scene has progressed to basically just straight-up sex, which feels...I feel like this doesn’t fucking happen with stand-ins in movies...right? Like, come on, that’s a LOT of breached privacy, and I feel like it’s not that realistic. Anyway, the two use the opportunity to make small talk, and Jack tells Judy that he appreciates having someone to talk to. She agrees, and it’s cute in an extremely awkward way!

Production assistant Tony is heading home, and is getting a ride from Colin, who announces that he’s bought a ticket for a trip to the beautiful land of Wisconsin, where he will certainly meet some hot, hot babes. Tony does not agree.

Back at Harry’s office, he and Mia plan the company Christmas party. Mia unsubtly notes that she kinda has the hots for him, and he’s not saying no. Meanwhile, Daniel and Karen are talking about the fact that his stepson Sam seems to be having a lot of trouble, understandably, and Daniel’s not doing much better.

Karen does her best to help him through it, and Daniel does his best to help the troubled Samuel. But he can’t coax much out of Samuel to figure out what’s wrong. Samuel finally opens up, but tells Daniel that he’s in love. Daniel’s surprised, but he insists that he’s in love, with a young woman named Sansa Stark, but he must find a way to ensure her loyalty, if ONLY HER NOBLE FATHER WASN’T IN THE...right, sorry, Game of Thrones.

OK, anyway, Sam’s in love, and in complete agony about it. Daniel tries to coach Sam through his feelings, and is genuinely being a supportive-as-hell stepdad. Also in love and in agony is Sarah, staring at Karl from afar one night as the office closes down. And then, also in agony is Jamie, fresh off of his breakup with his cheating girlfriend. He’s in a GORGEOUS AS FUCK house in the French countryside, and sits down to write.

Back in London, David tries to get to know Natalie a bit better, and they...I mean, they’re 100% gonna get together by the end. We’re just working through the romantic folderol right now. Natalie leaves, and David asks a portrait of Margaret Thatcher is she had that problem, calling her a, uh...a “saucy minx.” Well, OK.

Billy Mack is on a television show, continuing his press tour and reminding us once again that he used to be addicted to heroin. Joe is not happy. Mark, an artist, calls Peter, and is put on the line with Juliet. Peter asks him to “be nice,” but when he they talk to each other, he’s rather short when she asks for some of his footage from the wedding.

Back at Harry’s, Mia is laying it on fuckin’ THIIIIIICK, Jesus, while Sarah ends up pining once more for Karl. At his college in the French countryside, a new housekeeper, Aurélia ( Lúcia Moniz), has been hired to take care of his place. However, there’s a serious language barrier between the two, as she’s Portuguese, and he’s too talkative, goddamn. It’s awkward. It’s a little awkward.

David’s got a meeting with the President of the United States (Billy Bob Thornton), who IMMEDIATELY notes Natalie’s attractiveness. Political tensions are also rough between the two and their administrations. The two have a private meeting later, and David leaves the room for a moment. However, when he goes back in, he sees Natalie kissing the President! Whaaaaaaaat? That’s a...fucking terrible idea, Mr. President, what the FUCK? HAVE YOU HEARD OF BILL CLINTON

The next day, at a press conference, David gives into his rage about the affair, and he acts more assertive towards the President, noting that he won’t bow to the President’s bullying. Wow. International crisis time because of a fuckin’ girl! Who’s the saucy minx, now, Thatcher? WHO’S THE SAUCY MINX NOW

Right afterwards, he gets a call from his sister: Karen. Huh. She notes her frustrations with his actions, but he’s too busy and hangs up. She states her frustrations to her husband: Harry. DOUBLE HUH. After everything, though, David retires for the night. The radio station plays a song for him, and David responds by dancing around 10 Downing Street. And it’s hilarious. And I love it?

At Jamie’s cottage, he and Aurélia start to bond regardless of their language barrier, and their conversations seem to gel with each other, despite them not understanding that themselves. It’s actually...kind of cute. I dunno, I kind of like it. I think it’s sweet. Overly saccharine, yeah, but sweet as the two fall in love. Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ sap, what can I say?

Juliet visits Mark, who’s once again acting fairly cold towards her. She confronts him about it, and notes that she wants to genuinely become friends with him. Mark seems to agree with this, but still notes that he has no video of the wedding. And yet, she finds it, only to discover that Mark doesn’t hate her. Actually, he likes her. Actually...he loves her. And, uh...fuck, yeah, he LOOOOOOOOVES her. And she figures that out once she realizes that the video of the wedding doesn’t feature Peter in it AT ALL.

Y’know, I’m really worried that this is becoming an infidelity situation, but I have to admit...Mark’s a good man, and a great friend to Peter. He knows that he loves Juliet, but he keeps his distance for the sake of his friend. And that is...actually amazingly honorable. Damn. You’re a good man, Mark.

At 10 Downing Street, David asks his assistant Annie (Nina Sosanya) to put Natalie in another position, as her presence is distracting him. And that is...responsible. That’s pretty damn responsible. OK, I can dig it. She’s soon replaced, and you can see that David is saddened by that.

His sister’s best friend's stepson, Sam, has just gotten bad news. His crush, Joanna (oh, yeah, his crush has the same name as his deceased mother, forgot to mention THAT little tidbit), is going back to the USA. After discovering that she’s American, Daniel decides to cheer him up by watching Titanic together. AND AGAIN. This relationship is adorable, and I love Daniel’s hardcore good dad energy.

Jamie and Aurélia need to bid each other goodbye, as Jamie is headed back to England. However, as they part, Aurélia kisses him goodbye, which seems to break him a little. Meanwhile, Billy Mack has shot a video for his terrible song, which inspires Sam to perform in a school concert to get Joanna to fall in lover with him and get her to stay. But he doesn’t play an instrument, and chooses to learn the drums, to Daniel’s dismay.

At Harry’s company Christmas party, Mia is hitting HARDCORE on Harry, which Karen notices. She’s speaking to Sarah, and encourages her to dance with Karl, while to two stand in front of Mark’s photographs, and...

TOO MUCH. IT’S TOO GODDAMN MUCH

I...I gotta take a break, and we’re at the halfway point anyway. See you in Part 2.

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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Queen live at Capital Centre in Landover, MD, USA - November 29, 1977

(x)

A fan filmed the first couple minutes of the show on a silent Super 8 camera, but he was caught by a security guard and the film was confiscated.

Another fan recalls the band took a 30 minute break in the middle of the show, and started the second half of the show with Tie Your Mother Down. He also says they performed both Spread Your Wings and It's Late.

Here is a review of the show from the next day's Washington Post. It reveals that the band have swapped Keep Yourself Alive with Now I'm Here. The former now follows Bohemian Rhapsody in the setlist, as it had earlier in the year.

There is a great story on Brian May's website by Tracy Chevalier, who attended the show as a youngster:

It started with a champagne toast and ended with a limo pulling away into the night. In between these two gestures symbolising glamour and sophistication, I lost my virginity. Not in the technical sense (that would take another few years), but in other ways. At my first ever rock concert — going with four friends to see Queen at the Capital Centre in November 1977 — I got an eye-opening peek at elements of the adult world, with its power and its limitations, its glittering artifice and dirty reality, and it demonstrated how little I knew and how much I had yet to learn about life.

I was ripe for it; overdue, really. I had turned 15 the month before the concert, and though people thought I looked older than I was, I was remarkably naive and unworldly at that age. Despite a few character-building events in my childhood — the death of my mother when I was almost 8, the experience of being a minority in DC public schools — I was so unsophisticated, so unaware of the world, that I didn’t even realise Queen was an English band until the lead singer Freddie Mercury appeared in a tight white catsuit on stage at the Capital Centre, raised a glass of champagne at 18,000 screaming fans, and toasted us with “Good evening, Washington” in a fruity English accent. I was stunned. Then I started screaming.

I had been a Queen fan for a couple of years by then. A Night at the Opera was the first LP I bought, and I could sing every word of every song. I don’t remember how I was introduced to Queen — though I do remember hearing their biggest hit, Bohemian Rhapsody, on the radio and being impressed by its audacity. It sure beat the hell out of the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Neil Young, which had been my older sister’s staple music diet. By 14, I was writing Queen lyrics on the desk where I sat for algebra class, swapping them back and forth with a boy I had a crush on, and daydreaming of guitarist Brian May kissing me.

The concert was part of Queen’s News of the World tour. While not a great album, especially after the double whammy of A Night at the Opera and its follow-up, A Day at the Races, it did produce two of their best-known songs, We Will Rock You and We are the Champions, which drop-kicked them firmly into stadium anthem territory. Appropriately, the concert began with the lights going down and the primitive, effective, impossible-not-to-join-in-with BOOM- BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI intro to We Will Rock You rolling over the audience. Everyone immediately jumped up out of their seats and began to stomp and clap along. I, too, stood and stomped and clapped, watching in awe as people began flicking their Bic lighters, a gesture I had never seen before. What, were they going to set light to something? I had tried not to act surprised earlier when people nearby started smoking grass in public, but now was there going to be a riot? What other illegal things would go on that night? Then a spotlight picked out Freddie Mercury, who began to sing, “Buddy you’re a boy, make a big noise, playin’ in the street, gonna be a big man someday . . .” and I thought, “Jesus H. Christ, that is the loudest noise I’ve ever heard! Is that legal?” The wall of sound terrified me, and I wanted to cover my ears, but I didn’t dare, as it would have been a very uncool thing to do. I think I looked around for the exit, wondering how many people I would have to climb over to escape the sound. It was just so goddamned loud — exhilarating, yes, but painful, too, dangerous and overwhelming. I wavered between loving it and hating it, but knew it would be uncool to hate it, so I’d better try to love it.

Towards the end of the song the single note of an electric guitar began to hum louder and louder under the chorus we were all singing and shouting, and Brian May stepped into the light to add his distinctive sound, ending We Will Rock You with low, long-sustain, three-part harmony chords, overlaid with a high melody he made fuzzy and metallic by using a coin as a guitar pick. I adored Brian May. He was the reserved, straight guy (literally) to Freddie Mercury’s camp high jinks — tall, dark, good-looking, with long curly hair and a melancholy pensiveness that made every teenage girl want to comfort him. At this concert he was wearing a silvery white jacket with long, pleated wing sleeves; that combined with his mop of curls should have made him look effeminate, but instead he was deeply sexy.

I loved Freddie, too, for his outrageous antics, his riskiness, his joy at performing and glorious indifference to how ridiculous he looked wearing glittery leotard jumpsuits, eyeliner and a mullet, prancing and strutting and posing, twitching his hips, smacking his lips and otherwise hamming it up. But even without being conscious of Freddie’s sexual preference — I hadn’t yet met anyone who was openly gay — I instinctively sensed he was not to be lusted after. For all his extrovert, welcoming stage presence, he was clearly playing a part, which served to hold us at arm’s length; whereas Brian May’s taciturn moodiness was clearly himself served up raw.

Thank God for Freddie, though. Without him, no one would have moved on stage: Brian May was not a dancer, John Deacon, in time-honoured bassist tradition, stood solidly in one place throughout, and Roger Taylor was trapped by his drum kit.

To set us at our ease, after We Will Rock You Freddie toasted us with a glass of champagne — “Moët et Chandon, of course,” after the reference in the hit Killer Queen. My friends and I heard this and screamed and clutched one another. He mentioned Moët et Chandon! That was our champagne! He was acknowledging us! I swear he made eye contact with me, 200 yards away and over the heads of thousands.

For we had done what we thought was the most original and extravagant gesture (for 15-year-olds) a fan could make: we had sent a bottle of champagne backstage. We’d pooled our money and gotten an older sister to buy it for us — the same sister who had been obliged to drive us all the way to the Capital Centre, smirking at our overexcited fandom. We’d even made our way to the stage door down a loading dock at the back of the arena and reluctantly handed over the precious bottle to a bored roadie, who said he would take it to the band. We’d had our doubts about his reliability, and his jadedness had dampened our enthusiasm a bit: had we really blown all that money — $20, which in those days meant 20 hours of babysitting — to have some unshaven jerk with a beer belly swill the precious liquid? But clearly the roadie had pulled through for us, for there was our champagne in Freddie Mercury’s hand, and he was referring to Moët et Chandon in his pretty cabinet, the lyrics we had so cleverly quoted in the note we sent along with the bottle. We were sure we — among the many thousands — had managed to get through to the band.

If we had bothered to look around rather than feast our eyes on Brian and Freddie (I’m afraid John Deacon and Roger Taylor never got a look-in from me), we probably would have seen other clusters of fans also screaming and clutching one another during Freddie’s toast. But we didn’t look around or harbour doubts, or we ignored them. It was only much later that I allowed myself to consider the veritable champagne lake that must have existed backstage at every Queen concert. Tip to rock stars: want a free truckload of champagne wherever you go? Sing a song that mentions some — preferably name-checking a more expensive brand to ensure better quality — and watch it pour in backstage every night from adoring fans. There must have been a hundred bottles from fans back there, not counting the stash the band may well have brought with them in case Portland or Houston or Detroit weren’t so generous. No wonder that roadie looked so bored — he’d probably been put on champagne duty that night.

Freddie’s toast worked its magic, though, giving me the connection I needed to negotiate a place within the strangeness of the concertgoing experience itself: the weird, scary power of a crowd; the mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment at collective participation; the physical discomfort of standing for two hours when there’s a perfectly comfortable seat behind you. It is one of those tricky, unresolved tensions at concerts: are we there to listen to the music or actively respond to it, participate as a group or answer our needs as individuals? It’s an issue I’ve never entirely resolved — from Queen onwards I have spent concerts going in and out of myself, losing myself to the music and spectacle one minute, the next minute overly conscious of myself clapping or singing or screaming, and wondering why concerts have to be such an uncomfortable physical ordeal.

I was taken aback by the sound of Queen’s music live: not just the volume, but the familiarity and also the strange rawness of the songs. Studio albums have all the mistakes airbrushed out, the layers added in, the balance between players carefully calibrated, like clever dialogue in a play without the awkward pauses and unfinished conversations you get in real life. Queen albums were highly produced, multi-layered affairs. Live, the music was necessarily stripped of a lot of the choral mixing, more raucous, simpler and much messier.

The band wisely didn’t dare attempt to reproduce in its entirety the long, baroque confection that is Bohemian Rhapsody. For the infamous operatic middle section, the band members left the stage as the studio recording played. Freddie and Brian then changed costume, and, at the word “Beelzebub”, all four men popped out of a door in the stage floor and joined live again for the heavy metal section, fireworks going off, dry ice pouring out, everyone going berserk, me in tears of excitement. It was one of the best live moments I’ve ever witnessed. Indeed, I was spoiled by seeing Queen play live before anyone else; for sheer exuberant theatricality, no one else has come close.

The concert ended with an instrumental version of God Save the Queen and once more the flicking of the Bics, which, no longer the virgin concertgoer, I understood now as a gesture of tribute. My friends and I weren’t finished, though. Emboldened by Freddie’s toast, we decided to go to the stage entrance again and say hello. I still choke with embarrassment when I think of it. When we got there, a black limousine was pulling away, our heroes and their entourage inside, and we were left with the detritus: older, dolled-up, hard-bitten groupies who had followed the band around and not made this night’s cut. I stared at one, at her long, bleach-blond hair, her miniskirt, her bright red lipstick. She glared at me briefly; then her face went slack as she dismissed the idea of me being any sort of competition. In fact, I had not really taken in that there was a competition, that the girls (and I?) were here to spread our wares and catch the attention of one of the men, and then . . . And then? I hadn’t thought it through at all. I wouldn’t have known what to do with such a man as Brian May if he even so much as looked at me. All I knew was that I was way, way out of my depth, that even if I had eluded the roadie minding the door, there was no way I was ever going to get past a woman like this.

The contrast between the sparkling theatricality of the concert and the gritty reality of the backstage, with its dirty concrete, anonymous faces and unfulfilled dreams turned my stomach, and almost ruined the night. I wished I hadn’t seen it, because it reminded me that the show was a fantasy, while it was my aching feet and the roadies’ boredom and the groupies’ hard desperation that constituted real life. As I stood watching the limo pull away and the unsexy women stand about, licking their wounds, looking for a ride to the next city and another chance, I felt as if a door had been kicked open a crack on to a world I knew nothing about: the seamy underbelly of the concertgoing experience, a mix of sex and power and exploitation, of cigarettes and poorly applied make-up and long, cold nights waiting to be noticed and defining yourself by someone else’s attention. If that was grown-up life, I didn’t want to know about it. I wanted the champagne toast, but not the limo. Not yet.

Fan Stories

“I had just turned 16 a few weeks earlier. I was absolutely 100% in love with Queen (since age 13 when first hearing Killer Queen on the radio) and therefore could hardly believe my sister's friend, who worked with her at the Roy Rogers restaurant at the mall, who said she knew Freddie Mercury's girlfriend, Mary, and that she was going to get a backstage pass and would try to get one for us as well. Well, just before the concert she met my sister at a pre-arranged point (inside the venue) and said that she was unable to get us the backstage passes. You can imagine my disappointment and my thinking at this point that this girl was not telling the truth about knowing Freddie's girlfriend (it seemed too good to be true to me to begin with). Then after the concert, which was great of course, we were depressed (my sister and I - but especially me) at not getting to meet them, so we decided to wait for their limo to come out of the underground parking area at the Capital Centre. When it emerged we got so excited we decided to sprint to our big blue station wagon and follow them. With my learner's permit only, I followed them at probably over 80 miles per hour - I remember it being the fastest I had ever driven but I was determined not to lose them - to a restaurant somewhere in DC. At that age, I didn't have my bearings around the city. We didn't want to freak them out so I think we just watched them go inside from our car. Then we ended up waiting outside in the cold air for I think around 2 hours - anyway - enough to turn my nose red and make my lips and toes numb. We weren't allowed in the restaurant - and there was a bouncer from Liverpool out front that prevented us from even going in the lobby to warm up. At one point Roger came down the stairs into the lobby and I smiled at him and he smiled back and started over to the door - but was stopped by another man who grabbed his arm. So then he just continued downstairs to the bathroom, and ignored us when he went back up the stairs. When they finally emerged from the restaurant, I was frozen in more ways than just the temp. Brian said, "It's a bit cold out here". One of them (I don't know who because I think I was in shock) said, "So, were you at the concert?" And we said yes. My friend who was hardly a Queen fan grabbed the attention for herself by shouting "That was the best concert I've ever seen!" or some such thing. I was so embarrassed not being able to think of anything to say in my stunned condition. Freddie looked at me briefly then looked over at my sister. He nodded at my sister but he never stopped walking to the limo. Brian walked over to me and said something like, "Did you enjoy the concert?" and I think I mumbled something like, "Yes. It was fantastic." Then all I could think to say was "Can I have your autograph?" He said "Sure" and ended up giving me the autograph and his pen. So I had to tap him on the arm to get his attention to give him his pen back. "Here's your pen." Can you imagine - here I am meeting my idols and all I can say is this? This all happened within about 20 or 30 seconds it seemed, and they all got into the limo quickly - they seemed pretty tired. I can't remember if they had one or two limos. All four of the members were there and I think a couple of other men - probably manager and driver(s). Freddie didn't say anything, just acknowledged us without a smile and got into the limo. John did the same. I remember thinking Brian was pretty tall. I stood very close to him. I am almost 5 foot 9 and he towered above me it seemed. Of course the hair probably added several inches! The best part of the story I guess is that my sister's friend, the one who knew Mary, said that when the band got back to the hotel they said there were some "nice working girls" waiting outside the restaurant. I guess they thought we were older - we were only 16 and 17 and still in high school of course. We were dressed very conservatively and with long coats.

My sister's co-worker said that she was good friends with Mary, because their families had been neighbors, and so was happy to get to visit with her. Also she said she thought that Freddie was the nicest member of the group, but very shy.” - Donna13

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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monkberries · 3 years

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Wait what's wrong with the AKOM How Do You Sleep episode? I remember it being fine but its been ages since i listened to it so if you've got any thoughts I'd love to hear them :)

Be aware, this is only about the first episode, not about the George-focused episode. If they resolve any of the issues I have with the first episode in the second episode, then I sincerely apologize.

First, there are some things they talk about that I agree with! Near the end of the episode, they discuss the dynamic between John and the people around him in a really insightful way, and in a way I’ve often thought about it; both John and the people around him were all kind of in this mindset of “oh, Paul rejected us? Well, we didn’t want him ANYWAY! So THERE!” They also discuss the fact that John was very easily manipulated, and nearly his entire support system (minus Ringo, and shame on them for not mentioning that) basically egged his anger and viciousness on. And they also play/read some interviews with John about the song and tangential subjects, and it’s always nice to hear primary sources.

However, much like their post about Lewisohn, I find a lot of this episode excessive, overtorqued, and generally far too exaggerated. They perceive an imbalance in narratives (which I do think is there, just not to the extent they say) and overcorrect, imho.

First, I want to get my opinion on the song itself out of the way: I listen to it a lot. It’s on my Fall 2020 playlist. I enjoy the musicality, the style; the mood it evokes is extremely strong to me. Sometimes it’s fun to indulge in feeling evil or mean without having to actually be evil or mean! Plus, I love playing it right before Jealous Guy, or Steel and Glass, or I Know (I Know), just to get that maximum John Lennon Mood Whiplash effect. I think George’s solo is vicious and perfect for the mood as well. However, the lyrics are pretty horrendous in terms of their effect on Paul and his feelings; they’re also horrendous in that they’re just not well-written lyrics. IMHO you can tell it was written by three different people all throwing insults at the wall to see what would stick and rhyme. Half of the digs don’t even make sense. “So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise/You better see right through that mother’s eyes” Wut? “The one mistake you made was in your head” ??? The hell do these things even mean lmao

Anyway. Onto the episode itself.

Around 1 minute in, they say that there’s not a lot of check and balance in the Beatles fandom w/r/t this song, and that much of the fandom espouses that HDYS was “deserved” and “honest”. They reiterate this sentiment over in different ways throughout the episode, and I just do not see that kind of thing being a majority opinion in Beatles fandom spaces at all. Perhaps they are occupying different fandom spaces than I occupy (tumblr/Hey Dullblog/beatlebioreview), and it is true where they are? (In which case, my goodness, find some better blogs to follow, babes!) They talk about how they’ve never seen anyone pick it apart before, and that the discussion around it has not changed, that people have been saying Paul deserved it since it came out. Again, this is does not jive with my experience in the Beatles fandom.

From Shout!, a book with a well known anti-McCartney streak, published in 1981: “John’s Imagine album - despite the plea for universal peace and brotherhood in the title track - launched a thermo-nuclear strike back at Paul with ‘How Do You Sleep?’ a title suggesting crimes almost in the realm of first-degree murder. The McCartney references were unmistakable, and, often, cruelly unjust: ‘The freaks was right when they said you was dead... The only thing you done was Yesterday...’ There was even a two-fingered gesture of contempt for Paul’s new outdoor life with Linda on their Scottish farm.” Also, the RS review spends two paragraphs talking specifically about how heinous and unjustifiable HDYS is. You can definitely say that rock journalism takes some of the attitude of HDYS and runs with them, such as Paul’s music sounding like muzak - that sentiment certainly persisted. But I would argue that most of the shit journos are reacting to and buying into comes from Lennon Remembers primarily, where John says all the same crap and more, and worse, rather than HDYS itself, which they seem to balk at.

They make the claim as well that the Imagine LP has been elevated to some kind of untouchable, un-criticizeable status. In the years after his death, I think there is probably some truth to that, although again, untouchable is an extreme word. Even in 2003, the LP was number 80 on Rolling Stone’s top 500 albums of all time. However, it was 227 on NME’s list in 2013 and dropped to 223 on Rolling Stone’s new 2020 list, suggesting a waning in popularity over time and a willingness to look more objectively at the quality of it.

The thing that really bothered me about this episode is like... They talk about the need for nuanced discussion of the song, right? And that’s all fine and good, and I agree, nuance in any Beatles discussion is essential if you want to get close to any actual truth. However, they then go on to say, quite adamantly, that if you say the music of the song is good, even if you think the lyrics are awful, then they wouldn’t even bother having a conversation with you. It’s very “We want nuance! NO NOT LIKE THAT! YOU’RE DOING NUANCE WRONG!” Like, I’m sorry, the music is good, in my opinion! John is very good at evoking a mood! The fact that I think George’s solo is incredible, or that the keyboard riff gives me chills, or that I think the bass goes super hard, doesn’t mean I don’t understand how rough the lyrics are or the effect they had on Paul. In fact, imho, I think it’s important that we discuss how quality the music is because it underscores the calculated cruelty John exhibited. He worked hard on this song. He wanted to create a very specific feeling out of it, and he succeeded in spades. I think if it had been crappy musically, people would have been much more contemptuous of it than they already are. As I said earlier, some of the digs don’t even make sense; I think they’re bolstered and propped up specifically because the music underneath them is so good. Also, it’s not fucking wrong to enjoy a groove.

I also take some issue with them saying that HDYS was easily among the worst things John ever did. Like... equivalent or worse than going on anti-Semitic, homophobic rants? Yikes.

There are many instances in this episode where they will go “I often read things like...” or “Jean Jackets will say...” or “I see this a lot...” and then never actually talk about where they see these things or quote directly from them. One instance goes “I often read things like, ‘John Lennon is expressing years of pent-up resentment over creative differences’, as if John is some kind of, like, drunk art teacher doling out free advice to Paul on his music.” I’ve read a lot about HDYS and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that. Just about every discussion of the song I’ve seen says very clearly that it was an unjustified, deeply personal attack. I realize there is an aversion to publicly Naming Names when you’re calling out people who perpetuate a bad narrative. But I want to know where this stuff comes from. I want to actually see what it is they’re upset about.

Lastly, they talk near the end about music innovation and experimentation, and this is where I think things go much too far in overcorrecting a narrative. The well-known narrative for many years post breakup was that Paul was a boring square who wrote granny music. That is true; he was much maligned in the press about that. However, I think post-Hertsgaard, post-Revolution In The Head, post-Complete Recording Sessions, and post-Many Years From Now, that attitude has changed quite a bit. Most serious Beatles fans know now that Paul was the first one to really get into Avant-Garde stuff; most fans know about the fact that he made McCartney 1 basically alone in a homemade studio. Most fans have probably heard or at least heard of Temporary Secretary, lmao.

But it feels like these women are still living in the past where Paul was still being maligned for being a square, so instead they go way far to the other end and say “Paul was the musical innovator, not John.” And that is just flat out NOT true. They were BOTH musical innovators. The fact that Paul was the first to get into avant-garde art does not exclude John from also being incredibly innovative and experimental in his own way. Perhaps he wasn’t doing that on Imagine; they are right that Imagine is a collection of really good but fairly commercial songs. But they utterly discount the fact that he did Strawberry Fields Forever, and I Want You (She’s So Heavy), popularized backmasking, was one of the first if not the first to use amp feedback in a song in I Feel Fine, experimented with recording his voice differently with Tomorrow Never Knows and Revolution, and also the entirety of Plastic Ono Band!!! You don’t have to downplay or erase John’s experimental contributions to music in order to elevate Paul’s. You can elevate both of them. It’s fine.

Also, this is the episode where they say Lewisohn’s book is exactly the same as all the other Jean Jackets books except thicker, and I have a viscerally bad reaction to that for many reasons I have already outlined on this blog. Suffice to say, it is demonstrably untrue (not least because Lewisohn hasn’t published anything in his Tune In series that goes beyond 1962) and unfair to someone who has done an unbelievable amount of legwork to back up his writing. They also compare Lewisohn to Goldman (???????) and call them John and Yoko’s “fuckin bitch boys saying the same shit over and over again.” I have to imagine Goldman was a misspeak and she meant someone else, but still that jarred me lmfao

#about the blogger #Anonymous #podcast blues

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