#we only ever sing the first two verses but apparently there are ELEVEN of those in ours???

[qqueenofhades]

Modern AU Heartrender Husbands gives me the vibes of like they'll watch eurovision bc Fedyor wanted to and Ivan only begrudgingly agreed but in the end it's him who's standing really close to the TV with a bottle of beer loudly criticising the jury vote

Anon, your Mind. As 100% ever, I am so very easy to enable. As before, this is set in Phantom!Verse, and serves as a sequel of sorts to this (and as a further prequel to PEL).

Brighton Beach, 2014

It’s their first spring in their new home – they arrived in America in August 2013 and got this place, fittingly, right around Orthodox Christmas in January 2014 – and that means many things to them. Their apartment is in a formerly rent-controlled brownstone tenement right off the boardwalk, but prior to their arrival, it was occupied for fifty years by an old bat from Krasnodar Krai who apparently never, ever, threw anything away. (Fedyor is too scared to ask if she actually died in this apartment and her mummified corpse is lurking at the bottom of all the junk.) That is why he and Ivan were able to afford it, at least, but now that the weather is warmer, they have been spending all day cleaning, hauling boxes of crap to the dumpster, and trying in vain to get the smell of pickled cabbage out of the kitchen. It looks exactly like your Great Aunt Masha’s house, the one that traumatized you as a child and has never left your nightmares since. Home sweet home.

The upside is that the location is great, the apartment is surprisingly spacious and lovely – a big bedroom, a bathroom with two sinks and a deep claw-footed tub, a living room with high windows that let in lots of light, original crown molding and hardwood floors – and if it was located in the really chic parts of Brooklyn and inhabited by a tech-startup hipster rather than a Russian émigré spinster with definite hoarding tendencies, it would rent for some astronomical monthly sum. Fedyor has a three-ring binder full of paint swatches, sketches, furniture samples, and other plans to give it a total overhaul (he’s thinking a nice pale green for the living room?) But the one thing that spring definitely means is Eurovision, and it is just the ticket to relax from their grueling schedule of throwing boxes of junk away and hoping they don’t stumble upon a withered hand in a glass jar. He likes America and he’s excited for their new life, for all that they had no choice but to leave Russia in a hurry, but Eurovision is Eurovision.

Actually watching it, of course, is easier said than done. For one thing, Fedyor can’t find a blasted station that is airing it, when he could have just switched on the TV and found it right away back home. For another, Ivan is deeply dubious of the whole endeavor, having watched five minutes of it once when he was eighteen and turning it off in disgust, never to return. Fedyor spends a lot of time wheedling him to give it another chance. “Come on, Vanya. It’s fun!”

“It is a lot of homosexuals gyrating in leather to very bad music,” Ivan snaps. “They look ridiculous. And sound even worse.”

Fedyor glances at them – the fact that they’re sitting on the couch, he’s on Ivan’s lap with his legs draped over Ivan’s thigh, and Ivan’s arms wrapped around his waist – and coughs. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, darling,” he says, “but you are also a homosexual.”

“Maybe, but you would never catch me dead up there.”

“Of course not.” Fedyor rolls his eyes. “You might actually have to smile.”

Ivan makes a scoffing noise. Then he notices the full-on puppy-dog face that Fedyor is now giving him, and says, “Oh no. Oh no, Fedya. Do not look at me like that.”

“Why not?” Fedyor shamelessly snuggles closer. “Is it working?”

The predictable outcome is that Ivan grudgingly agrees to watch it with him, though they’re on American time now and Eurovision Song Contest 2014, held in Copenhagen, Denmark, is six hours ahead of them. Ivan thinks that it’s stupid to sit down and watch a lot of gyrating homosexuals in the middle of the day, when there’s still so much work to do, and tries to demand that they just watch the recording later. Fedyor says this is nonsense, you simply cannot watch a recording of Eurovision, and after a lot of investigation, finds the online streaming channel on his laptop and hooks it up to the TV so they can watch it there. Then he prepares his popcorn, his alcoholic beverages, and his glitter glasses, corrals his recalcitrant husband, and readies himself to experience pure joy. No wonder Ivan doesn’t get it.

However, the effect is both swift and remarkable. By the end of the first semi-final, Ivan is put out about the fact that Russia came seventh in the popular vote but was knocked down to eleven by the jury (this is evidence of an anti-Russian conspiracy, according to him) and when only Moldova, a tiny no-name non-EU former Soviet state, deigns to award them the full twelve points, he is openly incredulous. “Moldova?! That is all we get?! MOLDOVA?!”

“Well,” Fedyor says delicately. “There is that little situation in Ukraine, so I’m afraid we are not that popular right now.”

“That is bullshit,” Ivan grouses. “This is a song contest. The Tolmachevy Sisters are not Vladimir Putin. I am sure they have worked very hard to be here.”

Fedyor glances at him and wisely decides not to say anything. He is likewise a little peeved when the Russian contestants get booed by the Danish audience, but Ivan looks like he’s about to leap through the screen and throttle every single one of them. He thrusts out a hand. “Give me a drink, Fedya. I need it to suffer this indignity.”

Fedyor cracks the lid off a cold one and hands it over – there is the Brighton Bazaar just a few blocks away, stocked with Russian goods, so they are spared the ordeal of drinking Yankee beer – and Ivan takes a long slug. He thinks they can skip watching the second semi-final two nights later, since Russia isn’t in it, but Fedyor puts it on anyway. They both like Austria and “Rise Like a Phoenix,” sung by the bearded drag queen Conchita Wurst (there have been a few dumb comments about her from the usual suspects), but Ivan hits a fist on the arm of the sofa. “She was not better than the Russian girls,” he says loyally. “I still think that they should be the ones to win.”

“Right, well,” Fedyor says. “I think the only ones less likely to win are the Brits, and they never win, so we might be waiting a while.”

The grand finale, on May tenth, is an inadvertently hysterical exercise. They get up early and put on the pregame show, like the Americans do with their bewildering fixation on the Super Bowl, and Ivan gets even more furious when the Tolmachevy Sisters are booed again. “Are they not supposed to love everyone at this glitter bacchanalia? So much for the Scandinavians being tolerant and accepting people! The song is nice! They are nice girls! What is wrong with them?!”

“Come over here and give me a cuddle, Vanya,” Fedyor suggests. “Otherwise you will blow a blood vessel long before the show starts.”

Ivan growls like an escaped tiger from the zoo, but consents to sit down next to Fedyor. They both drink copiously once the festivities get underway, singing along loudly (and not that melodiously) to the various entries, Fedyor’s arm draped around Ivan’s neck as he sits on his lap and critically judges the acts before the official results pop up. Once again, the only twelve-point awards Russia gets are from former Soviet countries (Azerbaijan and Belarus) and Ivan looks like he’s going to have a conniption before Fedyor kisses him and he gets distracted for the next three minutes. “This is disgraceful,” he mutters, when they break away. “Not you, Fedya. Just the horrible way they have clearly rigged this show against us.”

“You know,” Fedyor says. “That’s Eurovision. You declare war on your neighbors when they don’t give you twelve points. Now they have the EU, they’re not supposed to fight anymore, this is the only way they can get all those old rivalries out. Just be glad that Australia isn’t in this year. You might have really blown a gasket.”

“Australia?!” Ivan shifts Fedyor to a more comfortable position on his lap and grabs for his third bottle of beer. “AUSTRALIA IS NOT IN EUROPE! It is not even anywhere NEAR Europe! WHY DOES AUSTRALIA GET TO BE IN EUROVISION!?!”

Fedyor laughs out loud. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Ivan says. “But this is still the stupidest thing I have ever seen.”

“Shh.” Fedyor nuzzles him. “Just give in, Vanya. Just give in.”

Ivan consents to turn his grumbling down to a simmer, and is somewhat mollified that Russia comes in sixth overall, which is better than even Fedyor thought they were going to do. Austria takes the champion’s crown, they can both agree that Conchita Wurst deserves it, and get up and dance around their still-junk-cluttered living room as she gives her bravissima performance. A few things have been thrown during the judging, but they can’t add much to the existing mess, and in Brighton Beach, “damage caused to the apartment because Russia got shafted during Eurovision finals” might actually be a legitimate excuse. As he leans against Ivan’s chest and grins into his neck, Fedyor has to admit that this place may just feel like home yet.

[popculty]

52 Films by Women: 2020 Edition

Another annual challenge complete!

Last year, I focused on diversifying my list. This year I kept that intention but focused on watching more non-American films and films from the 20th century. Specifically, I sought out Agnès Varda’s entire filmography, after her death in 2019. (I was not disappointed - What a filmmaking legend we lost.) 

I also kept a film log for the first time and have included some of my thoughts on several films from that log. I made a point of including reviews both positive and negative, because I think it’s important to acknowledge the variability and breadth of the canon, so as not to put every film directed by a woman on a pedestal. (Although movies directed by women must clear a much higher bar to be greenlit, meaning generally higher quality...But that’s an essay for another day :)

* = directed by a woman of color

bold = fave

1. The Rhythm Section (2020) dir. Reed Morano - Not as good as it could have been, given Morano’s proven skill behind the camera, but also not nearly as bad as the critics made it out to be. And unbelievably refreshing to see a female revenge story not driven by sexual assault or the loss of a husband/child.

2. Cléo de 5 à 7 (1962) dir. Agnès Varda - If you ever wanted to take a real-time tour of Paris circa 1960, this is the film for you.

3. Little Women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig - Still my favorite Little Women adaptation. I will re-watch it every year and cry.

4. Varda by Agnès (2019) dir. Agnès Varda & Didier Rouget

5. Booksmart (2019) dir. Olivia Wilde - An instant classic high school comedy romp that subverts all the gross tropes of its 1980s predecessors.

6. Girls of the Sun (2018) dir. Eva Husson

7. Blue My Mind (2017) dir. Lisa Brühlmann

8. Portrait of a Lady On Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma - Believe the hype. This film is a master thesis on the female gaze, and also just really effing gorgeous.

9. Belle Epine (2010) dir. Rebecca Zlotowski

10. Vamps (2012) dir. Amy Heckerling - With Krysten Ritter and Alicia Silverstone as modern-day vampires, I was so ready for this movie. But it feels like a bad stage play or a sit-com that’s missing a laugh-track. Bummer.

11. *Birds of Prey (2020) dir. Cathy Yan - Where has this movie been all our lives?? Skip the next onslaught of Snyder-verse grim-darkery and give me two more of these STAT! 

12. She’s Missing (2019) dir. Alexandra McGuinness

13. The Mustang (2019) dir. Laure de Clermont-Tonnere - Trigger warning for the “protagonist” repeatedly punching a horse in the chest. I noped right out of there.

14. Monster (2003) dir. Patty Jenkins – I first watched this movie when I was probably too young and haven’t revisited it since. The rape scene traumatized me as a kid, but as an adult I appreciate how that trauma is not the center of the movie, or even of Aileen’s life. Everyone still talks about how Charlize “went ugly” for this role, but the biggest transformation here isn’t aesthetic, it’s physical – the way Theron replicates Wuernos’ mannerisms, way of speaking, and physicality. That’s why she won the Oscar. I also love that Jenkins calls the film “Monster” (which everyone labels Aileen), but then actually uses it to tell the story of how she fell in love with a woman when she was at her lowest, and that saved her. That’s kind of beautiful, and I’m glad I re-watched it so that I could see the story in that light, instead of the general memory I had of it being a good, feel-bad movie. It’s so much more than that.

15. Water Lilies (2007) dir. Céline Sciamma – Sciamma’s screenwriting and directorial debut, the first in her trilogy on youth, is as painfully beautiful as its sequels (Tomboy and Girlhood). It’s also one of the rare films that explores the overlap of queerness and girl friendships.

16. The Trouble with Angels (1966) dir. Ida Lupino – Movies about shenanigan-based female friendships are such rare delights. Rosalind Russel is divine as Mother Superior, and Hayley Mills as “scathingly brilliant” as the pranks she plays on her. Ida Lupino’s skill as an editor only enhances her directing, providing some truly iconic visual gags to complement dialogue snappy enough for Gilmore Girls. 

17. Vagabond (1985) dir. Agnès Varda – Shot with a haunting realism, this film has no qualms about its heroine’s inevitable, unceremonious death, which it opens with, matter-of-factly, before retracing her final (literal) steps to the road-side ditch she ends up in. (I’m partly convinced said heroine was the inspiration for Sarah Manning in Orphan Black.)

18. One Sings, The Other Doesn’t (1977) dir. Agnès Varda – Probably my favorite classic Varda, this film feels incredibly personal. It’s essentially a love story about two best friends with very different lives. For an indie made in the ‘70s, the diversity, scope, and themes of the film are impressive. Even if the second half a drags a bit, the first half is absolute perfection, engaging the viewer immediately, and clipping along, sprinkling in some great original songs that were way progressive for their time (about abortion, female bodily autonomy, etc) and could still be considered “bangers” today.

19. Emma (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde

20. Black Panthers (1969) dir. Agnès Varda

21. Into the Forest (2016) dir. Patricia Rozema - When the world was ending (i.e. the pandemic hit) this was the first movie I turned to - a quiet, meditative story of two sisters (Elliot Page and Evan Rachel Wood) surviving off the land after a sudden global blackout. Four years later, it’s still one of my favorite book-to-screen adaptations. I fondly remember speaking with director Patricia Rozema at the 2016 Chicago Critics Film Festival after a screening, her love for the source material and desire to “get it right” so apparent. I assured her then, and reaffirm now, that she really did.

22. City of Trees (2019) dir. Alexandra Swarens

23. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (2020) dir. Eliza Hittmann - To call this a harrowing and deeply personal journey of a sixteen-year-old who must cross state lines to get an abortion would be accurate, but incomplete. It is a story so much bigger than that, about the myriad ways women’s bodies and boundaries are constantly violated.

24. Paradise Hills (2019) dir. Alice Waddington

25. *Eve’s Bayou (1996) dir. Kasi Lemmons – I’ve been meaning to watch Kasi Lemmons’ directorial debut for many years now, and I’m so glad I finally have, because it fully deserves its icon status, beyond being one of the first major films directed by a black woman. Baby Jurnee Smollett's talent was immediately recognizable, and she has reminded us of it in Birds of Prey and Lovecraft Country this year. If merit was genuinely a factor for Oscar contenders, she would have taken home gold at eleven years old. Beasts of the Southern Wild has been one of my all-time favorites, but now I realize that most of my appreciation for that movie actually goes to Lemmons for blazing the trail with her story of a young black girl from the bayou first. It’s also a surprisingly dark story about memory and abuse and familial relationships that cross lines - really gutsy and surprising themes, especially for the ‘90s.

26. Blow the Man Down (2019) dir. Bridget Savage Cole & Danielle Krudy - Come and get your sea shanty fix!

27. Touchy Feely (2013) dir. Lynn Shelton - R.I.P. :(

28. Hannah Gadsby: Douglas (2020) dir. Madeleine Parry - If you thought Gadsby couldn’t follow up 2018′s sensational Nanette with a comedy special just as sharp and hilarious, you would have been sorely mistaken.

29. Girlhood (2013) dir. Céline Sciamma

30. Breathe (2014) dir. Mélanie Laurent

31. *A Dry White Season (1989) dir. Euzhan Palcy

32. Laggies (2014) dir. Lynn Shelton

33. *The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood – Everything I’ve ever wanted in an action movie: Immortal gays, Charlize Theron wielding a labrys (battle axe), kinetic fight choreography I haven’t seen since the last Bond movie…Watched it twice, then devoured the comics it was adapted from, and I gotta say: in the hands of black women, it eclipses the source material. Cannot wait for the just-announced sequel.

34. Morvern Callar (2002) dir. Lynn Ramsay

35. Shirley (2020) dir. Josephine Decker

36. *Radioactive (2019) dir. Marjane Satrapi – The story is obviously well worth telling and the narrative structure – weaving in the future consequences of Curie’s discoveries – is clever, but a bit awkwardly executed and overly manipulative. There are glimpses of real brilliance throughout, but it feels as if the director’s vision was not fully realized, to my great disappointment. Nonetheless, I appreciated seeing Marie Curie's story being told by a female director and embodied by the always wonderful Rosamund Pike.

37. *The Half of It (2020) dir. Alice Wu - I feel like a real scrooge for saying this, but this movie did nothing for me. Nothing about it felt fresh, authentic or relatable. A real disappointment from the filmmaker behind the wlw classic Saving Face.

38. Mouthpiece (2018) dir. Patricia Rozema - I am absolutely floored. One of those films that makes you fall in love with the art form all over again. Patricia Rozema continues to prove herself one of the most creatively ambitious and insightful directors of our time, with this melancholic meditation on maternal grief and a woman’s duality.

39. Summerland (2020) dir. Jessica Swale - The rare period wlw love story that is not a) all-white or b) tragedy porn. Just lovely.

40. *The Last Thing He Wanted (2020) dir. Dee Rees – As rumored, a mess. Even by the end, I still couldn’t tell you who any of the characters are. Dee, we know you’re so much better than this! (see: Mudbound, Pariah)

41. *Cuties (2020) dir. Maïmouna Doucouré – I watched this film to 1) support a black woman director who has been getting death threats for her work and 2) see what all the fuss is about. While I do think there were possibly some directorial choices that could have saved quite a bit of the pearl-clutching, overall, I didn’t find it overly-exploitative or gross, as many (who obviously haven’t actually watched the film) have labeled it. It certainly does give me pause, though, and makes me wonder whether children can ever be put in front of a camera without it exploiting or causing harm to them in some way. It also makes one consider the blurry line between being a critique versus being an example. File this one under complicated, for sure.

42. A Call to Spy (2019) Lydia Dean Pilcher – An incredible true story of female spies during WWII that perfectly satisfied my itch for British period drama/spy thriller and taught me so much herstory I didn’t know.

43. Kajillionaire (2020) dir. Miranda July - I was lucky enough to attend the (virtual) premiere of this film, followed by an insightful cast/director Q&A, which only made me appreciate it more. July's offbeat dark comedy about a family of con artists is queerer and more heartfelt than it has any right to be, and a needed reprieve in a year of almost entirely white wlw stories. The family's shenanigans are the hook, but it's the budding relationship between Old Dolio (an almost unrecognizable Evan Rachel Wood) and aspiring grifter Melanie (the luminous Gina Rodriguez) that is the heart of the story.

44. Misbehaviour (2020) dir. Philippa Lowthorpe – Again, teaching me herstory I didn’t know, about how the Women’s Liberation Movement stormed the 1970 Miss World Pageant. Keira Knightley and Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s characters have a conversation in a bathroom at the end of the film that perfectly eviscerates well-meaning yet ignorant white feminism, without ever pitting women against each other - a feat I didn’t think was possible. I also didn’t think it was possible to critique the male gaze without showing it (*ahem Cuties, Bombshell, etc*), but this again, invents a way to do it. Bless women directors.

45. *All In: The Fight for Democracy (2020) dir. Liz Garbus and Lisa Cortes – 2020’s 13th. Thank god for Stacey Abrams, that is all.

46. *The 40-Year-Old Version (2020) dir. Radha Blank – This scene right here? I felt that in my soul. This whole film is so good and funny and heartfelt and relatable to any artist trying to walk that tightrope of “making it” while not selling their soul to make it. My only initial semi-note was that it’s a little long, but after hearing Radha Blank talk about how she fought for the two-hour run-time as a way of reclaiming space for older black women, I take it back. She’s right: Let black women take up space. Let her movie be as long as she wants it to be. GOOD FOR HER.

47. Happiest Season (2020) dir. Clea Duvall - Hoooo boy. What was marketed as the first lesbian Christmas rom-com is actually a horror movie for anyone who’s ever had to come out. Throw in casual racism and a toxic relationship treated as otp, and it’s YIKES on so many levels. Aubrey Plaza, Dan Levy, and an autistic-coded Jane are the only (underused) highlights.

48. *Monkey Beach (2020) dir. Loretta Todd

49. *Little Chief (2020) dir. Erica Tremblay – A short film part of the 2020 Red Nation Film Festival, it’s a perfect eleven minutes that I wish had gone on longer, if only to bask in Lily Gladstone in a leading role.

50. First Cow (2019) dir. Kelly Reichardt – I know Kelly Reichardt’s style, so I’ll admit-- even as I was preparing for an excellent film, I was also reaching for my phone, planning on only half paying attention during all the inevitable 30-second shots of grass blowing in the wind. (And yes, there are plenty of those.) But twenty minutes in, my phone was set aside and forgotten, as I am getting sucked into this beautiful story about two frontiersman trying to live their best domestic life.There is only one word to describe this film and that is: PURE. I’ve never seen such a tender platonic relationship between men on screen before, and it’s not lost on me that it took a woman to show us that tenderness. Reichardt gives us two men brought together by fate, and kept together by a shared dream and the simple pleasure of not being alone in such a hard world; two men who spend their days cooking, trapping, baking, and dreaming of a better life; two men who don’t say much, but feel everything for each other. The world would be a much better place if men showed us this kind of vulnerability and friendship toward each other. Oh, and it’s also a brutal take-down of capitalism and the myth of the American Dream!

51. Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) dir. Patty Jenkins - My most-anticipated film for the past two years was...well, a mixed bag, to say the least. Too many thoughts on it for a blog post, so stay tuned for the upcoming podcast ep where we go all in ;)

52. *Selah and the Spades (2019) dir. Tayarisha Poe

I hope this gives you some ideas to kick off your new year with a resolution to support more female directors!

What were your favorite women-directed movies of last year? Let me know in the tags, comments, or asks!

[missnight0wl]

Wayward Son

I finally succumbed and wrote an AU fanfic where Jacob dies. It focuses on a few moments between the siblings over the years after the Cursed Vaults. And to be fair, death aspect aside, most of it is basically canon for their relationship.

And yes, the title is a reference to the song by Kansas because it does make me think of Jacob.

Words: 5560

Autumn, 1991

When Helena declared that she wanted to stay longer at home after her graduation, her parents seemed to take it as an obvious decision. Physically, she was completely well even before September. She wasn’t going to waste it, so she started helping at the grandparents’ bakery. Mentally, however… She still needed to heal. And they all needed some time together.

Jacob stayed at home as well. He insisted that he wanted to pass his N.E.W.T.s, and with some help from Dumbledore, he managed to get permission to take exams in June next year without going back to school. He was studying a bit, but usually, he was spending his days similar to his sister: trying to find his place. It had to be more difficult for him because of his absence. Some things had changed their place at the house, people had altered some of their customs. He got new habits too. For their mother, it was especially hard to accept his smoking. Nevertheless, they were surviving, learning each other anew. Helena liked in particular when they were catching up on all pop culture Jacob had missed. It felt familiar, almost like childhood. Almost like it could be normal again.

The days weren’t the worst with all their distractions. When the nights fell, though, it meant either sleepless hours or endless nightmares. If Helena woke up with a scream, Jacob would always run into her room, sitting on her bed and cradling her.

“Shhh. It’s okay, you’re safe,” he’d say, stroking her hair. “I’m here, I’m finally here. It’s just a dream…”

But it hardly was just a dream. Usually, it was her memories - and Jacob knew that.

“Will you sing to me?” she asked quietly once when she calmed down.

He chuckled softly. “Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Please?”

He sighed, left without a choice. They both got more comfortable on the bed, although Jacob was probably too tall for that. He cleared his throat, yet his voice was rather raspy when he began. It didn’t occur to her that he probably hadn’t sung in ages. Still, it quickly turned into a sound she remembered from years ago. Only before the last verse, he made a longer pause.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please, don’t take my sunshine away.

Spring, 1992

They were sitting at the table, and she was sceptically watching him staring at his books.

“You don’t need it, Jacob.”

He glanced at her before starting to browse pages. “But I want it.”

“Then why you’re just pretending that you’re studying?”

He cracked a smile, already knowing where she’s going with that. “Because I know most of those things.”

“See? Then you don’t need it.” She leant back in her chair. “Admit it, you’re just stalling before moving on.”

“Fine, maybe a little,” he replied, finally looking at her again.

She shook her head and sighed. “Bill should be here any moment now. I’ll go get my things.”

She left the room and went upstairs. She’d packed most of her belonging, but she still wanted to double-check everything. Besides, it’d take her mind off Jacob for a while. She was a little worried about him, but she didn’t want to nudge him. It was always hard to recognise if he was going through something because he was great at redirecting people’s attention, but it wasn’t even about him suppressing his emotions. It seemed like he was trying to get back the stolen time and feared that leaving would make it lost forever. As a result, he was stuck. He was offered a job at Gringotts with Helena, but he refused, making excuses about his exams. She wanted to do more for him, but she was ready for the next step, and she felt that if she wouldn’t take it, she’d got stuck as well.

She gathered her luggage and was about to get back to the living room when she heard Jacob and Bill talking.

“You sure you don’t want anything? Tea, water?”

“No, thanks.”

There was a moment of silence before Jacob spoke again. “You know, I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For being a brother to her. When I failed--”

“Don’t,” Bill tried to interrupt him.

“No, I mean it. Thank you for taking care of her.” He took a deep breath before continuing, more tentatively. “It’s weird to think that you probably know her better than I ever could...”

Another pause preceded Bill asking: “What was she like as a child?”

“Oh.” Jacob got surprised by that question, but when he started to talk, Helena could almost hear him smiling. “She was like sunshine. Brightening your day and pissing off when she shone straight into your eyes. I suppose you know how it can be with younger siblings.” Bill laughed, and Jacob went on. “She… she was so curious about everything. They say there’s a certain age when kids won’t stop asking questions, but for Helena it was permanent. And she always had to defend everyone. Y’know, when Snape started teaching us, I complained about him back home, and she was like: you can’t say that, you don’t know him.” He modified his tone slightly to imitate her. “Maybe he has problems. You’re sometimes mean when you’re upset, too, but you’re a good person.”

They both chuckled.

“Well, she did change her mind on Snape, I can tell you that,” said Bill. “But other than that, sounds pretty much like Helena I know. Give her some time, Jacob. Give yourself time.”

The silence between them was longer now, so Helena took a few steps back to get some natural speed and pushed the door open. Two wizards were standing opposite each other and got startled when she entered.

“I thought I hear you,” she grinned at Bill. “What are you two plotting here, hm?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” the redhead replied with an innocent expression.

“Just gossiping about you,” Jacob added casually.

She gave them a suspicious stare. “Is that so?” She’d love to tease them, but they had to arrive with Bill at the appointed hour, so she glanced at her watch instead and then at her friend. “All right, I think I’m ready. We can get going.”

“You sure you have everything?” asked Jacob. Their parents said their goodbyes in the morning before leaving to work, so he took the responsibility of sending Helena off. “Mum left you package in the kitchen, did you take it? Do you have sunglasses? The cooler ones? What about sun cream?”

“I have everything,” she stopped his babbling with a hug.

“Be careful there, okay?”

She tightened her embrace in respond, feeling his ribs against her body. He still didn’t put on much weight.

Winter, 1994

Dear Jacob,

What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming? It’s Dad’s sixtieth birthday. SIXTIETH. You have to come. I don’t care what other plans you have - you knew about that day. Tell that pretty girl (or whatever you’re busy with nowadays) that you have responsibilities at home.

Seriously though, I know that you want to be here too, so… Please, try to make it.

Love you always,

- Ellie

“I can’t believe he didn’t come.”

“It’s all right, Ellie,” said Christopher. “I’m sure something just came up. He can visit us at the weekend.”

“Something came up? On your birthday?” Helena spat. “You know, but it’s not even that. He could’ve just let us know, say anything. It’s hard for all of us, but why he shouldn’t be trying too?”

Alice gave her a stern look. “Well, now you’re just picking on him.”

“I’m not! Mum, you got him a job at the Ministry. A good job. And what did he do? He quit--”

“That job was a bad idea from the beginning. You’d probably quit as well.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

Alice only smiled softly. “You’re really not that different. Believe me, I know.”

The truth was that Helena was picking on Jacob. She indeed had no reasons to be mad at him, other than him not showing up on that specific day. He did quit his job, that part was accurate. But while she was certain that he’s getting in all sorts of troubles ever since, he never caused problems for them. He always appeared when his help was needed, during holidays or not. On top of that, Helena caught him a couple of times hiding money in places like a sugar bowl since their parents wouldn’t simply take it from him. But all of that made the current situation only worse. In the best-case scenario, it meant that he’s not telling her something big enough to stop him without giving any explanation. He could also be hurt, kidnapped, or worse…

“All I’m saying is that he has no excuse. Even if he’s too drunk or high to Apparate, he could’ve used stupid Floo Network or--”

And then, just like on command, the emerald green flames appeared in the fireplace, and Jacob entered the room, appearing quite confused.

“Did I make it?” he asked nobody in particular. He beamed when he looked at the clock. It was half-past eleven. He faced Christopher, spreading his arms wide. “Happy birthday, old chap.”

Over the whole day, the birthday man was trying to act unaffected by Jacob’s absence. Yet, he obviously got happier seeing his son.

“I’m so, so sorry that I’m late,” Jacob continued, not breaking their hug. “But! I do have an explanation!”

Helena rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Still, she got curious when he reached to his bag and took out a package covered in brown paper.

“I’ve found a lead for that a while ago, however, a bloke who was supposed to get it for me had some problems, and… let’s say he needed a reminder. Anyway, it created a delay, and long story short, I couldn’t risk not getting it at all after all the effort, so… That happened. And I’m really sorry once again, I should’ve known better from the beginning. But! At least I got some wine!”

When Christopher started to unwrap the gift, Jacob hurried to welcome both Alice and Helena.

“Oh my, is it the first edition?” Christopher was already holding an old book in his hands, studying the front page, his eyes twinkling.

“One of the first ones,” clarified Jacob. “But it has notes made by a professor from Uagadou.”

The old man looked at him excited before carefully browsing a couple of pages. “Oh, I have to compare it with my atlas. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room, patting Jacob on a shoulder while passing by. When he was gone, Alice looked attentively at her son.

“And I wonder how much did it cost you?”

Jacob shrugged and smirked. “A lovely dinner with my family.” He opened his bag again, pulling out two bottles of wine. “Did everyone leave already?”

“They did, not long before you came,” Alice replied softly.

To break the silence, Helena grabbed one of the bottles. “What about that wine? It looks fancy.”

“It is quite fancy. But this one is for Dad, and for Mum. We have the other one.” She looked at the other label and frowned her nose. “It’s the cheapest one they had, and it tastes like acid.” Jacob was clearly amused by his sister’s reaction.

Alice got up. “I’ll go bring some glasses then, how about that?” Then, she also left, letting the siblings stay alone.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Jacob asked finally.

“I thought we agreed to no secrets.”

This time it was him who rolled his eyes. “It’s no secret! I just wanted it to be a surprise!”

“Still, you could’ve told me! I’d cover for you!”

He was quiet for a moment, pondering on his words. A corner of his lips twitched faintly. “You know you’re terrible at surprises, Ellie.”

“That’s not true!” she said reproachfully. He only raised his eyebrow. “Oh, because I’d go to Dad and tell him everything, right?”

“No, but you’d tell Mum, and she’s no better than you.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Then, not thinking much, she opened the cheaper bottle and took a sip. She grimaced, regretting her decision immediately.

“I warned you it tastes like acid.” He was trying very hard to hold a laugh. “It gets somewhat better the more you drink.”

All four of them were sitting and talking until the late night, so by the time Helena woke up the next day, it was already noon. She got down to the kitchen where she found an unfinished bottle of wine as it turned out that Jacob brought bigger supplies with him. She took a clean glass and poured some liquor when her brother showed up out of nowhere and snatched it out of her hand.

“Ah ah ah, what do you think you’re doing?” he teased her.

She sighed. “I’m having a drink.”

“No, you’re not, young lady.”

“Jacob, I’m twenty-one. If I want to have a drink, you’re not gonna stop me.”

“I don’t care how old you are. It’s only past twelve.”

She gave him a stink eye because he was holding two glasses at the moment: hers and his own. “I’m guessing it’s your third one, you hypocrite.”

He seemed a bit perplexed for an instant, but then he grinned. “Only the second.” Still, he put both glasses on the side when Helena started brewing coffee.

“So, what you’re planning now?” she asked and covered a yawn.

“Like today or in general?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he started. “I wanted to visit grandparents’ today. That’s probably most of the day. And in general, I thought I could stay with you for a little.”

“Oh! But… I’m getting back to work.”

“I know. I wouldn’t bother you, I can get busy on my own or help you, whichever you prefer. And in the evenings, we could do something fun. What d’you say?”

Every now and then, Jacob would stop by whenever she was currently at her curse-breaking mission. However, he never stayed for long. They’d usually get out once, and after making sure she’s alright, he’d disappear. Spending more time together could be nice.

“Sure, sounds good,” she replied with a smile, filling two mugs with coffee.

Summer, 1995

Jacob was pacing between walls, running his fingers through his hair once in a while.

“We should leave,” he said eventually, stopping and crossing his arms.

Helena looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“We should leave. I don’t know, to the States or whatever.”

“There’s a war coming, and you want to leave?”

“Yeah, exactly. You’re not gonna tell me it’s not a better solution than becoming Dumbledore’s soldier.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, not being able to find the words. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Jacob, innocent people will be dying!”

“I know! You think I don’t?!” He started losing control over his voice. “But there are people ready to fight for them, and we don’t have to be among them! Even if Voldemort is back, he never got beyond Great Britain, so there’s no reason to think it’d be different any time soon. We’d be safe across the ocean.”

“How can you be so selfish?”

“I’m selfish?!” He made a sound between a gasp and a snigger, but when he spoke again, he was more steady. “Ellie, who helped you with the Cursed Vaults? Dumbledore? Who cared when we had to stop R which was, let me remind you, an international threat?”

“Oh, so that’s why we should do nothing now? Because that’s how we were treated? Do you hear yourself?! An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind, Jacob, and passiveness can be as bad as violence! There will be more wizards thinking like you, but if we all leave, who’ll stay to fight?”

He wasn’t looking at her, and he switched to almost a whisper. “I was never selfish in my life. Never selfish enough to let the adults deal with all the cursed mess, as they should. Though, you know? Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to feel useful, fucking protector of everyone.” He sighed. “But you know where it got me? My best friend died when he was just fifteen, I had to leave my family, and I was imprisoned for years by R. Ellie, I…” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just for once, I don’t want to worry about people being in danger. If it’s selfish of me, so be it.” Their eyes finally met. “I don’t care. I just want some peace.”

“Well, that’s not how life works.”

She left, not giving him a chance to reply.

The rest of the day, she spent with some of her friends, learning more about the whole situation connected to Voldemort’s return. The first shock - caused also by Cedric’s death - had passed, and they had to focus on planning. Still, Helena kept going back in thoughts to Jacob. She probably was too harsh on him. She saw where he’s coming from. In fact, sending their parents off to the family in the States wasn’t a bad idea at all. She came home late, so she went straight to her bedroom to think things over.

The next morning, however, it was neither Christopher nor Alice who she found in the kitchen – it was Jacob.

“What you’re doing here?”

“Breakfast,” he replied blandly.

“No, I mean, I thought you’d just leave after yesterday.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on everything when you’re in Egypt, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t tell you I’m going back there…”

“Yeah, well.”

He was chopping some vegetables while eggs were frying on a pan. There’s a joking rule in their family that you could use magic in the kitchen only if you’d learnt to make the dish also without it. Jacob always preferred to prepare things Muggle way, though. Helena could never match him, even with the help of the spells.

“Thank you,” she said abashedly, sitting at the kitchen island.

“For what? Food’s not ready.”

“For joining our side.”

“No, my dear. Let’s make it clear,” he spoke firmly, involuntarily pointing a knife in her direction. “I’m on no one’s side but yours. Got it?”

“So… you’re not joining the Order?”

“Hell no.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” she repeated. “And I’m sorry. For yesterday. I don’t think you’re selfish at all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He still sounded a bit coldly, but he smirked ever so slightly. “Just…” His voice got softer as he knitted his brows in a worried expression. “I beg you, Ellie, be smart. Just because you’ll be outside Europe doesn’t mean it’ll be safe. It’ll be hell everywhere. And above all, remember: no information is worth dying for.”

“I know, I know…” She reassured him, though it felt like there’s not much she could say. “So, what are you planning to do?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Maybe I could renew some connections in Knockturn Alley.”

“Oh, because that sounds very safe.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he cut in. “I’m aware of that. And that was my point. If you get involved, it’ll always be dangerous. But because you’re too stubborn to listen, I can’t simply… sit and watch, y’know. I don’t want to hear from some strangers one day: Hey, remember that cursed siblings? Yeah, the younger one just died. She was killed by fucking Death Eaters because she refused to learn from her brother’s mistakes. And he screwed up again because he could’ve done something.”

She bit her lips to hide a smile. Jacob only glanced at her, shaking his head with feigned disapproval before he focused back at his cooking.

May 1998

It was getting crowded at the Hog’s Head when Helena spotted Jacob near the door waving his hand at her. She immediately rushed to him.

“Jacob! You came!”

He frowned in confusion. “Of course. I told you so.”

“I guess part of me wanted you to not come…”

“Do you really think I’d let you go into a battle alone?” he asked raising his eyebrow.

“I’m not alone,” she replied, mindlessly pulling his flannel. “And you don’t want to be here.”

“And I don’t want you to be here either. But I know I won’t convince you to leave because Charlie’s here. And he’s here because his whole family is here. And I’m definitely not gonna discuss with all the Weasleys because it’d be both pointless and possibly stupid.” His smile faded away when Helena didn’t even react to his joke. “Hey, we faced worse before, didn’t we? At least we’re not the main target for a change, right?”

She nodded haltingly as Jacob embraced her with one arm, leading away from the entrance.

By the time they arrived at Hogwarts, the battle was raging. It was overwhelming chaos with troops of people storming to the castle. Helena was keeping both Charlie and Jacob in the reach of her sight, but as they were in the Entrance Hall, one scream caught their attention among all the noises.

“Fire! There’s a fire!” yelled someone.

“Then put it down!” they heard in a respond.

“I can’t! They had to cast Fiendfyre!”

Three of them froze. If it actually was the curse, there’s no way students could deal with it, and it’d be bad to let it spread. On the other hand, it could’ve been regular fire, looking more dangerous due to fear and panic.

“I’ll go check it,” decided Jacob. “We’ll meet in the Great Hall. Look after her, okay?” he added, smirking at Charlie.

Helena briefly squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”

In the next moment, Jacob was running up the staircase while Helena and Charlie joined the crowd moving to the Great Hall where most of the fighting was occurring. It seemed like they’re gaining the advantage over Death Eaters, but it was still heated, and spells were shooting from all sides. Helena had just helped some girls counter an attack and was looking for Charlie when she felt a sudden sharp headache. For a split second, her vision went black, which was enough distraction to not notice a beam of light speeding in her direction. She tried to dodge it, but it was too late, and the spell grazed her side, causing her to fall.

“Nell!” Charlie appeared almost out of nowhere and kneeled next to her. “Are you all right? Talk to me…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she hurried to calm him down, though she grimaced with pain.

Charlie quickly checked the spot where she was hit. Her blouse was torn, revealing red skin, but there was no wound. “Come on, let’s take you from here.”

He helped her get up and led her to the edges of the room where he spotted Ben Copper tending to two students.

“Ben! We need you!”

The Healer hearing his name turned his head to them. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” replied Helena. “I can--”

“No, you have to rest at least,” Charlie cut in. “Keep an eye on her, Ben.”

He deflected one more spell and run back into the fight. Ben in the meantime tried to examine her, but she gently pushed him away.

“It’s nothing, really. There’s no time for that.”

She was calm but determined, so Ben didn’t push. “All right, but you’re not going back there. I need some cover when I take care of those two.”

He pointed to a Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy behind them, both visibly scared. Helena nodded and took her position. Everyone’s attention seemed to concentrate towards the centre of the Great Hall, so they weren’t being attacked directly, but stray curses almost hit them a couple of times. Helena also managed to stop some Death Eaters, whether from escaping or assaulting the others.

Suddenly, the shouting in the middle became louder, and the whole atmosphere got more tense. Helena was too far to tell what’s it about exactly, though - until almost all went silent. She exchanged questioning looks with Ben.

“Go, see what’s happening,” he told her.

When she finally broke into the crowd, she realised that everyone was paralysed because of the encounter within the circle. The Boy Who Lived was facing the Dark Lord. She tensely watched them moving in constant distance between them, looking ready to attack. She listened to the story of the Elder Wand, of the big intrigue behind that war.  And then, with just one hit from both sides, it was over. Voldemort was dead.

The joyful cheering exploded around her. Everyone was trying to reach Harry Potter now, pushing her in that direction. But she needed to find someone else. She was scanning people in search of familiar faces to finally pick up Charlie’s. She ran right into his arms, laughing with relief. However, when she made sure that he’s all right, she felt a wave of anxiety.

“Have you seen Jacob?” she asked, holding onto his arm.

Charlie shook his head and his face got graver. “There are so many people. I still haven’t seen everyone.”

“I better go search for him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He sounded confident, but she knew it was only because she needed to hear that. Anything could’ve happened, and a bad feeling was growing inside her chest.

She left the Great Hall, going oppositely to the most. She didn’t get far when she met Rowan, and she almost sobbed at her sight.

“Helen!”

“Rowan! You’re all right!” she whimpered, hugging her tightly. “Oh god, I didn’t see you at all, I didn’t know--”

Her voice cracked, so Rowan started patting her back calmingly. When they finally parted, Helena noticed an open wound on her friend’s arm.

“Oh god, you’re not all right!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Rowan waved her hand. “I’ll take care of it in a moment.”

Helena frowned, but she nodded and swallowed hard. “Have you seen Jacob somewhere?”

Rowan’s eyes got wider. “No, I haven’t. I thought he’d be with you.”

“He was. But then we got separated.”

“He’s probably helping people around the castle. There’s a lot of the injured. Do you want me to help you find him?”

Helena looked at her arm and took a deep breath. “No. It doesn’t look good, you better have it checked.”

Rowan hesitated, but she agreed to go see the Healers while Helena continued her search, walking faster through the debris, calling Jacob’s name. She started to think that perhaps they missed each other and she should return… when she finally spotted him on one of the higher levels. He was lying unconscious under the wall. There had to be a cut on his head because blood covered a part of his face.

“No…”

She approached him slowly as if it could delay the terrible truth. She fell to her knees and leant over him, cupping his face.

“Jacob, can you hear me?” She brushed his cheek with her thumb. “Open your eyes, Jacob…” She laid her fingers on his neck. There was no pulse. “Open your eyes, please,” she repeated. “Don’t do this to me…”

She wanted to believe that if she waited long enough, if she’d be patient enough, he’d come back – just like Rowan. That it’s not real, just another lie in her life. But at the same time, she knew that Jacob was truly gone. It was a battle, and he was just one of the casualties.  She didn’t even know how he died.

She sat on the ground, leaning on the wall, and pulled Jacob up on her chest. She wasn’t sure how long she was holding him before she heard footsteps and Charlie got down next to her. He didn’t speak.

“It’s not fair, Charlie,” she whispered, sniffling.

“I know.”

“It wasn’t his war, he didn’t even want to fight. We should’ve left as he said.”

Charlie tried to touch her arm, but she got startled, so he just sat by her side instead.

“He already saved that fucking school! And for what?!” she cried out. “To be killed like that?!”

Her last words turned into a shriek. She pulled Jacob’s body up again as it was slipping from her grasp. He was too heavy, and she was too tired to carry him. Some more time had passed before they were found by Ben.

“Helen…” he started softly. “I’m so sorry. But we have to take him to the Great Hall.”

She finally raised her head and looked at them. Ben was squatting in front of her, Charlie still in the same place. She took a deep breath and carefully rested Jacob against the wall. Then, Charlie helped her stand up once more that day, and she immediately buried her face in his chest. She couldn’t watch Jacob being taken away. When she looked at Charlie, though, she recognised that there’s more bad news to come.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to contain trembling of her voice. “Who else?”

His eyes were glistening. “Tonks… and her husband… they didn’t make it.” Helena covered her mouth with both hands. “And Fred--” The words stuck in his throat.

“He’s just a kid…” she murmured, hugging him again. “I’m sorry, Charlie…”

She wanted to stay with him and comfort him. She wanted to find Rowan and make sure that nobody else got hurt. But all the noises were overwhelming, and she felt like she started suffocating.

“I have to get out of here. I’m sorry…”

She somehow reached the exit, not fully registering things around her. Only some young excited wizard stopped her when she was about to leave.

“We won! Can you believe it?!”

“Did we, really…?”

He was too thrilled to notice her blank stare, and so he quickly went his way. As soon as Helena got outside, she choked on the morning air. She sat on the stairs and embraced herself in an attempt to control the shaking of her body.

“Hey, may I?”

Another minutes or hours escaped her attention. This time, it was Talbott standing above her. She nodded without a word, and he took a seat on one of the steps.

“I’ve heard about your brother. I’m really sorry.”

She bit her lips to stop a weep, but the tears fell down her face. They were sitting a long moment in silence.

“Will it always hurt?” she finally said weakly.

Talbott watched her with compassion. “Yeah.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Move on,” he replied softly. “Find something worth forgetting about the pain. And most importantly, always remember the good things.” He hesitated before patting her shoulder. “Tonks would want us to celebrate the victory,” he added with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you need to.”

And like that, she was left alone. She hid her face in her hands. It suddenly occurred to her that her parents probably didn’t know anything yet, so she wondered whether she should go back to the castle or home. But then, she was disturbed again.

“Hey, are you all right?”

She had to shade her eyes from the sun to see who’s talking to her. To her surprise, it was Harry Potter himself. The Boy Who Lived who just defeated the Dark Lord was asking her if she’s all right. He was the same age as her when she entered the final Cursed Vault. The same age as Jacob when he joined R. She suddenly felt bad because if her experience taught her anything, probably nobody showed much concern about Harry in all of that. When the wizarding world would stop relying on children to solve their problems?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He took a closer look at her. “Do we know each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I know you…”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I saw you at the Burrow.”

“Oh!” She smiled faintly at that remark. It was almost funny that they never had an occasion to be introduced properly. “That is possible, indeed.”

“Well, nice to finally meet you then. I’m Harry.”

He reached out his hand to her. He appeared as exhausted as she felt. “Helena.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

She nodded. “Don’t mind me. But I guess you could use some help with those blankets.”

She took a part of the armful he was carrying, and they headed together back inside. She started helping wherever it was needed. She found Rowan being tended to by Ben and who was upset with him because he didn’t let her go find Helena – but he insisted that Rowan’s wound might’ve been too serious. She spent some time with the Weasleys, grieving over Fred. She was trying to keep herself busy and bring consolation to the others.

And the same thought was motivating her in years to come, just to not let herself get lost in the emptiness. Eventually, she even learnt to be happy again. But nothing could change the fact that in the Battle of Hogwarts she lost not only brother and friends. Part of herself died that day as well.

[beatyoutothepunchline]

On Telephones

Carrie Fisher once said to, “Take your broken heart and make it into art.” I don’t know if she ever found a way to mend a mangled heart--one that can’t will itself to make any art right now--but if anybody has got something better than slamming a two buck chuck while laying on the floor of your dorm room, listening to Julia Jacklin’s cover of “Someday” by the Strokes for the ten millionth time, while going between six different tabs on Glassdoor of jobs you didn’t get while waiting for inspiration to ding like the semi-hourly email from Sur La Table, reminding your newly single ass that “love is in the air” and while it is you can take an extra forty percent off all clad cookware, I’d like to know. All of this is happening on my phone, which I’m trying not to look at right now and am failing miserably at because I’ve spent the last ten years slowly becoming more and more addicted to and reliant upon it. I’m not sure I could go twenty seconds without checking my Instagram feed, and I can assure you that unless the little blue dot on my map app moved with me, I wouldn’t ever get to where I was going. (Have you tried to ask somebody on the street recently where something is? Everybody’s got their headphones in). Remember when phones were just phones and all they did was call people? I do… vaguely. I remember using my stubby, bitten down middle school fingernails to pull up the antenna of my 90’s Nokia, plopping down on the floor in the living room of our house in Omaha and calling everyone in my mom’s address book and tell them I had a cellphone and if I needed to be reached personally, I now could. I remember my mom walking into the room and asking what I was doing, so I told her. I was on the phone with our next door neighbor, Doris Helfrich. My mom pulled the phone out of my hand and apologized laughing it off. I was too old to be doing stuff like that. Twelve or thirteen maybe, but I’m amazed there was a point in my life when talking on phone was a source of anxiety. This is due to the pressure of trying to make a good first impression, which I’m bad at to begin with. I’m one of those people you need to meet at least eleven times before they can form an honest opinion about me. There’s even more pressure over the phone, because there is nothing to go on other than my voice. This wasn’t something that I noticed until I got older and became slightly more perceptive and self conscious of it. I personally have no problem with it, however, in recent years it has come to my attention thanks to the groundbreaking observation of several of the men I’ve gone out with that I sound, “nervous” (In my defense, I’m usually burning the candle at both ends and my voice is shaking because I’m jacked up on an insane amount of coffee.) Or they say I sound scared or sad or angry. My absolute favorite though,came from this idiot I am crying over who told me,“You sound like a California girl.” Because apparently I talk slower (I’m assuming he meant I had a super cool laid back, So-Cal surfer drawl) and because I say “like” a lot (I do, but it’s usually because I’m trying to find the right way to say something. I’m not sure why taking my time to choose my words carefully needs to be pointed out to me as if it’s a bad thing.) But I’m cool and I quote from my favorite Valley girl, saying, “Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man,” or some other joke that fits the comment. The smart one’s laugh and move on. The dumb ones ask, such as said idiot ask, “Why do you use comedy to distract from insecurities?” Truth is I didn’t have any until idiot dudes started pointing them out to me. I hate to admit I let something that stupid get to me, but whenever my phone rings now there’s this sense of fear that the voice on the phone doesn’t match the person I am, and the takeaway will be what I sound like, not what I’m trying to say. The next phone I got was a burnt orange Sidekick, which meant I could finally text people instead of having to call them. Not that I knew anyone to text. Certainly, the sixty-year-old neighbors I called on my Nokia didn’t know how to text or didn’t. But I meet people at school, those people invited me to parties where I meet more people. Those people and I talked for a while and if general teenage awkwardness (because let’s be clear: teenagers were socially awkward long before phones started making them that way) or my inability to form a sentence without sounding like an idiot didn’t ruin the conversation we’d exchange numbers so we didn’t have to talk with our mouths anymore. I distinctly remember a two week period in high school where I met a dude at a party, told my friend to give him my number, lost my phone for two weeks (totally content with never seeing it again) only to find it with an eighty-nine percent battery life and three texts from the boy my friend gave my number to. And really there are two things that are amazing about this. The first is that there was a point in my life where I went two weeks (336 hours, 20,160 minutes) without looking at my phone and that there was a point in my life where I truly didn’t care if the dude from the party texted me. Right after the party, or at all. What happened to her? Fourteen years old in that cocktail dress my mom bought me last minute from Forever 21, standing along the back wall of a dark high school gym, the bass rattling my chest. There was a point in my life where the loudness of it all didn’t freak me out. There was something almost kind of meditative about it. Not the people or music. There is absolutely nothing meditative about being surrounded by teenagers in varying stages of puberty (and yet somehow simultaneously, at the peak of it), dancing to “Apple Bottom Jeans” by T-Pain and screaming “REMEMBER FIFTH GRADE?!” or singing out of key to “Fireflies” by Owl City and screaming “REMEMBER SEVENTH GRADE?!” or little circles of light from a disco ball spinning around your head like someone knocked out in a cartoon. I stood along the back wall of the gym, closed my eyes and focused on the bass until I forgot all the lyrics and all the people around me. If I were twenty-one then I’d have pulled my earbuds out of my clutch and put in my music, Jon Brion or Aimee Man or the Velvet Underground, and slow danced with myself. Unfortunately, I was fourteen. I didn’t know who Jon Brion or Aimee Man were and I didn’t go to the dance alone. For some reason, I decided to go with a bunch of girls who were appalled by the sight of grinding. I was appalled by them being appalled by people who made different choices than they did and decided to call my parents to pick me up an hour into the dance. “Already?” My mom asked though I’m not sure why she was surprised. I always left the party early. As I sat waiting on a concrete bench outside, a girl ran out of the building like Cinderella and the clock was inching toward midnight. She was wearing a powder blue ball gown that looked more prom in the ’50s than a homecoming in 2013 and she was bawling her eyes out, mascara and eyeliner streaking down her face. She sat down on the opposite end of the bench from me. There were about twelve identical benches around us, but she sat on mine for some reason. From what I gathered between sobs into her cell phone she and her boyfriend had just broken up because he had and cheated on her with another girl, who he had taken to homecoming instead of her. Back in my dorm room in 2019, in between Julia Jacklin songs, I started to binge-watching videos by Thoraya Maronesy where she challenges people to call their crushes and ask them out on a date, or asks what the kindest thing they’ve ever been told and there was one video titled, “Who's 1 stranger that you still remember?” And as I watched this video, I tried to think about a stranger I remembered meeting and only one that came to mind was this girl on the bench. And the only thing I remember feeling at that moment was disgust. Because I didn’t understand why she would cry over someone like that. I didn’t get it when I invited him to a lit series I was asked to read at. I’m scared of talking to one person, the thought of standing in front of fifty hipsters in Carhartt beanies who are all tastefully one drink into the evening, armed with big vocabularies and ready to critique me is terrifying. It’s not like Iowa where if you screw up people won’t remember it because they’re not paying attention, won’t remember it because they’re five beers in, or will remember it but love you enough to make it into a joke they’ll tell at your wedding, to your children when they are old enough to get it, and put in your obit. To my surprise, they were all incredibly nice and he was the asshole. I took his judgment of shaky voice and my word choice as honesty. I let him rip into the poets that read the whole walk back to the train, only meekly interjecting with, “At least they’re writing poetry.” I let him call me cute and mansplain the intricacies of his book on finance and politics. I didn’t get it until I made dinner for him (which took well over the estimated hour cook time, because I, in fact, do not know how to operate an oven) and he told me that he was seeing three other people while I was home over winter break. Over break. When he was calling me every other night to tell me he missed me, I was dipping out of dinner early, laying on the landing of the staircase of my parents place or pacing around the freezing garage floor talking to him for an over hour. Because who calls anymore unless they really like you? Only then did click and I finally got it. Heartbreak is a sixteen year old who--for the first time in her life--finally feels like Nora Ephron didn’t completely lie to her, only to have that feeling stripped away by some stupid thing some boy told her. Because a woman well versed in her past mistakes and a man well versed in his didn’t write the right words for that asshole. Heartbreak is a big blue dress that directly juxtaposes the era. That you write off as being delusional or dated, but secretly gives you hope that slow dance still happen, that late night telephone conversations between two people still exist, and still mean more than what is said during them. Heartbreak is mascara running all down your face and no one chasing after you when you leave the party. And let me tell you, that kind of heartbreak looks much better on a sixteen-year-old girl at homecoming than on a twenty-something sitting alone at her kitchen table, with a botched TJ’s lemon chicken sitting in front of her, still a little raw in the middle. I glance down at my phone, trying to convince myself it was to check the time instead of Snapchat, or Instagram. It’s the time of night I would have called him and I debate calling my mother, but I’ve already called her. She likes breaking news, not this repetitive, 24-hour loop of a relationship I prefaced with, “Don’t get used to hearing about him. It’s not gonna last.” I know she will be a hundred percent honest with me. She’ll tell me to wipe the snot out of my nose, splash some cold water in my face and get over it. So instead I call my grandma because I want to talk to somebody that will pretend to care and she is scarily upbeat and gets wildly off topic. She will save me. Or distract me. Maybe they’re the same thing. As soon as she picks up, she tells me about how my uncle Rob was in Chicago for a Navy conference. “But only for two days,” she says as if to avoid offending me. As if I would be furious to find out he didn’t want to spend the few free hours he had in his tight schedule to see me. She told me he left his Navy blues or whatever you call them back in DC where he sometimes works, or in Sicily where he is currently stationed. I forget where she said he left his Navy blues because I wasn’t listening to her tell me how he ran all over town on his lunch break, acquiring pieces of a uniform from thrift stores and getting them tailored to fit him before dinner that night. Where nobody was the wiser, save the two men he asked had a spare necktie. I didn’t stop to consider how beautiful that was--how it could be a short story. One I could’ve been writing if I wasn’t preoccupied with things not working out with the guy I was seeing. My grandma, now picking up on my not so subtle crying, tells me in an uncharacteristically flat, matter-of-fact tone, “It works or it doesn’t,” before telling me to link up with my mom’s second cousin who lives two streets down on Michigan Avenue. That I should consider writing him a letter. Maybe network a little. I write down his address, toy with the idea of writing a letter, but hang up when my grandma starts telling me to “network” with people. A few hours after my conversation with my her, no further into my homework or a story about my uncle, I go from break up songs to love songs when “Big Me” by the Foo Fighters pops up on my recommended list. I’d heard the song before, but I had never really listened to it. Some people say it’s about a fight this guy has with his girlfriend and the line, “If we can get around it/I know that it's true.” Meaning, if it’s the real deal, they’ll figure it out together. Some say that lead singer, Dave Grohl, simply meant it as a corny love song for his wife at the time, some insist it’s about dealing with the loss of Kurt Cobain. I don’t know. I wasn’t in the state of mind to analyze it, so I let the music video inform the brilliant and infuriatingly vague lyrics. The music video for “Big Me” parodies a Mentos commercial, aptly renaming the mint candy “Footos.” In it, Grohl, the band, and several actors (who, if not ripped off of the set from an actual Mentos commercial we’re perfectly cast as being the kind of people that could be in one), encounter a series of minor a setbacks. A woman gets parked in by a self-centered businessman, Dave Grohl gets cut off by an angry lady in a limo, and a kid is kept from getting into a Foo Fighters concert. After a moment of contemplation as each tries to figure out how to deal with the situation they are confronted with, they have this sort of “Ah-ha!” moment, before popping in a “Footo,” smiling at the camera and coming up the solution that has been there all along. The band picks the car out up of the parking spot so the lady can get out, Dave Grohl befriends the woman in the limo that cuts him off and give her a Footo, and the kid is able to sneak into the concert and play with the band. It’s equal parts funny, stupid and feel good and I can’t help but smile when I watch it. I text my brother a link to the video and tell him that I’m having one of those nights where I look at Dave Grohl and think, “Alec could do that.” I pause to explain that, “I don’t know exactly what I mean by that.” But I tell him have fun making that EP he and his band are making. I listen to the song fade out and check my phone, wishing I could pop in a Mento, choose happiness and figure out how to fix myself when I think of one last number I can call. I get up off the floor, walk over to my desk and slide the poem my mom gave me out from under the chip clip holding it to my picture frame. The poem was her dad’s. It’s titled “Don’t Quit,” and when I’m close to quitting I read the poem. When I want answers to questions I flip it over to the phone number written on the back under the name D. Imer. I have no idea who he might be is or what it might means. I open my phone, dial the number, and stop just short of calling. Not because I care about what the person on the other end will think of me or my voice, but because I don’t want to ruin the illusion I’ve created. Deep down I know it will not redirect me to a secret telephone line that will give me answers to all my questions.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 28th July 2019

This is going to be pretty short and rushed I imagine, but we’ll see.

Top 10

Now, we have a funny top four, similarly to last week, full of Ed Sheeran, but not at our top spot, as “Senorita” by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello is back at #1 for a second week after our number-two took it last week.

Our number-two, by the way, down one spot from last week, is “Beautiful People” by Ed Sheeran featuring Khalid. Now, the rest of the top four is Ed Sheeran.

First of all, at number-three, we have “I Don’t Care” featuring Justin Bieber returning at number-three, which, due to nonsensical chart rules, must be some kind of record for highest re-entry ever on the chart. We’ll talk about this more in the dropouts section.

Oh, yeah, and to my surprise, “Cross Me”, also by Ed Sheeran, featuring Chance the Rapper and PNB Rock is not moving at number-four. I figured this one would be in freefall.

Thanks to a Justin Bieber remix, and well, not much else, Billie Eilish’s “bad guy” is up eleven spaces to number-five? I’m puzzled about this one, honestly, if anyone could tell me what happened here I’d appreciate it; this should be floundering in the top 30 right now.

Thanks to the rise of “bad guy”, however, Lewis Capaldi’s “Hold Me While You Wait” is down a spot to number-six. Please drop off quicker, I’m begging you.

Also down a single spot on the chart is AJ Tracey’s “Ladbroke Grove” at number-seven.

Eilish claims another victim as MIST and Fredo’s “So High” is also down one spot to number-eight. Don’t worry, all of these songs will rebound.

Oh, and “Wish You Well” by Sigala and Becky Hill is also down a space to number-nine, but I’m still disputing the fact that song exists.

The #10 spot is, once again, held by Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus, Young Thug, Mason Ramsey and now that guy from BTS. Congratulations on a record-breaking 17th week at #1 in the US, but here in Britain, it seems oddly stable at #10, I expect streaming cuts to kill it any time now.

Climbers

Freya Ridings’ “Castles” is up eight more spaces off the debut two or so weeks ago, entering the top 20 at #18 and becoming her second ever single to chart there. I’m not complaining, it’s a pretty good song. Outside of the top 20, we have only one other gain here, and that’s “Ritual” by Tiesto, Jonas Blue and Rita Ora gaining more traction than I expected 12 spaces up to #28. I hope this doesn’t reach the top 20, it’s pretty trite and honestly would make an awful fit for Ora’s next album whenever in the next decade that comes out.

Fallers

We have plenty of these, however. First of all, “Goodbyes”  by Post Malone and Young Thug continues its unfortunate slow-burning dive down five spots to #17, with “Someone You Loved” close in front by Lewis Capaldi at #19, thankfully down five spaces from last week. It’s not fast enough, but I’m just glad this is on its way out. D-Block Europe’s “Home” is down five to #25 after surprisingly staying pretty stable on its second week. The biggest surprise here, yet at the same time not a surprise to me at all, is Krept & Konan’s “I Spy” with Headie One and K-Trap collapsing down 14 positions to #32. While most British trap has a pretty short chart run, I at least expected this to last longer than any given D-Block Europe song. Oh, and “One Touch” by Jess Glynne and Jax Jones is on its way out down seven spots to #35 after pretty much flopping, especially considering it’s a Glynne lead single.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

Thanks to a nonsensical UK chart rule that to be fair made sense for situations like an Ed Sheeran album bomb, “Take Me Back to London” featuring Stormzy disappears entirely from its number-three debuts last week, and was replaced by “I Don’t Care”, which dropped out from #2 last week. It must be really confusing for those who don’t know all the chart rules to see stuff like this. Elsewhere, we have a couple dropouts so the new arrivals can move in, with “Bounce Back” by Little Mix proving that the damage control single doesn’t work, after dropping out of the top 40 in its sixth week from #34. Miley Cyrus’ “Mother’s Daughter” is out from #36, which isn’t a surprise, and neither is “Love of My Life” by Remedee, Not3s and Young Adz dropping out off the debut at #37. Young Thug’s “The London” with J. Cole and Travis Scott is also out from #38 and since we have no returning entries, let’s get straight to the new arrivals.

NEW ARRIVALS

#40 – “RAN$OM” – Lil Tecca

Produced by Nick Mira and Taz Taylor – Peaked at #11 in Canada and #19 in the US

I really did not want to talk about this song. This is... “Lil Tecca”’s first UK Top 40 hit (Yes, that is his name, it’s dreadful) and the 16-year-old’s first major-label single. He has like eight songs out and he’s essentially a younger, less interesting or even convincing A Boogie wit da Hoodie clone. A Boogie even has a song called “Ransom” that sparked a lot of buzz in him back when he started out. Some may say it’s the melodic New York trap scene repeating itself, I say it’s a clear “Homage” (Read: trend-hopping and copying another rapper for the sake of this complete nobody getting a lot bigger, especially now he has a label behind him). Nobody is talking about how he’s probably some kind of industry plant because nobody cares about the person, Lil Tecca, they care about the song, “Ransom”. This guy has no star power at all or even any potential as a legitimately interesting artist. Okay, let’s stop stalling and get to the meat and potatoes of this song, which are that hook and that video. The video, while uninteresting, was directed by Cole Bennett of Lyrical Lemonade and hence propelled the song to, you know, any sense of popularity, which it wouldn’t have gathered before at all, at least not to the heights of a worldwide smash and top 20 hit in the US. God, this guy infuriates me. I’m definitely going to talk about this song a bit more in January, if you catch my drift, but essentially, this song is melodic trap boiled down to its essence, with a Lil Tjay type beat carrying a Juice WRLD type rapper. There’s one barely-a-verse which lasts about 24 seconds, but the issue is the song is two minutes and 11 seconds long, and, yes, that chorus is infectious but not nearly as powerful as he thinks it is to carry the song for this long, especially since he has no charisma. It sounds like a Python programme wrote and performed a rap song, it really is some of the most monotonous, non-descript garbage to come out of SoundCloud rap. I hate this, it’s definitely on my worst list for 2019, and next!

#38 – “Sorry” – Joel Corry

Produced by Joel Corry

Is it bad that my first observation about this song is that some rapper is going to mention this in a sappy out-of-character love ballad? I mean, think about it, “Sorry” and Joel Corry rhyme. It’s going to happen. Anyway, who’s Joel Corry, you ask? Good question. His Wikipedia page or lack thereof redirects me to a record label called Ostereo which seems pretty successful, and they have a tiny paragraph on Corry. Apparently, he started establishing himself as a DJ on the MTV reality show Jersey Shore. This isn’t looking great, I know, but bear with me, he’s also a body-builder and now presents a radio show on KISS FM. Okay, so, really, much like Lil Tecca, he’s a complete nobody who got picked up by some big label who couldn’t care less about artistic intent, except this is a little more intriguing, considering Ostereo is an independent label and Joel Corry is a DJ, so I’m assuming it’s EDM and I’m right, but it seems snipped from a DJ set. You can tell in the intro, it sounds like the end of a song and an abrupt bleep transition, maybe that’s just for artistic effect but it doesn’t sound great. This is pretty standard deep pop-house, with an unnamed female vocalist singing over a lot of snare and keys, with plenty orchestral stabs to remind you a song is playing. Albeit oddly-mixed at times, the build-up is pretty affective, the drums sound cheap as hell though, as does that drop, it’s really anti-climactic and doesn’t really work at all. The final build-up and drop is admittedly pretty epic though, it gets rid of the anti-climactic minimalism and leaves just a club-ready synth melody over a lot of strings, it sounds really cool is what I’m saying. The build-up itself is manic as well, very interesting, and the singer seems to be a sample from Monsta Boy’s “Sorry! (I Didn’t Know)” featuring Denzie, and, yes, I know samples aren’t typically considered guest spots but the female vocalist is instrumental to this song and its success so surely a featured credit wouldn’t hurt. It’s not Denzie, and by the way, this is so much better than that Monsta Boy song thanks to how Denzie is one of the most incompetent singers known to man, and this female vocalist is actually pretty talented despite singing the exact same lyrics, and referencing Brandy, as in “The Boy is Mine” Brandy, which was unexpected. I’ve searched it up and I can’t find her anywhere, not even on the Genius page, so to me this is just a bit of a douche move.

Edit: I’ve done some extra research and the vocalist is Hayley May. It’s also from the Love Island soundtrack apparently, which makes me like the song a lot less on principle. I’d love to see more from May though, she doesn’t even have a writing credit on this song.

#36 – “Hate Me” – Ellie Goulding and Juice WRLD

Produced by Jason Evigan and The Monsterz & the Strangerz – Peaked at #18 in Hungary and #82 in the US

Oh, Ellie Goulding exists. Yeah, I forgot about that. Listen, I don’t hate Ellie Goulding, far from it, I think she’s fine, but at least lately after about 2015 or so, she has not been nearly as interesting as I want her to be, especially because the songwriting chops are definitely there. When I saw her collaborate with emo-rapper Juice WRLD of all people, I knew this would be far from interesting or good so I’m honestly starting to lose hope in that upcoming album, especially since her other singles “Sixteen” and “Close to Me” were far from special. This is Goulding’s 22nd(!) UK Top 40 hit and Juice WRLD’s third, and, yeah, this isn’t great. That hook is really desperate and this would work if her delivery wasn’t bratty and the lyrics really don’t fit and it feels very cluttered and rushed, like they’re just trying to get it over with... which makes sense, I mean that’s the topic of the song but it’s not convincing, because she wants an answer and she wants it quick, so she’d stop at nothing, surely, but the song’s really short and doesn’t really have any lasting impact. Juice WRLD doesn’t freaking exist, gladly, he doesn’t even join in with the chorus really, which by the third repetition gets really aggravating. The production is an airy mess with trap percussion and cloudy synths that cover Juice WRLD’s vocoder-fuelled performance to the point of not being able to recognise him. It’s not good at all, but I feel it’s just tolerable and bland enough for me to not dislike it. I never thought I’d say this, but Lil Peep did it better.

#12 – “How Do You Sleep?” – Sam Smith

Produced by Ilya – Peaked at #4 in Singapore and #29 in the US

Sam Smith’s second single from this upcoming new album and era, after the success of “Dancing with a Stranger” with Normani, seems to be a lot more energetic especially in comparison with his other two albums he’s released. He seems to have ditched the shoddy pop-soul and has gone straight into more danceable territory, which I’m not complaining about. I loved him on “Latch” and “La La La”, and thought “Dancing with a Stranger” was pretty cool, but other than that there’s not a single song by Smith that I like. Anyway, this is his 14th UK Top 40 hit, and you know what, it’s not bad at all. I love the twinkling synths that carry the song’s main melody, they’re cute but paired with trap percussion and intense sub bass can come off as both oddly sinister as well as infatuated, fitting with the content and subject matter of this song, in which Smith questions how his partner sleeps when he has Smith tangled in a toxic relationship which he can’t get out of, and that “love will keep them up tonight”. I love the second verse, where Smith admits he’s lost himself in his relationship through his subtly Auto-Tuned vocals that are still pretty impressive. The chorus is incredibly catchy while still being powerful and despite all this, that drop kind of sucks. After a great vocoder vocal bridge, the drop is really weak and squeaky, especially with that screechy synth tone, which doesn’t sound as melodramatic or pained as the rest of the song, and instead sounds incredibly lazy. It might grow on me, as the weeping of the drop is kind of humorous right now but could easily fit in with the song’s overall tone and mood, but we’ll see. Overall, this song surprised me, it’s actually really good bar from the trap and EDM elements possibly bogging it down a bit, I think Smith’s songwriting is definitely what shines here instead of Ilya’s production, which is disappointing since I usually love his production.

Conclusion

Yeah, I’m shocked too, but Best of the Week goes to Sam Smith for “How Do You Sleep?”, and Honourable Mention is reluctantly going to “Love Island anthem”, “Sorry” by Joel Corry featuring Hayley May, even if it’s not all that good, only decent. Dishonourable Mention is going to Ellie Goulding and Juice WRLD for “Hate Me” because of course it is, and Worst of the Week should be pretty damn obvious, it’s Lil Tecca’s for “RAN$OM”. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more musical ramblings and I’ll see you next week.

hideu

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 8th July 2018

All right, I really don’t want to talk about Drake. Let me elaborate: Drake has made a lot of music I love ever since he started rapping, but honestly, after a few years, he just got too popular and lost my interest because, like anyone at their peak, kind of got the mindset of “I can do whatever the hell I want and still get money” – which is, in fact, true. His laziest, mediocre, most boring and cheap songs seem to be his most successful, and that kind of aggravates me, when he’s capable of much better and puts it out, only for it to pale popularity-wise in comparison to the trash that he can spit out. Hence, I am glad UK chart regulations have shortened my Drake-load to only three songs, while America has 27 Drake songs in the Hot 100. Let’s stop rambling and get on into the top 10.

Top 10

Surprisingly, Drake just couldn’t knock George Ezra’s “Shotgun” off of its top spot, now at its second week there. That would be Drake’s third number-one debut this week if not for this track’s somewhat odd amount of strength as a hit. Huh.

Oh, yeah, speaking of Drake, we have “Don’t Matter to Me” from his latest album Scorpion, featuring posthumous vocals from Michael Jackson and uncredited vocals from Paul Anka, debuting at the runner-up spot.

“Solo” by Clean Bandit featuring Demi Lovato is down one spot to number-three, somehow still toppling two Drake songs.

The highest of those two being “Nonstop”, debuting at number-four.

Drake also takes up the number-five spot with “Emotionless”, and just like that, he takes up three spots in the top five of both the US and UK charts. Delightful, it’s like the charts are his house that he rents every Summer.

Due to Drake, we have some decent fallers in the top 10, including number-six, “2002” by Anne-Marie, down three spots to number-six.

Also down by three positions is “I’ll be There” by Jess Glynne, now at number-seven.

“I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin stays at number-eight from last week.

“If You’re Over Me” by Years & Years is also down three spaces to number-nine, but that will definitely rebound with their new album and all next week.

Finally, “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B creeps into the top ten at #10 due to a three-spot increase.

Climbers

Yeah, not much increased this week at all. Mostly debuts from last week had smaller gains, but those aren’t really notable. There are seven-space jumps for “Taste” by Tyga featuring Offset up to #27 and “Nevermind” by Dennis Lloyd up to #32, but other than those and “Oh My” by Dappy featuring Ay Em going up five spots to #26, there’s nothing to go and talk to home about here.

Fallers

There are a LOT of small fallers this week, especially for trap-rap and hip-hop since Drake took over that demographic, so I’ll only mention the bigger ones for pop and go rapid-fire for hip-hop. “One Kiss” by Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa is down six to #16, as is “Familiar” by Liam Payne and J Balvin down to #20, as well as “no tears left to cry” by Ariana Grande now at #29. “Flames” by David Guetta and Sia took an eight-spot hit to #34, and “Girls” by Rita Ora featuring Cardi B, Bebe Rexha and Charli XCX didn’t fare well either, down eleven spots to #38, joining Cheat Codes and Little Mix at the bottom of the top 40 as their track “Only You” is down eight spaces to #40 after its debut last week.

Now, for hip-hop: XXXTENTACION – for obvious reasons – didn’t have a good week, with “SAD!” down nine to #14, “Moonlight” down 14 to #31, and “changes” down 15 to #37. Post Malone’s “Better Now” is also down eight to #15, taking an identical drop to “German” by EO, now at #23. And rapid-fire for the lesser falls: “Praise the Lord (Da Shine)” by A$AP Rocky and Skepta hit #21, alongside “Butterflies” by AJ Tracey and Not3s at #22. Women in hip-hop suffered too, as “Man Down” by Shakka and AlunaGeorge hit #30 and “Bed” by Nicki Minaj and Ariana Grande had a five-spot injury down to #35.

Dropouts

Drake dropped out the charts. Somehow, “Nice for What” featuring uncredited vocals from Big Freedia and 5thward Weebie is out of the charts from #25, despite the album release and it hitting #1 in the US. That’s really odd, actually.

Other than that, “Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani is out from #33, “Answerphone” by Banx & Ranx and Ella Eyre featuring Yxng Bane is out from #37 and “Family Tree” by Ramz is out from #38, with most of the songs being pretty much at the end of their run, although “Answerphone” is fading away much quicker than I expected it to.

Returning Entries

There is one returning entry this week due to the World Cup and it’s an interesting case. Let’s talk about it.

#24 – “Three Lions” – Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds

“Three Lions” is a Britpop song written by rock band Lightning Seeds, as well as comedians David Baddiel and Frank Skinner, known for hosting the show Fantasy Football League together. It originally hit #1 in 1996 because it was made to celebrate England hosting the European championships, however it has since been recontextualised for World Cup events. In 1998, it was re-recorded and hit #1 once again, but that version never really stuck. Instead, every four years (and sometimes in between due to the European Championships), the original 1996 track kept on returning to the top 40 or top 100, peaking differently each time – in 2002 it was #16, while it was #9 in 2006, #10 in 2010 (alongside a second re-recording that peaked at #21, released with Robbie Williams and Russell Brand under the name THE SQUAD), #77 in 2012, #27 in 2014, #84 in 2016, and finally, #24 in 2018. It has a strong legacy and will go down as an official anthem for English sport, but is it actually any good?

Well, I’ve never been too much of a fan of music that’s too rowdy or ladsy (for lack of a better word), including a lot of Britpop, but this is too safe for even that. The hook is so weakly delivered with not really much of a passion at all, and I’m not sure if any of these guys can actually sing – don’t get me wrong, it’s catchy and I appreciate all the references to other notable English football moments, as well as some being sampled in an instrumental break that includes a nice guitar/synth refrain that slowly grows in intensity but then it all drops off at that anti-climactic, weaksauce chorus! Skinner’s vocoded, for God’s sake. Put some passion into the main vocals as much as you do with all the backing and left-ear-exclusive vocalising. Yeah, I’m not too much of a fan, but hey, I’ll chip in and have some hope for my own country. Come on, England! It’s coming home!

Wait, sorry, no, it’s not, we just lost against Croatia. God, it’s going to be depressingly ironic when this hits #1 next week – and it probably will.

DRAKE (new arrivals)

#5 – “Emotionless” – Drake featuring Mariah Carey

This is technically a solo Drake song that samples Mariah Carey, but I want to credit her as a feature here because I find it odd (and kind of awesome) how she’s done nothing of note this year and yet she’s still had two top 10 hits in the US since December simply by convenience, the first being “All I Want for Christmas is You”, the second being this new track from Scorpion, and, yeah, you know this is a No I.D. beat as soon as you hear Mariah Carey’s powerful vocals over the simple piano chords and a choir being pummelled by this bass and the skittering hi-hats, very similarly to “The Story of O.J.” by JAY-Z, which he produced last year, especially with how the sampled vocals are chopped-up at times, setting the stage for Drake to body this track with his rhymes about... condemning females using social media and modern technology to enjoy their time in foreign places, specifically Rome, and how he wasn’t hiding his kid from the world, he was hiding the world from his kid (that basically means the exact same thing, Drake, you can’t switch that!). He takes some shots at Kanye and mentions how the wise man once said nothing at all, which apparently, Drake cannot do throughout this year as he’s dissing Pusha T and Kanye throughout the album subtly, and then there’s an awkward fade-out to a nice funky, jazzy piano section that just seems kind of out of place and unnecessary? It doesn’t even lead up to the next song on the album (that’s “God’s Plan”), it’s just kind of there. Okay, but the beat is fantastic, so check this out anyway.

#4 – “Nonstop” – Drake

This nearly debuted at #1 in the US. I’m sorry, but what does anyone see in this?! This is boring. This is trash. This is Drake and his producers just not trying. Drake half-mumbles his verses for the most-part, with some pretty cringeworthy lines about how he’s light-skinned but still a dark man mentally, and how he’s a wig-splitter or whatever the hell. This beat is literally just a bass and some cheap trap percussion I could probably download from Loopmasters right now. This hook is literally just a sample from a Mack Daddy Ju song repeating with static effects and distortion, to the point where it’s unrecognisable and a massive waste of sample clearance money. I can’t believe Wheelchair Jimmy could make a Lil Xan song, but here we are: a sleep-inducing, probably drug-addled sleepwalk through Drake’s mind with more ad-libs than bars, which is probably how I’d describe his album – just replace ad-libs with pointless samples, for which “In My Feelings” is probably the worst case. I’m glad that one didn’t debut. Oh, yeah, and there’s the opening part, which is supposed to be cool and all but all he says is he flipped a switch and has some dumb “flip, flip” ad-lib afterwards, like, what are you trying to do, Drake? No matter what you’re trying to do, you’re failing immensely.

#2 – “Don’t Matter to Me” – Drake featuring Michael Jackson and Paul Anka

So, combining his enthusiasm for both lazy sampling and grave-robbery, Drake decided to buy some unreleased material from Michael Jackson that he wrote with Paul Anka, who provides additional vocals on the song, in 1983, recorded in the same session that lead to “Love Never Felt So Good”, another posthumous single Jackson released with Justin Timberlake in 2014. Surprisingly, Drake sloppily rap-singing over deceased R&B singers has proven to be a working formula, as he does the same stunt with Static Major on the best song on the album, “After Dark”. It’s vaguely tropical in its production, with some nice, warm synths and handclaps as well as some accentuated 808s that set the stage once again for Drake, who has a charm in his badly-sung verses. Michael Jackson’s pre-chorus is okay, and the King of Pop’s chorus is somewhat lowkey, which is a shockingly calm, subtle vocal hook for MJ but possibly an overly dramatic performance for self-certified wig-splitter Drake. Also, I know the audio was from the 1980s, but this could really have been mixed better, especially in the kind of excruciating pre-chorus and bridge (which is just all over the place with unnecessary reverb and echo). Come on, Drake, the mixing throughout this album is way too amateur for someone of your status. JAY-Z’s verse on “Talk Up” might as well have not been there before you made it louder when you pulled a Kanye and changed your own album, cluttering “In My Feelings” even more in the process and not changing this track and “March 14”, which need better mixing, or “Final Fantasy”, which really should have had the unnecessary bridge that samples the Maury skit cut, or “Emotionless”, which could do with you leaving the profanities intact on the explicit version of the album (how do you mess that up, honestly?), or even “Blue Tint”, by giving Future the verse he rightly deserves, instead of just sticking him onto the chorus as an uncredited hook-singer. Maybe you could have put songs on the right side of the album? Side A was darker hip-hop and trap, why is “God’s Plan” on there? Side B was smoother, funkier alternative R&B, why are “Blue Tint” and “Nice for What” on there? Thankfully, this will probably and hopefully be the last time I review a Drake song until my end-of-year lists – in which knowing Drake, he’ll probably make both worst AND best – so I can say I’ve slain this dragon for now (if Pusha T hadn’t done it already).

Conclusion

I mean, what do you think? I can’t give anything to the returning entries, so I have to give Drake something or other. “Nonstop” easily takes Worst of the Week – that is a dreadfully boring song – while I think I’ll give Best of the Week to “Emotionless”, and Honourable Mention to “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson and Paul Anka for at least... trying. See you next week.