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penguinkinggames · 3 years

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“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part I: Introductions

This is the first in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. If you’ve been wondering what on Earth players actually do in a game of Cerebos, read on!

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

Preamble

For this session of Cerebos, the GM volunteered to run a session with the Adventure! Conductor. The conductor’s Atlas Obscura power invites the players and GM to work collaboratively to create a Stops table unique to their journey. They exchanged a few ideas over e-mail, which the GM codified. He added this new Stops table, which was heavy on the hells, to five other Stop tables to create an Atlas. Then he selected six Event tables to create an Almanac.

Everybody met in Discord and talked about unrelated matters for a bit. Then it was time to introduce characters. Each character clings to three touchstones: objects that represented their past in the City by the Sea. Each touchstone has a single Trait.

Dramatis Personae

Tinderling. A woman who looks like a burnt match.

Iron rail spike (Odd Jobs)

A single match (Burns at Both Ends)

Bird bone sewing needle (Piercing Insight)

The Unqualified Robot. A mechanical figure with a light projection screen for a head. It indicates expression by placing a large slide with the image of an emotion on the screen.

Expression slides (Toxic Positivity)

Backpack of unsold gadgets (Abandoned Junk)

Flask of motor oil (Guzzlin’)

The Lady in Blue. A woman who is as regal as she is soot-stained: exceedingly.

Gun with a single bullet (Single-Minded)

Feathered hat (Life of Luxury)

Burned handbag (Lost Sister)

The Lonesome Seafarer. A sea captain far from shore.

Patchwork coat (Coat of Theseus) (“I like it because it’s vague and we’ll find out what it means during play.”)

Blue tricorner hat (Air of Authority)

Spyglass with broken lens (Grizzled Survivor)

Some players came to the table with their whole starting concept, while others were less certain about their starting Traits. Everyone helped brainstorm starting Traits for the players who were less certain. This early riffing was the first sign of the collaboration to come.

One player noticed they gravitated toward useless items or objects of purely sentimental value. The travelers themselves were quite worn, so we were already establishing a contemplative mood. These were travelers who had been beaten down by the world, but hadn’t given up yet. Their stories would be ones of struggle and inspirational determination or grim warnings about challenging forces larger than themselves.

Goals

Based on these introductions, each player determined why another traveler was headed to Cerebos. They shared the goals with the GM over DMs, so no one knew why their traveler was on the road. The truth revealed itself over time through flashbacks

Tinderling: Her newly unionized shop got shut down by union busters. She’s looking for a place with less draconian labor laws.

The Unqualified Robot: Cerebos is home to a famous scientist who specializes in reprogramming obsolete robots for new jobs.

The Lady in Blue: The Lady in Blue's sister, the Lady in Red is a criminal ringleader in Cerebos. The Lady in Blue aims to kill her and take over her crime empire.

The Lonesome Seafarer: The Lonesome Seafarer is looking for someone lost at sea, and old rival/loved one who was believed to have perished but was seen alive in the City by someone the Seafarer trusts. They have something they want to ask them.

Based on their answers to the GM’s initial questions, the players were interested in telling a story about labor, power, and human connections.

For example, the GM asked the players if they intended to pay for passage on the train. One player suggested they might have company scrip from Tinderling's employers. The GM asked if the company had a name, at which point Inferno Heavy Industries was born. It had just opened its newest station for business, to (according to the fresh posters) was "bringing luxury to a land with so little of value".

The Journey Begins

When the travelers arrive, workmen are still unloading plants and doing their best to landscape the surrounding wasteland. The local ecosystem will probably recover. Tinderling notices a panhandler passing among the large crowds, who she recognizes as a scab from the City by the Sea.

The train still has that new train smell. It has fancy cushions and a conductor who’s knowledgeable and friendly, but not pushy. Only the best for the engine’s maiden voyage!

The Lonesome Seafarer follows the automated snack cart from car to car, loading up on the bounty of the rails. The Unqualified Robot, never having been on a train before (presumably), keeps getting in the way until Tinderling recognizes a proletariat in need and guides it to a seat. The Unqualified Robot slides a winking face into its project slot, gladdened by the kindness.

The train sets off and the GM rolls for an Event in the Almanac. The train plows through the desert, passing through a region of low hills and hexagonal pits that seep gas into the air. Plague doctors patrol the perimeter, keeping pit owls from approaching the train.

This terrain is a Danger 3 Event. If the Danger level (that is, the total Danger of all active Events) is 4 or greater by the time the train reaches a Stop, the Stop will be especially dangerous. If the Event’s individual Danger is reduced to 0, one of the travelers will receive a keepsake of the encounter.

At this point, everybody takes an action with comments, suggestions, and general role-playing filling the space in between.

First Round of Train Actions

Tinderling is familiar with gas from mines and factories. It may be dangerous! She suggests people put on wet masks. She takes the Engage Event action and rolls a Success to lower the danger to 2. Several passengers see the wisdom of this advice and mask up.

The Lady in Blue shares a story with whoever’s sitting next to her (it doesn’t matter, really) about the importance of staying calm and composed during times of danger. Take it easy, eat a little food. It will all work out. She uses the conductor’s Easy Confidence Train Action to understand Tinderling. Just a little. She gains a bonus to the next time they work together.

The Lonesome Seafarer believes the unruly owls to be a problem. She shouts out the window and waves her hat at them: “Hey! Owls! Listen to those plague doctors! They have good medical advice!” Another Success. The Event’s danger lowers to 1.

The Unqualified Robot, shocked by all the action, takes the Lady in Blue’s advice. It tries creating a meal from the snack cart, mashing snacks against its face until it’s a custardy mess. The Lady in Blue offers a napkin and they talk through the comedy of manners. Next, the Robot tries its flask. Empty. The Lady in Blue suggests whiskey for the both of them. They both Share a Meal and earn a keepsake: a tasty beverage that provides a one-time reroll of a 1 or 2.

The first round of Train Actions has ended. The train speeds on into the evening. A few owls follow, hovering just out of reach.

Second Round of Train Actions

Tinderling asks the Lonesome Seafarer about her spyglass. The Seafarer has a flashback to a terrible sea battle against a kraken. She orders her crew to battle stations! Second mate Scurvy doubts her, shouting, “Are you mad, captain? We can’t fight this!” The captain disagrees, jumping into action and fighting back the kraken almost single-handedly, saving the topsman from a tentacle that may very well be an arm. After the battle, Scurvy is nowhere to be found. During this flashback, Tinderling set up most of the action, while the Lonesome Seafarer filled in with her actions. Everyone else offered suggestions, commentary, jokes, and bit parts like sailors screaming in terror. Everybody spitballs ideas about what this scene reveals about the Lonesome Seafarer and agrees: the spyglass gains two ranks of the Tunnel Vision trait.

The Unqualified Robot sees passengers all around it talking, and emulates them by asking the Lady in Blue a nice, innocent question about the gun she’s carrying. It seems like a safe conversation opener, but draws her into a flashback! The Lady in Blue is playing cards in a seedy tavern. One hand is on her gun, which she’s holding under the table and pointing at her opponent. It’s a game of chance, but the Lady in Blue is exuberantly talking about her masterful strategy. Her opponent throws his hands in the air in disgust, knocking over several drinks. He goes to pick his mug off the ground, narrowly missing as the Lady in Blue passes her gun off to an accomplice who walks past. Her name isn’t Margaret and the Lady in Blue’s name isn’t Angela, but that’s how they refer to one another. The Lady in Blue’s player had no idea how this game would turn out while it was happening. The accomplice was probably the lost sister alluded to in her Lost Sister trait, but only future flashbacks would tell. Everyone talks about what they learned about the Lady in Blue, and her gun gains two ranks of the Nick of Time trait.

At this point in the journey, two flashbacks have flashed back. The GM rolls on the Almanac for an Event, prompting an announcement from the conductor: “Hello passengers. It’s rare for a train to get lost, but we have.”

Inferno Heavy Industries hired several competing rail gangs for its line, leading to a labyrinthine snarl of tracks. Worse, the turbulence woke a swarm of chandler beetles that had been roosting in the overhead bins. Their waxy secretions have a way of ruining any train ride or picnic, most immediately threatening the Lady in Blue’s sippin’ whiskey. This is a Danger 3 event, which raises the Danger level on the train to 4.

The second round of train actions then continues:

The Lonesome Seafarer continues her conversation with Tinderling, ignoring the beetles for the time being, prompting a flashback. Encouraged by the Lonesome Seafarer’s tale of adversity, Tinderling recalls a time she had to stitch up a friend in the mines with her bird bone sewing needle. Inferno Heavy Industries at fault. That’s when she got the idea to blow up the mine and let those hateful ghouls know their workers had dignity. Everyone decides the bird bone sewing needle gains two ranks of A Rough Patch.

The Lady in Blue decides needs must. She sacrifices her hat to scoop up the chandler beetles that are threatening her drink. It’s a snap decision that she instantly regrets. That hat was a link to who she used to be, and possibly who she would like to continue being. It was an exclusive. A very nice hat. The Lady in Blue rolls an 8 on her roll to release a touchstone. It’s an Ugly Break, so one of her other touchstones gains one Momentum. Even though her luxurious hat has been tainted by insects, she still has her fancy bag. On the bright side, she gains one Contemplation for taking a step away from her all-controlling past. She doesn’t know much about who she is or who she wants to be, but her hat and the memories connected to it certainly aren’t going to hold her back.

The second round of train actions has now concluded! The Danger level is still 4.

Third Round of Train Actions

Tinderling finishes her conversation with the Lonesome Seafarer and looks across the car to the Unqualified Robot. It’s sipping whiskey from its refilled flask, watching the Lady in Blue go after the beetles with her hat. Tinderling notices the flask looks like an oil can. The Unqualified Robot notices it’s being watched and becomes self-conscious. It thinks back to when it liberated the oil can from an Inferno Heavy Industries factory. It was scrounging for oil, always finding just enough to keep it going. Even though the factory was out of commission, automated guards were still protecting its assets. The guards were large and dystopian, while the Unqualified Robot was small and scrappy. It scraped oil off the silent factory machinery with a tiny spoon. It listened to messages on the foreman’s answering machine. The electricity bill is due in three days. The Robot dutifully writes down the messages from the answering machine and takes a sip of oil. Everyone agrees the Unqualified Robot’s story is going to go some dark places. The oil can flask gains two ranks of Drowning Sorrows.

Two more flashbacks have occurred, so the GM rolls for another Event. The players recognize the Danger is adding up, but are cavalier about it. “How bad can it be?” That’s how they get ants. Ants that are crossing the tracks in a line that stretches to the horizon. They’re carrying the components to build a death ray. Components that look suspiciously similar to the inner workings of a robot. The Event’s Danger is 1; the train’s overall Danger is 5.

The third round of train actions continues:

The Unqualified Robot Engages the Event. The ants know Morse code, as does the Robot so communication is not a problem. Understanding is more difficult. The Robot slides a diplomatic slide onto its projector screen and solemnly taps out, “Please don’t build a death ray with the components of robots. They are living creatures, demanding of dignity.” It rolls a 1 and a 2. A Setback. The Robot takes a long pull from its whiskey, using the meal keepsake to reroll the 1. Its new results are a 2 and a 2, which is still a Setback. Worse, it’s rolled doubles. If the Robot chooses not to reroll at this point, it’ll gain a point of Momentum in addition to the penalty from the Setback. However, it still has several Traits it could use. The Unqualified Robot decides a Setback makes more sense. It receives one Damage and gains a point of Momentum to its face plates. Everyone shares a good-natured laugh at how unlucky the robot is and how it will receive a Bad End at this rate.

The Lady in Blue feels a looming sense of dread and takes a Stop the Train Action. The conductor cheerfully reminds everyone that due to paperwork they signed when purchasing their tickets, the train will be making a brief, unscheduled stop to investigate several findings of industrial importance. Naturally, the NDA also applies.

Ordinarily, after calling for a Stop, any travelers who have yet to take their train action for the round would receive the opportunity to do so before the train pulls into the station; however, in the group’s eagerness to get away from the assorted owls and insects, the Lonesome Seafarer’s turn was accidentally skipped!

The First Stop

Inferno Heavy Industries scientists unload delicate instruments and set up camp. This is a burial ground, but the skeletons interred in the sands have beards and wigs made of precious metals. If they could determine how to extract metal from living bone, profits would be sure to follow.

In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an especially dangerous Stop. However, the travelers let the Event Danger pile up. The last remaining owls have lost interest and the conductor deals with the chandler beetles, but bad karma and the ants remain -- and they’ve decided to complement their death ray with silver and gold, both fine conductors..

In fact, the silver and gold threads are so conducive that several of the skeletons spring to unlife, animated by the scientist’s tools. They give of sparks and judder through the sands, inconveniencing scientists, passengers, and ants alike. Passengers watch the train in shifts, keeping the electric dead at bay with long poles.

The Stop has Danger 5. Since it’s so high, the travelers are unable to rest and take in the sights. Moreover, they’ll need to be very lucky if they want to leave with a fond keepsake or without suffering Damage. The train will remain for one round of Stop Actions. Tune in next time to find out how the travelers fare!

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #cerebos #kickstarter #violence mention #death mention #food mention #alcohol mention

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atruththatyoudeny · 4 years

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Monthly Reads | October 2020

Happy 28th! I probably sound like a broken record already but I have to say it again: this fandom has an insane amount of talented writers! I am in awe! Every single one of you is my hero! ♥♥♥ Here are all the 23 fics I read and loved this month:

✧ Welcome to The Rivalry | 2tiedships2 | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - enemies to lovers - rivalry - college - 19k “Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?” Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond. “I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?” Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?” “Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?” As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again. Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

✧ Back to Seventeen | crimsontheory | teacher - soccer coach - 26k As a first grade teacher in a small town in Illinois, Harry’s life is pretty simple. He loves his job, is close with his family, and has a best friend he would go to the ends of the earth for. When a new soccer coach starts at the local high school, things start to get a bit more exciting for Harry. Because that coach just happens to be Louis Tomlinson; the guy Harry was unrequitedly in love with in high school. Or the one where Louis moves back to his hometown and Harry realizes he’s still not over his high school crush.

✧ Sigh for Sigh | logogram | historical - a/b/o - regency - miscommunication - pining - marriage of convenience - 11k When his father's sudden illness forces Harry to get married in a hurry, he's delighted that Lord Louis Tomlinson is the one who makes him an offer. Being married to Louis is just as wonderful as he imagined, except for one thing-- they haven't mated yet. Or the one where they're both idiots, Harry's afraid to say what he's thinking, and Louis's just trying to be honorable.

✧ We Can Find a Place to Feel Good | yeah_alright | 1960s - High School - school dances - 8k 14-year-old Harry is ecstatic to finally be old enough to experience the time-honored tradition of school dances. But with each year that passes and each dance he attends, he’s realizing they’re not all he used to hope they’d be. Especially when he can't actually dance with the person he most wants to. Maybe he and Louis can figure out their own ways to keep dancing, anyway.

✧ At Risk, I Fold | clare328 | canon compliant - established relationship - angst - emotional hurt/comfort - miscommunication - anxiety - implied/referenced alcohol abuse - 15k 2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

✧ Carry These Feelings | LadyLondonderry | fae Á faires - established relationship - magic - 3k Harry is one of the fae, and has to return to Court once a year to please the Queen. He makes a detour on his way home to Louis. Two weeks and I'll be home.

✧ Hung Up High in the Gallery | lovelarry10 | friends to lovers - slow burn - pining - 14k "Louis, lay still!” Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?” “Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?” “Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occurred to me until tonight?” ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

✧ Love you in the dark | Perzikje | historical - wedding night - arranged marriage - dubious consent - 10k The story of a historical wedding night: in which Louis is quite unaware as to just how clueless his brand new husband is about sex. They try their best to figure it out together.

✧ Victorian Boy | audreyhheart | historical - victorian - royalty - enemies to friends to lovers - slow burn - angst - murder mystery - 101k Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

✧ the anticipation of knowing you | sweetrevenge | strangers to lovers - neighbors - light angst - 13k Hello Neighbor! Just wanted to let you know that you were having sex so loud and scarily I called our building manager and security officer because I thought you were hurt. P.S. I sent them away when I heard you yell ‘cock’. I’m sorry that I heard that, but I wanted you to know in case they stopped by to check on you or something. Sorry! Your neighbor Louis Tomlinson in apartment #306 After Louis overhears his next door neighbor having sex, he doesn’t really expect anything but awkward hallway encounters to come from it. Instead, he’s surprised to find himself in a whirlwind pen pal relationship with the sweet, albeit loud, baker next door.

✧ We'll Be All Right | dandelionfairies | married couple - accridents - 13k Harry is performing his one night only show in LA but there are four very important people missing.

✧ The Last Song of Your Life | reminiscingintherain | famous/not famous - Rays of Sunhsine - homophobia - 21k As Harry glanced around at all of the faces, he froze as a very familiar pair of blue eyes leapt out at him. A pair of eyes that he hadn’t seen since before the One Direction bomb exploded. A pair of eyes that he never expected to see again. ~~~~ or the famous/not famous AU, with first love, miscommunication, interfering bandmates, and adorable little sisters.

✧ Her | jaerie | a/b/o - trans character - transitioning - dysphoria - anxiety - quarantine - 7k The buttery swipe of a high quality lipstick was almost a sexual experience in and of itself. This time a deep colour with purple undertones which drew out the emphasis of long, dark lashes and perfectly contoured cheekbones. It was a look for loose and styled curls, feeling the classy formal nightclub vibes reflected back from the mirror. The silky plum coloured slip dress would be perfect to debut. The tags still needed to be cut free from the new garment that hung in the closet, but tonight was the night to set it free. When Harry gets home, she can finally be who she wants to be. Letting someone else in always feels like a distant daydream to her... until it suddently isn't.

✧ Loving You's the Antidote | lululawrence | Stylinshaw - a/b/o - touch deprivation - hospitalization - soulmates - polyamory - anxiety - friends to lovers - no smut - 11k Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly. It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick. Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

✧ Like A Neon Sign | reminiscingintherain | canon compliant - mentions of death - fluff - 8k Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

✧ We Had Everything | lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes) | exes to lovers - getting back together - famous/not famous - 3k “You know Harry’s coming, yeah?” Louis’ fingers twitched, faltering where he was straightening the knot in his tie as he tried to ignore the false nonchalance in Zayn’s voice. He had no idea how he missed the name on the invite list, how he skipped over the initials on the small gifts, didn’t notice the elegant swirl of Harry’s name inked onto an emerald green place card. Or, Louis and Harry fell apart, and Louis' never forgiven himself. He gets a second chance at Zayn and Liam's wedding.

✧ True To Your Heart | reminiscingintherain | Mulan AU - a/b/o - 13k The world was at war with itself. In the small country of Enilenif, in a tiny, often overlooked corner of the world, young Alphas were quickly signing up to fight, desperate to protect their Omegas and their country as Aidem began to attack their borders. A few defiant Omegas tried to enlist as well, but were firmly turned away with disapproving looks by the staff in the office. Harry Styles was one such Omega, sighing heavily as he kicked at a small stone on his walk home.

✧ What the Water Gave Me | larryatendoftheday | fantasy - mermaids - long distance relationship - 29k When a mermaid crawls out of the sea to listen to Harry sing, it changes everything.

✧ it’s hard for me to go home | localopa | angst - breakup - getting back together - 5k don’t call me baby again

✧ The Prince and the Thief | jaerie | Fairy Tale - a/b/o - strangers to lovers - violence - kidnapping - threats of rape/non-con - 19k Harry is an omega prince locked in a tower and Louis is the thief sent to kidnap him. Nothing turns out as planned.

✧ Up On The Shore | wordsnnotes | Eroda AU - magic - epistolary - friends to lovers - childhood friends - emotional/psychological abuse - angst - long-distance relationship - domestic violence - 34k Magic has been outlawed on Eroda ever since President Cowell came into power, and all the magic people had to go live on the island of Stonell. Things are not looking good for Harry when he finds out he's a magician and his abilities seem more and more out of control. Thankfully, his best friend Niall's mother has the idea to put him in touch with Louis, a magician boy living on Stonell. They begin a secret correspondence and drama ensues. Or: Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk, and I'm struggling to make it understandable without using normal narration.

✧ this town's just an ocean now | louistomlinsons | exes to lovers - friends to lovers - summer romance - miscommunication - childhood friends - light angst - fluff - 31k “I have really great friends. Do you remember Louis? You guys were always hanging out when you were growing up.” Harry remembers Louis. Harry remembers Louis. Suddenly, his throat feels way too dry, despite the ice cream he keeps licking at. He chokes a little on a chocolate chip before saying, “I, uh. I remember Louis.” Her face brightens. “We have dinner every Sunday. He owns the house now. His parents moved further north, and he wanted to stay here, so they just gave it over. Now if you want to worry about someone being lonely, that’s who I worry about.” inspired by watermelon sugar, featuring picnics on the beach and boys being dumb

✧ I Am the Blinking Light | dearmrsawyer | ghosts - shipwreck - 19k There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. They say a ghost haunts the lighthouse, and you can hear it calling out in loneliness on the ocean waves.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #monthly reads #completed fics #larry fics

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ikleesfiction · 3 years

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Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 3,762 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4 🞂 Part 5 🞂 Part 6 🞂 Part 7 🞂 Part 8 🞂 Part 9

Part 10

It's been almost 6 months since you left Chicago. You spent those months working yourself to the bones as a way to forget Jay. It certainly was not a successful attempt, but at least you were too busy to think about him. You accepted Alex's idea to make a duo project and lazily named it "alex&y/n". You both started doing gigs at various clubs around the world. Pyramid, Alex's record company where you work for, continuously releases new sounds that you discovered. You keep writing and producing songs after songs. Really, your career is flourished. But deep inside, you're empty.

You never had a chance to go back to Chicago. Part of you was relieved that you don't have to deal with it yet. The other part of you was missing it so much. You might only stay four months in Chicago, but somehow the city (and its people) have marked their place in your heart.

You love Amsterdam. It's still your home, but its charm hasn't called you as it did before. Sure, you have your parents here. But you only got to meet them twice a week at best. Your work and their jobs don't leave lots of time to be together. Also, even though you have most of your friends in the city, you don't get to hang out with them all the time since you travel a lot for work. You get to make new friends along the way instead, just like you did in Chicago.

Case in point, you are currently in Norway, working on a song with Oliver Dahl, the number #1 DJ in the country.

Oliver's home studio is one of the best places you ever work in. The studio setup is practically the same as the one Pyramid has. But Oliver has a baby grand piano on one corner where through the window, you can see a tranquil lake with a green forest on its side. The view is calming and inspiring. So although Oliver is a much better pianist than you, you park yourself there and relegate him to a Korg keyboard.

"Hey, it's almost dinner time. Let's take a break," Oliver suggests to you. He guides you out from the studio and moves downstairs to his kitchen. The glass-paneled dining room has a door that leads to the back porch. You thought the view from the studio was great, but the view from down here is even better. You sit on a swing at the porch, take a deep breath of fresh air there.

Oliver comes out with two bottles of beer and hands you one, which you gladly accept. You switch your phone back on since you didn't want to be disturbed when you were working. It relentlessly buzzes once it's on. "Well, somebody is famous," teases Oliver.

You peek at your phone screen before grimacing at him, "Sorry. Nick needs something. I gotta call him back." You walk a few steps away from the porch. Without the roof over your head, you can feel slight drops of rain on your face. "Hey, boss. How's the meeting in Brussels go?"

"Infuriatingly slow. That is why I'm calling. I was hoping you can help us," Nick replies. He didn't sound too worried, so you thought it's going to be an easy request, "Sure. What is it?"

"Alex was supposed to have a phone interview with one of Chicago radio show, to talk about the new single of alex&y/n. Since our meeting here runs longer, could you do it in his stead? I know you don't like doing an unprepared interview, but I promise it won't be long, 15 minutes max."

"Alright, I'll do that." It's not like you can say no anyway.

"Great! I'll set it up. It's going to be in an hour. So don't mute your phone." Nick reminds you.

"I won't. It probably falls during our dinner here. I can keep my phone on."

"Thanks, y/n," Nick hangs up the call.

◢◤

Joe Cruz walks into the common-room of Firehouse 51 with his phone on hand. "Guys, Chicago Top 40 is interviewing Y/N right now!"

"Turn the volume up. I cannot hear it from here," Mouch complains from the couch as he mutes the tv. Joe pushes the side button of his phone and sets the volume to the max. Everyone continues doing their things quietly as they listen to the interview.

"We got one half of alex&y/n on the phone with us here. Dare I say the prettier half. Let's say hi to Y/N!" They hear the radio host cheers from Joe's phone.

"Hi, how are you doing?" you chuckle and greet back.

"We're all good here, thank you. So please tell us more about the latest single of alex&y/n? How did you guys come up with it?"

"We started writing this song probably about 8 months ago. I was in Chicago at the time actually," you start to explain.

"Oh, really? I didn't know you were in town," the host shortly interrupts.

"Yeah, it was back before we had any idea for this project. Alex came up with it when we made this song. It was supposed to be the first single of alex&y/n. But when I came back to Amsterdam, we wrote "Void" The team decided that it fitted better as the first single. Hence this song "Fiery Love" got pushed to be the second one."

The conversation regarding the song and the duo project goes on for another ten minutes before the interviewer wraps it up. Joe is about to close the radio app when he sees Jay Halstead and Hailey Upton step into the common-room of Firehouse 51.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/N," says the host on air. "What time is it anyway in your place right now? I haven't got a chance to ask where you are,"

Joe's thumb stills above his phone screen. "It's almost 7 PM in Bergen, Norway," you inform the radio. Jay stiffens as he hears your voice.

"Oh, you got a gig there tonight?" the host asks curiously.

"No. Just a bit writing and studio session," you answer vaguely.

"It must've been in a studio with a view, unlike our four wall booth here," the host retorts.

You snicker quietly, "If I could, I'd trade you in a heartbeat,"

"Oh, stop it! You're too kind," the host says, thinking you're jesting.

You let out a tiny laugh, "But no, I'm serious. I wish I didn't leave Chicago," you admit candidly on air. Totally unbeknownst to the strained atmosphere in the Firehouse 51 common-room.

"Come visit soon. We'll show you our fancy dig here," the radio host returns jokingly. Joe finally decides to close the radio app, as Matt Casey addresses their guests. "Detectives, how can we help you?"

Jay looks at his partner, neglecting the fact that everyone in the room is watching him, "Can you handle this by yourself? I.. I think I left my phone in the car," Hailey is sure that Jay didn't leave his phone, but she gives him an understanding nod.

"We need to see Chief Boden," Hailey answers Matt. He then guides her to the Chief's office. When both detectives are out of range, Hermann asks the room, "It was a bit awkward, wasn't it?" Everyone ignores Hermann's comment and back doing things they did before. Kelly Severide determinedly stands up from his seat and goes outside. He finds Jay standing in front of the squad truck.

"Hey, man," Kelly greets him. Jay just nods to acknowledge him. After a few moments of silence, Kelly breaks first, "She always asks about you whenever she calls."

Jay scoffs his disbelief, "Yeah, right."

"She is not a brave girl, Jay. But she really loves you. She still regrets hurting you." Kelly tells him. Jay stays silent, taking in Kelly's words. "I don't think she's doing well out there." Kelly continues. Jay glances at him before opening his mouth to say something. But at the same time, Hailey comes out with Matt. "Let's go," she tells Jay. He nods at Matt and leaves with her without saying anything.

As both detectives walk away, Kelly shouts to Jay, "Will you pick up? If she calls you?"

Jay halts and looks over his shoulder. Not sure what to answer, he just shrugs in response.

◢◤

The following week, you find yourself working alone in Alex's studio. You go through some demos, try to find a song that you'd like to work on. The door is suddenly opened and reveals Alex and Nick coming in.

"You planning on going home tonight?" Alex says as he hands you a mug of hot tea. It's not unusual for you to stay all night working. While it was beneficial for the company, your well being is still his priority.

"Maybe," you just shrug as you accept the mug. "Thanks. So what's up?"

"I got an offer for alex&y/n gig for an EDM festival," Nick starts. "What do you think about it?"

"Cool, I guess.." you answer indifferently.

"Yeah?" Alex tries to reconfirm your agreement. You never play a festival before, so far alex&y/n only do club gigs. Even though you're basically doing the same thing, the stage and crowd size sometimes could be overwhelming, especially for someone who doesn't like to perform live.

"Uhuh," you nod before sipping your tea.

"Don't you wanna know where it will be?" Nick pushes.

"No," you say in disinterest, already looking back at your laptop. Nick raises his eyebrow questioningly towards Alex, which he answers with a subtle nod. "Alright then, I'm gonna go home now. You two get some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow," Nick informs you before leaving the room.

Alex drags a chair and sits next to you. "Talk to me. Please"

"There's nothing to talk about," you reply to your cup. Alex nudges you. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Stop it!" you scold him as you roll your chair away.

"You know I can do this all night until you talk to me," Alex says as he slides closer to you.

You exhale loudly in defeat before quietly tell him, "It's just... I'm exhausted."

Somehow he knows that you're not only talking about your body. "I'll talk to Nick. We can cancel the rest of alex&y/n gigs,"

"You know we can't," you rebuff his idea.

"We might be able to do that if I offer to take them instead?" Alex offers a solution.

"And let you be the one who burnout? Hell no," you deny his suggestion. You tiredly rub your face with your palm, "It's alright, Lex. I should have just suck it up and do it,"

Both of you stay silent for a moment. You pick your tea mug from the table when Alex unsurely speaks again, "That gig Nick talked about is in Chicago," You freeze up until Alex prods you, "Still wanna do it?"

"What do you think?" you weakly ask for his opinion.

"I think we should do it. It'd be fun. We can try to arrange a few days off. You can take me to your favorite places in Chicago, meet your friends.." Alex tells you. It sounds nice, makes you want to say yes. But you still have doubt in the back of your mind. "It's been months, y/n. Time for you to face it. Face Jay." Alex continues as if he knows your thought.

"I can't!" you shake your head in resign. "And why is that?" Alex pushes further.

"Because I still love him!" you forcefully drop your mug on the table, the tea splashes out of it.

"Then tell that to Jay! Don't make the same mistake as you did before!" Alex yells back at you. You instantly feel like you've been slapped.

Avoiding Alex's stare, you start to pack up your things from the table. "I think I need to go home now. Don't think I can work on anything tonight." You grab your jacket and hastily walked out of the studio.

A couple hours later, Alex comes by to your place with a canvas bag on his shoulder, "I got a box of chocolate and a six-pack of La Trappe Tripel here,"

"I don't think they can help me feel better this time," you quip as you open the door for him. Alex pulls the beers and chocolate out from the bag and puts them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He reaches again to the bag, "Don't worry, I come prepared. Got jenever in here too," He sets the bottle next to the chocolate. You go to the kitchen and bring out two clean glasses.

"Are we starting right away?" Alex asks you in confusion.

"Are you waiting for something else?" you start to open one of the beer bottles.

"Don't you want to eat dinner first? Or maybe have bitterballen to snack on?" Alex suggests to you. You open the chocolate box and pop one candy into your mouth. "There, I ate something," you declare sarcastically before sipping the beer in your hand.

"Okay then," Alex accepts his defeat. He goes to your kitchen and sees what you have on your fridge. "You don't mind if I finish this leftover stew, right?" he hollers at you as he puts the container in the microwave.

You snort your answer, "Go ahead. It's not like you need permission to raid my pantry anyway,"

Alex comes back with a bowl of stew and sits next to you on the couch. You fiddle with your phone for a bit before a ballad song playing on your home speaker. Alex starts to talk about various things as he eats, updating you about his sister Sara, his meeting in Belgium. He even lets you know what he had for lunch today. He keeps talking because he knows you're not gonna say anything.

Alex cracks open his second beer while you finish your third one and start to pour the gin into your glass. "I'll Be Over You" by Toto is playing on your speaker. Alex exasperatedly rolls his eyes, thinking that his best friend could really be dramatic sometimes. You sprawl on the couch with your feet on top of Alex's lap. "What if he's moved on?" you say after long contemplation, ready to tackle more serious conversation. "Ready" as in drunk enough to talk about it.

"Well, you face that with head held high and moved on too," Alex replies. "Easier said than done, I know."

"Big chance he doesn't want to see me anyway," you mutter to yourself. But Alex still answers you, "Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know without going there,"

◢◤

It's been 7 months since you left Chicago and Jay Halstead still kept your last voicemail on his phone. Even when he's so mad at you, Jay never had the heart to delete it. Because somewhere deep inside, he could hear your sincerity. Jay is desperate to believe that you honestly love him and care about him.

Before Severide approached him the other day, nobody ever talked to Jay about his ex-girlfriend. Jay never apologized for pushing Adam. His friends guessed that his relationship ended, but no one ever said anything about it. His brother always abruptly changed the radio whenever your song was played on-air, acting all annoyed. But he knows Will is secretly still a fan of your music, just not in front of Jay. He thinks they're all worried that talking about you would raise his temper. But the truth is Jay misses you.

After his anger passed by, Jay could understand your position. You were left alone, befriending strangers in some city that far from home. While Jay understood that you missed home, he's still disappointed over the fact that you didn't tell him sooner. But it already happened, you made your choice. Now Jay is left with a bruised heart and silently pined over his ex.

Jay is lost in his thoughts. He jolts in surprise when he feels something cold and wet on his cheek. Jay looks up to find Will, who hands him a glass of beer. "How is the game going? Anything interesting happens when I'm gone?" Will asks Jay as he sits and looks down to the ice rink. They are at the United Center arena, watching a Blackhawks game.

"Nah, you don't miss much," Jay tells his brother. "Thanks for taking me here, man."

"It's nothing. I want to do something for your birthday, but since I have to work double shifts tomorrow, we just have to celebrate early." Will raises his glass for a toast. The brothers shout wildly during the game, chant together with other spectators in the stadium, basically having a good time. When the game is on a break, Will and Jay trade a light banter between each other. The jumbotron above plays adverts that they ignore.

"This summer, coming back to the Soldier Field Arena. We proudly present, Spring Awakening Music Festival! Featuring..."

When they hear the ad's narrator mentions "alex&y/n" Jay spontaneously looks up at the jumbotron. There was a picture of you and Alex, standing back to back, staring hard through the camera. Even with the cold gaze and unsmiling face, Jay still thought you look good. The announcement was certainly a surprise. Jay remembered when you told him that you don't like to perform in front of crowds. Now here you are, headlining a big stage. Time's changed, he thinks to himself.

Jay keeps looking at the gigantic screen, even though now it's showing another ad. If anyone asks him, Jay cannot tell what this new ad is about. His mind is busy thinking about something/someone else. Will glances at his brother and notices the tightness of Jay's shoulders. "I won't come to see them, even if they give me free tickets," he remarks wittily. Jay burst out a laugh and elbow his brother, "Thanks, man." he is grateful for his brother's understanding.

◢◤

Jay wakes up late the next morning. He spent the night listening to your podcasts and fell asleep with your voice on his ears. Seeing you on the jumbotron made him missed you more. His phone battery was drained, his alarm didn't ring. It's only because of habits from his ranger days that he woke up and gets ready in time to go to work.

Just as he walks out of his place, a delivery man is stopping him. "I got a package for Jay Halstead?"

"Yeah, that's me," Jay says distractedly, trying to recall if he orders anything online. The guy hands him a bag and a receipt form. Jay skims the paper before signing it. On the shipper box, it is stated, "Belgian Chocolatier Piron, Inc." He returns the signed form to the courier. "Thank you. Have a nice day, Sir", chirps the man. Jay pauses slightly, looking at the bag, before running to his car once remembers that he's late for work.

Once Jay arrives at the district, he puts the suspicious package on his desk. He opens the bag cautiously and pulls out a golden cardboard box with a black bow tied around it. He digs deeper into the bag but finds nothing more, no notes or cards, just this golden box.

"You got a box of Piron?! Can I have one? Please?" Jay hears Kim Burgess squeals at him.

"What the hell is a Piron?" Adam Ruzek asks loudly from behind her. Kim starts to pull the bow, but Jay moves the box away quickly. "I don't even know who it's from. We should be careful. I'll send it to the lab.."

"Is that Piron?!" Hailey Upton shrieks as she steps closer to Jay's desk.

"What? You know about this Piron too?" Adam baffles even further.

"They are like one of the best chocolatiers in town." Hailey impatiently explains to Adam. "Is it yours, Jay?" She sounds rather demanding than asking.

"Yes, it's Jay's. And he wants to bring it to the forensic lab. Unbelievable..." Kim says disapprovingly.

"I don't even know who send it! Aren't you worried if it turns out to be a bomb or a deadly virus?" Jay tries to reason to his teammates, who are now circling around him.

"What bomb?" They all jump in surprise when they hear Voight from behind them.

"Ah, it's nothing, Sarge. There are no bombs anywhere. At least not in the city of Chicago... Maybe..." Jay rambles.

"Are you gonna open that box, Halstead?" Voight cuts him off, pointing at the innocent box.

"I'm not sure, Sarge," Jay meekly admits. Voight pulls the black bow that was half undone because of Kim and opens the box gently. "Oh no, it's a bomb," Adam whispers as he hides behind Kevin Atwater but peeks over his shoulder. The girls are excitedly bouncing on their heels, seeing the rows of chocolate inside the box. Voight takes one and confidently bites into it. "You should never waste good chocolate. By the way, happy birthday, Jay." He pats Jay's shoulder before stepping toward his office. Jay gives Voight a small smile, though he still confounds about the situation.

Jay looks at the rest of the team. Hailey bites a candy on her right hand as she picks another with her left. Kim got half-bitten chocolate on her fingers. Her eyes were closed as she savors the taste. Adam's hand hovers above the box, cautiously looking at his teammates, "You girls feel okay? No dizziness, nausea, anything?" His questions were left unanswered since the girls were too busy munching.

Kevin offers Jay a handshake and continues with a quick hug, "Happy birthday, bro!" Jay clasps his shoulder, "Thanks, Kev,"

"So someone sent you this as a birthday gift, huh? Quite special, isn't it?" Kevin picks one candy from the box.

"I guess. If only I knew who sent it..." Jay wonders. He also takes one piece of chocolate and nibbles into it. The bittersweet taste suddenly reminds him of a particular someone. At the same time, his phone chirps on his desk. Jay checks his phone and finds a voice memo from an unknown, international number. He moves to a quieter place and listens to the message.

"Hi, Jay," Jay holds his breath, recognizing the voice on the other end. "It's me, y/n... I just want to wish you a happy birthday... Hope you enjoy the chocolate," He waits as you hesitate to continue. "Err... Stay safe, alright? I love you." As if just realizing what you've said, Jay hears you curse in panic, "oh shi.." and the message briskly ends.

Next on this fic : Part 11

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romancandlemagazine · 3 years

Text

An Interview with Al Baker

I first came across Al Baker’s photography whilst looking through an old copy of a magazine called Flux I’d snaffled from Manchester’s world-famous second-hand wonderland, Empire Exchange.

Hidden in the magazine’s pages, between an interview with Mark E Smith and a review of a newly-released sci-fi film called The Matrix, were two black-and-white photos, snapped from the window of an ice-cream van, showing kids lined up for a bit of frozen respite from the summer heat. Reading the fairly minimal bit of text below, it turned out the photos were part of a series called ‘Ice Cream You Scream’.

I’d missed the exhibition by approximately 20 years, but thanks to the high-speed time-machine known as the internet, I managed to track him down. Here’s an interview about his fine photos, his time living in Hulme Crescents and the benefits of carrying cameras in a Kwik Save bag...

Classic ‘start of an interview’ question here, but when did you get into photography? Was there something in particular that set you off?

Like a lot of young people, I knew that I was creative but hadn’t quite found my place. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be a writer or in a band. I used to doodle, copy Picasso’s in biro, so off I went to art college and tried my hand at different things. All it really taught me was that I had neither the patience, technique or talent to become a painter. Photography seemed a much easier way to make images, a more instant result. Of course, the more you get into it you realise that whether you’re any good or not does rely upon patience, technique and talent after all.

Was ‘being a photographer’ something that people did in Manchester in the early 90s? Who did you look up to back then?

Not really. It was very rare to see another person wandering around with a camera back then. Even years later when I began photographing the club scene in Manchester no-one else seemed to be doing the same thing. Not at the night clubs I went to anyway.

Now it’s very different. These days you see people with cameras everywhere. Club nights almost always have a photographer. People are far more image-conscious due to social media. Today most people are busy documenting their own nights out with their phones. Look at footage from any major gig these days and half the room is filming it. Back in the 90s no-one seemed to care about documenting anything like that. You were very unlikely to see the photos that someone might be taking the next day or, in fact, ever. People often used to ask ‘What are you taking photos for?’ with genuine surprise or distain.

In terms of photographers whom I looked up to there are so many! There are great image masters like Cartier-Bresson or Elliott Erwitt. Photographers of war and social upheaval like Don McCullin and Phillip Jones-Griffiths. I liked Alexander Rodchenko and Andre Kertez, how they broke the conventions of their day with wit and invention.

I loved the dark and dirty images of Bill Brandt, and his inspiring nude studies too. I loved the city at night recorded by Brassai. Paris in the 1930s definitely seemed to be the place to be. Diane Arbus, Jane Bown and Shirley Baker. American street photographer Gary Winogrand was a huge influence on me, as was Nick Waplington’s book ‘Living Room’.

I was also quite lucky to be living in Manchester at that time. Daniel Meadows and Martin Parr had both attended Manchester Polytechnic. Denis Thorpe had worked for the Guardian in Manchester. I saw Kevin Cummins iconic Joy Division images, Ian Tilton documenting The Stone Roses. Both were regularly in among the inky pages of the NME.

I also saw an exhibition of Clement Cooper’s photographs of the Robin Hood pub in Moss Side, which was another big influence. I was also very lucky in that my very first photography tutor was Mark Warner, who produced very beautiful images, did a lot of work for Factory Records. He shot The Durutti Column’s (1989) Vini Reilly album sleeve. He was probably the first person who ever really encouraged me.

I really like that series of photos you took from inside an ice-cream van in the late 90s. What was the story behind that?

The initial idea for that project came from my friend Steve Hillman, who is an actor. At the time he was ‘between jobs’, which is an actor’s euphemism for being unemployed, so he was working an ice-cream round to help to pay the rent. I was at his flat one night, thinking aloud about where I might go next with my camera. I’d spent quite a long time following graffiti artists work around Hulme, and had my first exhibition based around that. But it only seemed to lead to offers of more work with graffiti artists, and I wanted to do something else.

I’d done a 2nd exhibition based around portraits of my friends in Hulme. I’d flirted with some one-day projects, like Belle Vue dog track, Speakers Corner in Hyde Park. Anyway, while I was talking, not really knowing what I was going to do next, Steve simply stated ‘You should come out on the ice-cream round with me. No-one ever comes to the van without a smile on their face.’ And it just struck me as a beautiful & simple idea. So, one day we just set off. 4 or 5 rolls of film and all the free ice-cream I could eat, which I discovered wasn’t very much!

What was the logistical side of those photos? Were they taken from the same van?

They were all shot on the same day, the same van, all around Salford. It was good fun, but actually very hard work. Trying to constantly find new angles, different framing and working on a hot August day in such a small confined space. By the end of the day I felt that I had enough strong images for my next exhibition. They were much jollier images than ones I’d made before. As a result, because it had more universal appeal, I got quite a lot of good publicity out of it, and Walls gave us hundreds of free Magnum ice-creams to give away on the opening night!

These days I could think of more than a few reasons why you probably shouldn’t drive around Salford photographing other people’s children without permission haha (in fact, I’m surprised that I wasn’t hung from the nearest lamppost!) but I was much younger and far more naive back then. Besides, that was something that I’d learned from living in Hulme. You don’t ask for permission. Someone will only say ‘No’. Just crack on and do it anyway.

You also documented the last years of the Hulme Crescents. A lot of people talk about that time and place in Manchester, even now—but what was the reality of it? What was a normal weekend there like?

It was quite unlike anywhere that I’d ever lived before. It looked like a fascist dystopian nightmare, only one peopled by Rastas and anarchists. Bleak concrete interconnecting walkways. No through roads whatsoever. A fortress feel to the place. The entire estate was earmarked for demolition before I arrived. Everyone else seemed to be busy moving out. But I was already spending a lot of time there, post-Hacienda, parties, friends, lost weekends.

There were lots of young people living there. Families had mainly moved out as the heating didn’t work properly, flats were cold & damp, often infested with cockroaches. There were traces of old Irish families, the Windrush generation, interwoven with punks and drop-outs.

There was a cultural & artistic flowering among the ruins. A Certain Ratio, Dub Sex, A Guy Called Gerald, Edward Barton, Ian Brown, Dave Haslam, Mick Hucknall, Lemn Sissay, all lived there at one time. It was the original home of Factory, where all the post-punk bands played. In turn that led to Factory Records, New Order, and the Hacienda. The PSV club later hosted raves and notorious Jungle nights. It was a good time to be young.

You lived there as well as shooting it. Do you think it’s important to be a part of the thing you’re photographing, rather than just an outsider with a camera?

I don’t know that it’s important to be a part of the thing you’re photographing, ‘embedded’ is what the war photographers call it, but you definitely capture different images. Certain things that might have been shocking to an outsider were commonplace, normal & every day to me. Boring even. On the other hand, I was much less likely to be robbed walking around. That meant I could take my camera places that other people couldn’t, or maybe shouldn’t!

I used to wear my camera beneath my coat so it couldn’t be seen, and I carried my film and lenses in a Kwik Save shopping bag so as not to attract unwanted attention. I got into the habit of handing that bag over the bar at the pubs I went in. I would collect it the next day if I could remember where I’d been the night before. Bless you, saintly barmaids of old Hulme.

If you look at my images of Hulme people they’re usually reacting to me and not the camera. Either that or they’re not reacting at all. They’re ignoring the fact that I’m taking a picture. That’s what gives them that ‘fly-on-the-wall’ feeling.

This is something that I put to greater effect later when I was photographing in night clubs, skulking stage side or hiding in a DJ booth. When DJs & MCs see you week in week out at the club doing the same thing they stop posing for the camera and just get used to you being there. You become part of the furniture. And when people stop being conscious of the camera, when they ignore that you’re even present, you can step in much closer. Put simply, you get better pictures. They’re much less performative and far more honest. It’s not often people can say they like it when they’re being ignored, but for photographers it’s a gift.

Do you think somewhere the Crescents could exist now, or was it just a case of the perfect accidental recipe for that kind of creative, DIY activity?

No, I don’t think anywhere like Hulme will ever happen again. I think the city council learned that lesson a long time ago. It was a dystopian utopia for us, but it grew out of failure. When I 1st went to university they warned us never to set foot there. I said, ‘But what if you live there already?’ and there was an embarrassed silence. They really hadn’t expected a poor boy from Hulme to be in the room. Now they own half of it and it’s all student Halls of Residence.

The city centre has been regenerated, redeveloped & gentrified. We can’t afford to live there anymore, and people like me are pushed out. Hulme was a failed social housing experiment, an eyesore & an embarrassment to the people who had commissioned it. People like me moved in & we made it our own. They’re never going to allow anything like that to happen again. Every quaint old fashioned pub that closes becomes a block of flats. The footprint is too valuable to property developers. One day all we will have will be faded photographs to bear witness to a very different way of living.

Was it through the Crescents that you started shooting graffiti? 

When I first arrived in Hulme I’d just spent 3 years living with mates in a couple of houses elsewhere in the city. It suddenly struck me that that part of my life was over and I had very few photographs of that time. I’d been too busy learning photography, taking the kind of photos that every art student takes: Broken windows; abandoned buildings, and bits of burnt wood. I vowed I wouldn’t do that again. I began documenting the life that was around me.

I started with the architecture, as it was quite unlike any other place I’d ever seen. It had a desperate, faded beauty even then. The whole estate had been condemned for demolition before I arrived, but the city council had given up on the place long before that.

I started to notice graffiti pieces going up, seeing the same names repeated. It was obvious that there was a small group of writers trying out their styles on a large canvas for the 1st time. Wanting to claim this derelict space as their own Hall Of Fame. I started to document them as they sprang up. Then I noted that context was crucial, and so I began to include the soon-to-be-derelict buildings in the images also. The shapes & colours of the graffiti looked positively psychedelic beside the drab monochrome of the setting.

With your graffiti shots, you show a lot more than just the pieces. Was it an intentional thing to show the act behind it a bit?

Because it was Hulme and no-one cared, these guys weren’t working in the dead of night like most graffiti writers do in the train yards and what-have-you. They were working during the day, right out in the open. So, documenting their work, it wasn’t long before I ran into Kelzo. He really didn’t trust me at first, but I kept coming back. So, I got to know them. They started to let me know where they were going to be painting next.

In 1995 Kelzo organised the 1st SMEAR JAM event (named after a young aspiring writer who used to come down to Hulme to learn, and had died suddenly from a nut allergy). That was such good fun that another event arrived the following year, another & another. Graf writers came from London, Edinburgh, Leeds, Sheffield, and as far afield as Spain. The local community came out to support and, as usual, it turned into a party that lasted all weekend.

I got into the habit of taking 2 cameras. One loaded with B&W film to capture the event itself, and another with colour transparency to document the finished artwork.

Graffiti… hip-hop… kids getting ice cream… I suppose there’s a few different subjects there, but was there an underlying thing or theme you wanted to show with your photos? Maybe getting a bit philosophical, but they’re all quite free acts—is it about enjoying what’s there?

It was more about documenting the life I saw around me. Moving to Hulme was what led to me capturing graffiti, and graffiti led to hip-hop events. Once Hulme was demolished I moved my camera into the city centre and began photographing club nights. House and hip-hop turned into Drum’n’Bass, and then dubstep. Residents and warm-up acts have now become headliners in their own right. Manchester has always been a great city for music, and it kept me busy throughout the naughty Noughties. I’ve pretty much retired from all of that now. I’d had enough after over 15 years of it. I no longer feel compelled to document something as ephemeral as a club night anymore when half of the audience are doing it themselves anyway. Then coronavirus came & properly killed it all off. I don’t know what it’s going to be like now going forward, but it’ll be someone else’s turn to document whatever that is.

What do you think makes a good photograph? 

You need to have a good eye. You need to notice & be aware of the world around you. You always see an image before you create one. You don’t require expensive equipment. Mine never was. And you don’t need to be trained. It’s one of those areas where you really can educate yourself. A certain amount of technique and technical understanding goes a long way but, again, you can pick those things up as you go along.

There are different kinds of photography, of course, but for me it was always about capturing a moment. The Decisive Moment, as Cartier-Bresson so eloquently put it. It’s something that the camera has over the canvas. For me the camera has always been a time machine. Like an evocative love song on the radio, it can transport you back immediately to a time & place long gone. It also acts as a witness for those people who were not there. Images tell stories. And we all like to hear and tell stories.

A couple of years ago I was invited to talk at the University of Lancaster for a symposium on documentary photography, which is a tradition that I had always considered my photographs sat within. But oddly, as I gave my slide-show presentation, images that I have seen and shown many times before, and thought I knew very well, I suddenly saw in a brand-new light. I could see myself in every image. Almost like a self-portrait from which I was absent but my own shadow cast large. I realised that I haven’t been documenting anything other than my own life. 25 year old images suddenly had something new to say, something new to tell me.

Do you still take photos today? What kind of things are you into shooting these days?

I don’t really do a lot of photography these days. I teach and facilitate as part of my job now. I still do the odd event but night club photography is a much younger man’s game. I really don’t have the levels of commitment, energy or enthusiasm I once did. I feel like I’ve taken enough images. If I never took another photograph ever again, that’s OK. Maybe, perhaps, I’ll get into a different kind of image making in my twilight years … but for now I’m trying to reassess the images I made 25 years ago. People are far more interested in them now than they ever were at the time. Now they have become documents of a time and place which has gone. The graffiti and the walls that they were written on have disappeared. Many of those night clubs have closed. Time moves on. The images and the memories are all that is left.

Over all those years, how has the art of photography changed for you?

Back when I started taking photographs, where I lived in Hulme, the kind of music that I was into, the magic of a night club moment, there were very few people I knew of who were doing the same thing. Now I am aware of others who were. Almost everyone is their own photographer now. Mobile phones & social media have given a platform for anyone to make & share images of their individual lives, whether it be their friends & families, holidays, public events or more private & intimate moments. Anyone can document their own lives now, so I no longer feel that I have to. I do still love photography, it’s still my favourite form of art, but I don’t feel compelled to capture it all anymore.

I suppose I’ve pestered you with questions for a while now. Have you got any wise words to wind this up with?

If you want to become a photographer you must learn your craft. Keep doing it, and you will get better. But you must remember to always be honest. Make honest images. Listen to the voice of your own integrity. Don’t worry too much if no-one sees any value in what you do. If you’re any good people will eventually see it. It may take years, it did for me, but images of the ordinary & everyday will one day become historical, meaningful & extraordinary.

We live in a world today mediated by images, a Society of the Spectacle, but we still need photographers: People who have a good eye, an innate feel for the decisive moment; what to point the camera at and when to press the shutter. The images that you make today will be the memories of the future.

See more of Al’s photos here.

#Photography #Interview #Al Baker #Manchester #Hulme Crescents

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letterboxd · 3 years

Photo

Heart Beat.

Minari’s film composer Emile Mosseri (also responsible for the Kajillionaire and The Last Black Man in San Francisco scores) tells Ella Kemp about his A24 favorites, Nicholas Britell’s friendship and the boldest Paul McCartney needle drop in movie history.

What do you think a broken heart sounds like? How about a warm, beating one? It’s something that Emile Mosseri has been thinking about for a while now. The past two years have seen him complete a hat-trick of beguiling, transporting scores for Plan B movies: Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails’ The Last Black Man in San Francisco, Miranda July’s Kajillionaire and now, the film voted the best of 2020 by our community, Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari.

What binds these scores together is a delicacy that knows when to break free and turn into something altogether spectacular. But on Minari in particular, Mosseri is in full bloom, working for the first time in a way he’d always dreamed about. While The Last Black Man in San Francisco saw him compose to a loose edit, and on Kajillionaire he worked to a locked cut, Chung gave him the freedom to write music directly to Minari’s script. “It was a dream to work this way on Minari,” Mosseri says. “It was so beautifully written and so visceral.”

‘Minari’ composer Emile Mosseri.

Minari is an intimate portrait of a Korean family making their way in rural America, and the composer was interested in “trying to figure out musically how you can feel connected to your deepest childhood memories”. These memories belong, in the film, to David—a tiny king played by eight-year-old Alan Kim—as he comes to terms with his new life on a small farm in Arkansas, as his family strives for their own version of the American Dream.

The Yi family is made up of David and his sister Anne (Noel Kate Cho), their parents Monica (Han Ye-ri) and Jacob (Steven Yeun) and their grandmother, Soon-ja (Youn Yuh-jung). It’s a personal story for Chung, one that Mosseri felt honored to be a part of. “It’s a very intimate story with these five characters, which takes place mostly in this small mobile home—but emotionally, it’s very epic.”

There was something about Chung that had caught Mosseri’s attention early on. “I had met him at the LA premiere of Last Black Man,” Mosseri says, “and I sent him the Kajillionaire score.” Mosseri was already familiar with the filmmaker’s work: “His first film, Munyurangabo, is incredible.” He calls Chung “very open, but also sly” in terms of hitting the right notes and “gently steering the ship”. The partnership between composer and director was about working on “a more emotional level,” Mosseri says. “There was never any talk about what we wanted stylistically.”

The ‘Minari’ ensemble cast.

The result is a film graced with music at once lush and raw, grandiose and vulnerable. Mosseri is keenly aware of these nuances, and always made sure to walk the tonal tightrope in the writing process. “There aren’t sad cues and hopeful cues,” he explains. “Every cue has both feelings. Each musical moment dips in and out of the hopefulness and joy of a family, and then the pain and frustration and dissonance that they hold.”

The way Mosseri’s music swells and flows often feels intangible, magical, even—which comes more from knowing what to avoid, rather than acting with too much forced intention. On his first film, Mosseri brought brass and strings to the streets of San Francisco, and with Miranda July, he worked old Hollywood glamor into the concrete blocks of Los Angeles. Here, we twirl through the tall grass as gentle acoustic guitars and elegant string sections sigh and sway, while the Yi family work through their growing pains.

“We didn’t want to hear Korean music when you see Korean characters, and we didn’t want twangy music when you see an American farm,” Mosseri explains. “We wanted to come at it from the side somehow, in some way that’s unexpected.” ‘Rain’, his collaboration with Minari star Han Ye-ri, which features on the official soundtrack, encapsulates this juxtaposition. It’s an epic lullaby of sorts; Han sings in Korean to a gentle guitar; a pleasing swell of synths climbs alongside her voice. The effect on the listener is as if liquid love is trickling from every vein. “I wanted this score to feel like it had a warm, beating heart.”

youtube

Two of your three feature films to date have been released by A24, and so we must ask: what are your favorite A24 film scores? Emile Mosseri: Three come to mind. First of all, Anna Meredith’s score for Eighth Grade. It’s so adventurous and unexpected and fresh and just brilliant. It’s so pure and out-there. It also does this impossible thing of being hip and exciting and deep, but also hilarious. The pool-party scene fucking kills me.

Then there’s Under the Skin by Mica Levi. I remember seeing that at the Nighthawk theater in Brooklyn and feeling like it was the best score I’d heard in as long as I could remember.

And then of course, Moonlight. That film got under my skin in a way I didn’t see coming. I saw it by myself in a theater, after hearing all the hype for months and months. When a movie has that much hype you can get a bit cynical and it can distract you, so I went in a bit guarded, but I left the film destroyed. For weeks and weeks it resonated with me in a way that was so profound, and a large part of that is due to Nick [Britell]’s music. And the film is just perfection.

Scarlett Johansson in ‘Under the Skin’ (2013), scored by Mica Levi.

You’ve been described as Nicholas Britell’s protégé more than once… It’s funny, I think that came from me being a fan of his and saying nice things about his music. I met him at Sundance two years ago when Last Black Man was premiering. I went with my wife and my brother and I was so excited, I’d been waiting for this moment for so long. We walked in and Nick and Barry [Jenkins] were walking in behind [us]. And there was also Boots Riley, Kamasi Washington… all these people I looked up to. I hadn’t considered that I would see this film in the room with them, and it was the first time I was hearing the final mix and just agonizing.

Nick was incredibly generous and said great things about the score and was super encouraging, and he became a friend and mentor. But I’ve never studied with him or worked with him. Although, if you’re a fan of somebody’s work, you’re a student of any of these composers that you admire. Anything you watch and listen to, you absorb.

What was the first film that made you want to be a composer? It was Edward Scissorhands. Danny Elfman’s score was the first one that made me realize that this was a job. I’m always attracted to big, romantic melodies, and over-the-top sweeping stuff—but done tastefully. In that score, he sets the high-water mark for me. It’s so unapologetically romantic.

And then there are other obvious ones like The Godfather. It’s maybe a dorky choice because it’s the most famous movie ever, but it really is the best. And that got me into Nino Rota, and from there I found [Federico] Fellini and all these movies through Nino, the composer. And then I got really into the score for La Dolce Vita and more movies that he’d written for, which are so beautiful.

The ‘Edward Scissorhands’ (1990) score was an early inspiration for Mosseri.

Which films, new to you, blew you away in 2020? Take Shelter by Jeff Nichols blew me away. It unfolded in a way that was intoxicating and really exciting, and it just really stuck with me.

What’s been your favorite needle drop on screen this year? Aside from Devonté Hynes’ score being stunning, there’s an amazing piece of music placed in an episode of Luca Guadagnino’s We Are Who We Are. They use a Paul McCartney song called ‘Let Em In’, and they dropped it in this incredibly tasteful but unexpected way, in a really dark, emotionally loaded scene. It worked in such a beautiful and graceful way. It’s because it’s the most cheery McCartney, it’s full-blown upbeat and poppy McCartney. And this is the darkest-of-the-dark human pain, and it lands in this way that is such a bold choice, such a powerful move.

What should people listen to after watching Minari? One record I’ve been listening to a lot recently is Jeff Tweedy’s Love is the King. It could be a good companion to Minari. I’m a huge fan of his and it’s a gorgeous record. It’s very stripped-down and emotionally raw, and it’s both hopeful and heartbreaking.

Which filmmakers would you love to work with next? I’m always afraid to answer this question because there are so many filmmakers I admire. There are filmmakers I grew up with loving their films—working with Miranda was that for me. Spike Jonze or Yorgos Lanthimos are directors in her world that I also love and would love to work with. But there’s so many others. Derek Cianfrance is amazing and he works with different composers. I love his choice of collaborators musically. I love that he used the late great Harold Budd to do his shows [including I Know This Much is True], and then Mike Patton, and Grizzly Bear… the music is always incredible in his projects, but he doesn’t have a go-to person. His films are so heartbreaking and powerful and really, really raw. He’s fearless.

I feel very lucky that I’ve worked on these three films which are all very much like somebody’s ripping their heart out and putting it on the screen. I feel like Derek Cianfrance does that in his films too, in this unapologetic, super-vulnerable way of just ripping his soul out and putting it out for everyone to see. It’s incredibly appealing to find those projects, because they’re really rare.

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Follow Ella on Letterboxd

‘Minari’ is available everywhere in the US that movies can be rented, and screening in select theaters in the US and other regions. Listen to the official soundtrack and more of Mosseri’s film compositions in the official Spotify playlist via Milan Records. ‘Kajillionaire’ is available on VOD now.

#minari #letterboxd year in review #kajillionaire #the last black man in san francisco #emile mosseri #miranda july #lee isaac chung #a24 #a25 films #film composer #film soundtrack #film score #derek cianfrance #nicholas britell #nino rota #letterboxd

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rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 3) John Deacon x Reader Series

Meant to get this out last night but I’m on call 24/7 for my job so ya know, life.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, you know the deal. Feelings of anxiety. Slightly sexual dialogue. Reader is kinda horny? Misogynistic comments towards reader.

Chapter Notes: I may have written out an ENTIRE episode of Pop Quiz before realizing that shoving music facts down your throats isn’t the best use of our time. Apologies if it got a bit disjointed in the trimming process. I work in TV so I just had to add in a cliche meet-cute. Sorry not sorry.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye

April 1982 - BBC Studios, London

“It’s not funny, Y/N! Stop laughing. You’re gonna ruin all my hard work!” Dawn chastises you as she sweeps a pale blue eye shadow across your lids, trying her best to complete your request to tone down your usual stage look.

You try to muffle your laughter, teetering on your chair set up in the spacious green room. It comes out as a wheeze, a soft whistle escaping through your nose. “I’m sorry, you said what!?”

“I kid you not, I took one look at his penis and said ‘What the fuck is that?”

A sharp laugh escapes from your mouth once again, failing miserably to prevent tears from leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

“I feel awful! It’s just that I had never seen one before,” Dawn whines.

“Okay, I know for a fact that’s not the first dick you’ve seen. Hell, even I’ve seen some of those. Like ships passing in the night as they raced out of your dorm bed,” you giggle.

“You know what I mean. I’ve never been with one that’s… intact.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh c’mon. Uncircumcised can’t be that different.”

“It wasn’t! I was just drunk and got spooked, I guess. It was actually kinda cute. Like it was wearing a little turtleneck or something.”

You lose it, yet again. Laughter falls freely from your lips, helping to alleviate the dreaded stress that has now become your constant companion these days. Appearing on a game show alone was not something you thought you’d have to tackle on your third day in London. You’re sure the boys were off exploring the sprawling city that none of you had stepped foot in prior to the trip.

Pop Quiz was apparently a big hit for the BBC, featuring a bevy of famous musicians battling out their knowledge of the industry. You’d never had the chance to watch, obviously not readily available to viewers back home, but a harried man had come in earlier to give you a basic rundown of the format. You were somewhat confident in your knowledge of music, having been a regular at your hometown’s local record shop, you just hoped it would be enough to keep you from making a fool out of yourself in front of an entire country. But your anxiety mostly stemmed from your upcoming appearance in front of the camera without the boys there to play off of.

“How was it, though? I heard they’re supposed to “feel better” or something like that,” your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ooo, was it curved? Sometimes that can be a great thing. Except for one I encountered that was going in the opposite way then you’d think. Like even it knew it should be running away from the dude.”

Dawn’s face screws into a pinch, “Was that Tyler... Wait, don’t tell me. Ew. And I wouldn’t know! The poor guy was so embarrassed he couldn’t even keep it up after that!”

“What a waste,” you sigh. “I thought I’d be at least getting some field research out of your antics. What did I even bring you to London for?” you joke as she holds a tissue out to blot your lips.

“Uh-huh. The day you do some “field research” of your own is the day I chop off my own hair,” she quips, narrowing her eyes at you.

You casually raise your right hand to flip her off. She wasn’t wrong; it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, let alone entertained the fact of jumping into a relationship. There were partners in the past, of course. A few geeky high school boys, a woman who worked at said hometown record store, and the occasional pretentious film kid while at NYU, who spoke condescendingly of women working in film but scratched an itch when needed.

“And there’s no time like the present! You know what they say. When in Britain…” Dawn trails off, failing to finish her bit.

You left eyebrow quirks, “Throw dental hygiene standards out the window?”

Her face twists in disgust again as she uncaps a can of Aqua Net. “Gross. Now close your eyes and shut up so I can be done with you.”

The spray sputters, emitting little from it. “Dammnit,” she curses, turning to rummage around her sprawling kit. “Of course, I didn’t pack a spare. I’ll be right back. Hopefully, their hair department has one we can borrow.”

She rushes from the room in a sweeping motion, knocking over a coffee that was precariously placed on your chair’s armrest in the process.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, jumping up, your white blouse now doused in caffeine.

You hurry to jog out of the room, trying to catch up with her. “Daw- Shit!”

Your face collides with a hard chest.

Two large hands grip your shoulders to stop your momentum. “Oh! Apologies,” comes a light voice from above, muffled by your full head of ringlets. You jerk your head away quickly, and your gaze lands on a pair of startled greyish, green eyes.

“S-sorry,” you stutter out. “Completely my fault.” You glance down to the hands that still rest on your shoulders for a moment before looking back up. The pair of eyes go wide, and the hands quickly retreat back to the man’s side.

The man being the bassist of Queen, John Deacon. You scold yourself for only having glanced at the day’s detailed itinerary this morning before heading out. How did I miss that one? Sweat begins to gather on your palms immediately.

“John Deacon,” he hesitantly smiles at you while extending a hand.

“Y/N L/N,” you squeak out as his hand engulfs yours, inwardly cringing at how moist it must feel. You hold it for a bit too long. “I’m one of the contestants on Team A today,” you yank your hand back to your side.

His brow knit together. “Oh? I was told I’d be with Nick Rhodes and Jon Moss today.”

You shift your weight uncomfortably from side to side, having yet to meet his eyes again. “Nick had to cancel, I believe. I’m a last-minute replacement.”

“Okay,” he replies with a tight smile. “Well, good then. I hope you’re ready,” he glances down, noticing the stain splashed across your top. “Or, at least close to it...”

“Huh?” you blurt out before realizing, looking down at your shirt. “Oh, yes. The reason I so rudely ran into you. I should go-” your eye catches something as they finally travel back up to his. “Aw, fuck.”

“Pardon?”

You grimace, pointing directly at his chest. Right to the giant imprint on his tight blue shirt. One that had been left by your bright red lipstick.

He follows your finger. “Ah! Will you look at that.”

“I am so, so sorry,” you rush out, absolute mortification seeping into your voice.

He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “Not to worry. That’s what jackets are for,” he says, zipping up the oversized grey jacket slung around his shoulders. “And at least now I know this shade of red really isn’t my colour.”

You smile up at him, not really knowing what else to say—the full weight of your not-so-smooth first encounter with this man hitting you fast, as people squeezed around you two in the tight hallway. “I should go get fixed up,” you tell him, pointing your thumb back over your shoulder towards your dressing room, ready to make a quick exit.

“Alright. I’ll see you out there then. Cheers!” he smiles back with a wave of his hand, turning to find his own space to get ready.

You stand there watching him in a daze, mentally berating yourself for now having had two inappropriate run-ins with a member of Queen.

Dawn materializes into your field of vision, hands-on-hips.

“Honestly, what the hell. I left you alone for two minutes!”

- - - - - - -

20 minutes later, you follow a stagehand through the back of the soundstage, fidgeting with your outfit while trying not to crash into anyone else. Dawn’s top that she quickly switched with your own was cut much lower than you would’ve liked and left you feeling even more exposed than your current bout of nerves did.

You’re dumped onto the set with the point of a finger over to a tall man. Mike Read, the host of Pop Quiz, stands by a large desk, crew members bustling around him. You stick to your spot out of the way, not sure if to interrupt the conversation he’s currently having to introduce yourself.

You take in the spacious stage, never having been on a show of this size before. A wave of longing suddenly washes over you, yearning for days on set where you were a part of the crew that moved around you. While at school, you’d worked on several student films, usually as a 1st Assistant Director or Line Producer. You loved the pace of production. Keeping everyone on time, on budget. It was where you felt most confident. While there were a variety of different types of personalities on set, you found it exhilarating to be the one to settle disputes and help everyone stay on track. Your subtle superpower of putting out little fires everywhere you went. Never had it crossed your mind that you’d be on the other side of the camera one day.

“A change of wardrobe, I see,” a voice says from behind you, pulling you out of your daydream. You turn to catch John’s smirk, his eyes trained intentionally on your own.

“It would appear so,” you reply, glancing down at yourself quickly.

“Have you been introduced to Mike yet?”

“Nope. I was working up the courage,” you admit.

“C’mon,” he gestures for you to follow him as he strolls towards the man. “He doesn’t bite.” You follow, trailing behind his long strides as he daintily weaves between the many bodies in your path.

“John!” Mike exclaims as you both approach. “Good to see you, mate,” he claps him on the back.

“You too. Thanks for having me back,” John greets him cheerily. “And look, I brought a present. All the way from America, I’m assuming. Mike, this is--”

“Y/N L/N!” Mike says, a genuine smile forming. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that we fit you in.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m excited to be here,” you mumble as he brings you in for a hug.

“Can I just say, your video for Heart of the Night is absolutely outrageous. I thought my eyes were going to pop out my head when I’d learnt that MTV in the States had aired it,” he laughs. “Daring stuff, really.”

You feel a heat creeping up your neck as you try to accept the compliment. “Yeah, thanks. Glad to hear that you’re all a bit more relaxed in terms of watching the explicit murder of a teenage girl on your screens.” You immediately wince at your own bluntness.

You can’t help but peek over at John, curious if he’d seen the violent clip now making its rounds across UK television sets everywhere. He’s staring at you with eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open slightly.

Great. He thinks I’m a lunatic.

“We certainly are!” Mike chuckles. “Have you been briefed on the logistics of how the taping will go?”

“Mhmm, I got the rundown from one of your producers.”

“Excellent. Well, you’ll be in good hands with John here heading your team,” he says, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulders and adjusting his large glasses with the other.

Good hands indeed, you think to yourself, remembering how large they felt when they gripped your shoulders earlier. No, stop that, you scold yourself.

“We’ll be getting started in just a few minutes if you’d both like to find your seats. And you’ll have to regale me with the gory details from that shoot of yours afterward,” he winks, gesturing towards your spots for the show. You turn to follow John to your side of the set.

“Oh, and Y/N!” Mike calls out. “I do hope you’re good. Deacon got absolutely spanked last time he was on.” You bring your hand up to your face to stifle your giggle. John makes a show of rolling his eyes but keeps walking. You notice his face is now tinged a lovely shade of pink.

“You must think I’m daft,” he says, turning to you slightly.

“Me? Oh no, I’m sure we’ll do great!” you reply, a bit too happily.

“No, no, not that,” he laughs lightly, his hand finding the back of his neck. “For not recognizing you during our... colourful meeting in the hallway. It seems you and your band left quite the impression on our dear Freddie.”

“Oh! That’s nice to hear. You can tell him he left quite the impression on us as well, but I’m sure he makes an impression on most everyone,” you shrug. “And don’t worry about it, please. It’s not as if I’m a part of the biggest band in Britain or anything,” you tease. He smiles shyly. You catch the crinkles on the outer corners of his eyes before he turns them downwards.

You reach the long table on your designated side of the studio. There’s one on the other side mirroring it, with three somewhat familiar faces already sitting behind it. You glance at the empty seats before you, moving hesitantly towards them until John pulls out the closest chair, gesturing for you to sit. He gingerly pushes it under you as you lower yourself down.

“Thanks,” you mumble. He nods and moves to sit beside you.

There’s a loud bang to your right, causing you both to jump and look to the source; a large Grip gingerly picks up the c-stand he’s knocked over. John hovers above his chair, watching on as a producer shouts at the poor man, his waist now at your eye line.

You had never understood the fascination with men’s butts. That is, until now. The tight jeans John had on left little to the imagination. As if that would stop you. You shake your head back and forth as if to clear your thoughts. All of Dawn’s talk earlier must have you seriously whacked out.

“Are you alright?” John asks, now situated in his seat.

“Hm?” you break out of your daze. “Yes, fine. It’s just- I haven’t done anything like this,” you gesture to the large room teeming with various crew and a studio audience, “before, on my own. Usually we’re all together, and I’m slightly less charismatic than the rest of them, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I would tell you that it’ll get easier, but I still feel like I’m rubbish without my lot as well,” he sympathies. “And I happen to find you quite charismatic as you are,” he adds softly. “You certainly had Mike going back there.”

“Oh boy,” a voice huffs from the other end of the table, drawing away John’s attention. You’re thankful for the distraction, finding yourself at a loss for words due to his comment, coupled with your previous thoughts.

“I see you two actually arrived on time, ya goodie-two-shoes,” the flamboyant man complains as he plops into the third and final seat at the table.

“Jon, welcome. Good to see you,” John acknowledges, shaking the man’s hand.

“And who’s this little thing at the end, then?” he points at you.

John’s expression turns slightly sour at the informal greeting directed towards you. “This is Y/N L/N of Lo & The…” he struggles to remember, “Legs?”

You bark out a laugh. “The Limbs. But The Legs sounds better actually.” You share a smile, holding onto John’s eyes even though it makes your insides flip.

An outstretched hand is shoved past his body. “Jon Norris. Drummer. Culture Club.” You accidentally brush John’s arm as you move to return the handshake, not missing how he jumps a bit at the contact. “Pleasure,” reply, tearing your eyes away.

The drummer retracts his hand, settling back to swing his shoes up onto the table. “I’m glad to have a bird on the team, actually. Maybe we’ll get a few extra points thrown our way for that tiny top of yours,” he smirks, not even glancing over in your direction.

You look down at your slightly exposed chest, but the color red quickly clouds your vision. John sucks in a breath as he sits up straight in his chair. “That’s a bit ru-,” he starts in an annoyed tone.

But you’re quick to cut in, leaning your body forward on the table to lock eyes with Jon, “Actually, we might get docked a few for that obnoxious suit you’ve got on. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that stripes bleed on camera, sweetheart?” you seeth.

He glances down at his bright pink and green striped suit, clearly taken aback by your quick comeback. “N-no…” he falters, shutting up for the moment.

You catch John’s expression, a mixture of confusion and awe while he gapes at you. You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. Luckily you don’t have much time to stew over the misogynistic comment as the stage manager’s voice rings out a 10-minute warning.

“Just try not to show me up too much, would you?” John whispers, leaning in closer to you. Obviously, trying to lighten your mood.

You give in. “You, sir, are lucky to have me on your team,” you point at him. “Tell me, what’s more important? The scoreboard or your fragile ego?” You’re not sure where your sudden wave of confidence is coming from.

He brings his hand to his chest. “You caught me,” he says, trying to hide his smile. “One could say I’m overcompensating, given who my bandmates are. Roger’s won this twice already, and it only started airing last year. I’ll never hear the end of it if I muck it up again.”

“Well then, I’ll do my best to save your sorry ass, and maybe that one down there too, if he’s lucky,” you tease.

Great. Now I’m thinking about his ass again. Fuck you, Dawn.

“If you’d be so kind,” he says before turning his attention elsewhere, content to watch the happenings around him until the show’s start. You hear him start to softly hum to himself, not able to place what the tune is.

You try not to watch him out of your peripherals for the next few minutes, hardly even noticing your lack of nerves as the studio audience starts cheering.

- - - - - - -

“And to end out round one, we have Adam Ant’s team with 3 points. And with a slight lead, John Deacon’s team with 4.” The studio audience erupts in a deafening cheer. “That’ll bring us into round two, which will be a team question. John, your team to go first,” Mike directs from his desk in the center of the set.

John lightly taps his pencil against the notepad in front of him, the current tight score starting to bring about his competitive side. He peeks over to check on his teammates. Y/N looks like a radiating ball of energy. Her feet are tucked up under her on the chair as she hunches forward, pencil already hovering while her teeth chew on the eraser. To his right, Jon doodles away, drawing exaggerated characachers of select members of the studio audience.

“Right, question coming to you in a moment, but first here’s the band, The Band.”

A large monitor towards the front of the set comes to life with a clip from their concert film, The Last Waltz. The chair to his left gives a loud squeak as Y/N begins to scribble furiously as if already knowing the question before it’s been given.

“Here’s a clip from The Last Waltz, The Band’s famous taped last concert. Please name 10 of the 20 rock legends that joined them on stage that night.”

John’s face scrunches in concentration, trying to recall the recording of it that he’d listened to many times before. He writes down the first few that come to mind, struggling to get past 6 names that he’s sure were present.

“Bloody American bands and they’re American friends,” Jon says, shoving his own piece of paper into John’s view. It has 4 names on it, 3 of which John already has down.

“They’re Canadian,” John replies, transferring the extra name to his paper.

“What?”

“The Band. They’re from Canada, I believe. At least most of them are.” Jon shrugs as the clip fades out, their minute of deliberation up.

“Alright, that was The Band with a famous clip from The Last Waltz. If you’d please, John, name 10 of the acts that accompanied them that night.”

A sheet of paper smoothly glides in front of his, Y/N’s messy scrawl covering it with 10 names hastily jotted down. He raises his eyebrows to her, but she just nods at the paper, urging him to read it.

He starts, completely disregarding his own list. “Erm, yes, we have Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Dr. John, Van Morrison, Ronnie Hawkins, Neil Young, Bobby Charles” he struggles to read the small scribbling, almost illegible. “Um, Muddy Waters? Yes. And Neil Diamond.”

John lets out a breath, silently praying that the young girl beside him is as bright as she seems.

“Right you are! 10/10,” Mike exclaims. “For a bonus point, can you name the two artists that recorded pre-taped performances with them for the film as well?”

“Uh…” John glances at Y/N for support. She shoves another scrap of paper to him. Emmylou and Staples the only thing written on it.

“Emmylou Harris and The Staples Singers?” he answers, more like a question.

“Wonderful, a full 4 points to you all.”

He watches as a deep grin breaks onto Y/N’s face as she finally reclines. She looks over to him, a bit proud of herself, he thinks, as the other team begins their own round of questioning.

He’s quite intimidated by the American next to him if he’s being honest with himself. Her anxious demeanor seemed to have vanished into thin air once the game started, tackling each question thrown at their team with a hungry reverence. But her laugh is what keeps him on edge the most. It’s brash and full, consistently breaking him from his determined concentration to send a confusing jolt through his body each time.

“While your knowledge reigns superior, your handwriting leaves something to be desired,” he whispers in jest, not being able to help himself. She simulates a shocked expression as she leans over to look at her own paper that sits in front of him.

Her accent is thicker as she returns his whisper, “What ya tawking about?” She moves her eyes closer to examine, her shoulder bumping his. “That clearly says Muddy Waters.” Her hair hovers below his chin, almost tickling his stubble. It smells of something citrusy and light.

“Y’ smell lovely,” he sighs, almost inaudibly.

“Hm?” she questions, bringing her body back into her own seat.

“E-ever-ly,” He stumbles out, still quietly. “I thought it read it as the Everly Brothers at first,” hoping to god his bad save is enough.

She snorts. “You sure you didn’t leave your glasses at home? Would’ve thought you’d bring them to something like this.”

He quickly fixes the flustered look on his face, “Hm, glasses aren’t conducive to my rockstar type of lifestyle. Take Rog, for instance. Always wearing those bloody prescription sunglasses indoors, looking like an absolute git.”

She lets out that sharp laugh again, immediately covering her mouth, embarrassed at the thought of interrupting the other team. “I’ll have to watch out for that. Eat my carrots, all that nonsense,” she answers softly. If Brian were here, he’d ramble on about how there’s no scientific evidence of that or some bollocks, he thinks to himself.

“Let us hope my ears are in far better condition. Then you won’t have to keep, how did you put it, saving our sorry asses?” She smiles down into her lap and bites her lip. Oh hell, don’t do that.

Mike is now wrapping up with the other team. “No, I’m sorry. Their other top 10 hit was “So You Win Again. 3 points it is.” He once again turns his attention back over to John’s team. “Moving on to our third round, we have individual questions. Y/N, we’ll start with you. Here’s the hit Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye. Please name the artists you hear in order.”

The sound bites begin, and Y/N is once again bent over her paper as she listens, brow furrowing. John identifies the first two singers instantly but is at a loss for the third, making him grateful the question isn’t his. The clips fade out.

“Y/N?”

“I think it was Glen Campbell.”

“Correct.”

“Johnny Nash.”

“Good. Last one?”

“And... Bettye Swann?”

“Yes, top job! Known for her R&B hit Make Me Yours. I’ll give you a bonus if you can tell me who the song was sung by originally,” Mike counters.

“The Casino’s,” she says confidently.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll give you one more chance.”

John realizes she was probably too young or not even born yet when the original was released. He slyly slides closer to her. “Don Cherry,” he mumbles lowly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Don Cherry?” she shouts as if to cover up his assistance.

“Yes, John Deacon, you’re right. It is Don Cherry. The point is yours for at least attempting to be subtle,” Mike laughs. Y/N shyly smiles over at him, silently thanking him for his help.

John and Jon mostly breeze through their questions with ease, racking up a hefty amount of points in favor of their team before turning over to the others. He takes a sip of water as he smugly watches on.

“Glad to know my own ass is in good hands if it’s ever in need of saving again,” Y/N quietly comments. He chokes lightly on his water as an image flashes quickly through his mind. John racks his brain for a reply, but only overtly cheeky responses come to mind.

“Anytime,” he manages, afraid to catch her eyes. She lets out a light giggle, starkly different from her usual roar. It sends a warmth of color to his cheeks.

Intriguing, he thinks, silently hoping that he’ll get the chance to hear it again.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #angelofmydreams

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stylesnews · 4 years

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In a decade, Harry Styles has gone from teenage heartthrob to a global pop star in his own right. As he's distanced himself from his adolescent years as a member of One Direction, he's become his own person, starring in the 2017 blockbuster Dunkirk, hosting Saturday Night Live and creating music that pulls from a variety of influences.

Styles released his second solo album Fine Line late last year, and in addition to showcasing some of those influences and his talents as a songwriter, it was also a huge commercial success, with the biggest U.S. sales week for a British male artist since Eric Clapton's Unplugged in 1992.

But Styles says he spent a lot of time rethinking his idea of success after touring his self-titled album. "I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy," he says.

NPR's Mary Louise Kelly spoke to Harry Styles about his love of Fleetwood Mac and finding freedom in the music of the '70s, what he would say to his 16-year-old self and nail polish. Listen in the player above and read on for a transcript of their full conversation.

Mary Louise Kelly: Your most recent album seems tied up in the '70s, which is a decade you didn't actually live through. What is it about that era that draws you in?

There's a freedom in the music that is so inspiring. If you go back and listen to so much of that music, and you listen to songs from [Carole King's] Tapestry and Harry Nilsson songs, they sound so fresh. I think it's crazy that something that was made so long ago, you can listen to it now and be like "I want my drums to sound like these drums, and I want my strings to sound like these strings." I think that's really incredible. And I think it's just the freedom, it's people doing what they wanted to do. Obviously, the music business has changed so much since then — there was a lot more of everybody hanging out together and playing songs, and I feel like music is a lot more competitive now.

And is it maybe a little more produced now? Less organic?

I think we just have different technology. When we came to do my first solo album, I had this thing where I wanted to do everything to tape. And then I kind of realized that The Beatles didn't use tape because it was really cool to use, they used it because it was the best technology they had [at the time] and it sounded the best. And now we just have different ways of recording stuff and you can make stuff sound really nice — so we kind of abandoned the tape thing. Overall what draws me to that time with music is just the freedom.

Was making Fine Line sound like the music of the '70s a conscious choice?

I'm not listening to stuff so much anymore being like "I just want my stuff to sound like this." You grow up listening to what your parents listen to. For me it was the [Rolling] Stones, Beatles, Fleetwood [Mac], a lot of Queen, Elvis Presley, Shania Twain, Savage Garden, Norah Jones. That was kind of like the base of what my first experience with music was, and I feel like you can't help but have a lot of references from what you grew up listening to [in your own music].

Speaking of Fleetwood Mac, I saw you've gotten to know and work with Stevie Nicks. What's that like, to get to know someone who was the soundtrack of your childhood and go out on stage with them?

It borders on an out-of-body experience. "Dreams" was the first song I knew all the words to; I used to sing it in the car with my mom. Every time I'm with her, you want to be, obviously, present, right? I'm trying to enjoy being with her and soaking in. But I think at the same time, while you're in the room with her, I'm sitting there thinking about being 10-years-old and singing the song.

Does it matter if you're super famous yourself?

I don't think so, because ultimately we're all humans. It's not like paralyzing starstruck, it's more like I try and appreciate what my 10-year-old self would think of it. I think ultimately you meet [other famous people] and you're kind of in awe of them, but at the same time you get to hang out with them on this human level, where you're just talking and it's really amazing.

Those are the moments that kind of mean the most because it's real. And when everything else about being in music goes away, that's the stuff that I think you end up telling your grandkids. For example, with Stevie, my favorite moments about it aren't usually the show, it's the practicing. When we first played together, it was at the Troubadour — famously, where Elton John did his first U.S. show — and it was an amazing moment, but my favorite was soundchecking. It's like four people in there and just us singing in the empty Troubadour. For me, that's a moment that I'm going to hold on to.

Speaking of moments where you wish you could tell your younger self "Buddy, you have no idea": 10 years ago when you auditioned for the British reality show X Factor, the judge Simon Cowell asked you "What do you want to do with your life, what are your future plans?" You said you were going back to college in the fall to study "law, sociology, business and something else, but I'm not sure yet."

There's a lot of us who wanted to be a rock star and ended up being lawyers. You've gone the other way. Is it funny listening back to yourself? What do you wish you could tell your 16-year-old self?

I guess like "Don't worry." In the early years, I spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen and getting things wrong and saying the wrong thing and doing the wrong thing. I'm trying to let go of the worrying thing, and that's what I've loved the most about this album, rather than the first one. I think I had a lot of fear — whether it was conscious or subconsciously — just about getting it wrong. When I listen back to the first album now, although I still love it so much, I feel like I was almost bowling with the bumpers up a little bit. I can hear places where I was playing it safe.

When I listen back to the first album now, although I still love it so much, I feel like I was almost bowling with the bumpers up a little bit. I can hear places where I was playing it safe.

I think with this one, after touring with an album that wasn't necessarily a radio record and people came to see the show, I realized that the only thing that people really want is for you to do what you want to do. Ultimately, I think if people believe in you, you can make a bad record, you can make a bad song, and people will still come to a show if they're interested and they want to come see you. I think the only time people go "You know what? I'm done with this," is when it stops being authentic. You can't really blame people for that. If there's an artist I loved and I felt like they were faking it, I can't say that I'd keep going to the shows. I think that was a big thing for me, just trying to worry less. The worst thing that can happen is that I make a record that I think everybody else wants to hear, and then it doesn't do well. And you sit there going "Well I wish I'd just made the record that I wanted to make." I think if you're making what you want to make, then ultimately no one can tell you you're unsuccessful, because you're doing what makes you happy. That's the biggest thing that I learned this time.

You dress amazingly. You wear suits, but they're patterned and florals and you had that blouse that got all the attention at last year's Met Gala. I noticed you're wearing nail polish, and you do wear clothing that blurs traditional lines sometimes. What are you hoping people take from that? Is it just "This is what I want to wear, deal with it" or are you trying to send any kind of message?

For me, it's not like doing it to send a message. Part of being on the last tour, when people came to watch the show, I realized "Oh, these people just want to see me be myself, and I'm telling them to be themselves." And I just didn't want to be a hypocrite. I do it when I'm not working, so to me it doesn't feel like it's "Oh, I'm sending a message with my nail polish." I just put a lot less weight behind it, I think. And sometimes I forget, because I'll go somewhere and someone will be like "Have you got nail polish on?" I'm lucky that I work in an industry that allows you to be creative and express yourself, and I'd encourage it to anybody.

Can you tell us about a favorite song on the album?

My two favorite songs on this album are probably "Cherry" and "Fine Line." "Cherry" is the fifth song on the album. It's one of my favorites, mostly because of how it came about. When I started making this album ... I felt like it had to be big. The last record wasn't really a radio record: The single ["Sign of the Times"] from it was a 6-minute piano ballad, so it wasn't the typical formula. So I felt a bit of pressure that I wanted to make something that worked. I was trying this stuff one night in the studio, and I was worried because I just wasn't really liking anything that I was doing. I felt like I was trying too hard. That's when I make the music that I like the least, is when I'm trying to write a pop song or I'm trying to write something fun.

Everybody left for the weekend, and it was me, Tyler Johnson, who I work with, and Sammy Witte. It was two or three in the morning, and we were having a drink and just talking. I was saying how I have all these records that I'd love to make, I love all this kind of music and in five years I want to make this kind of record, and in 10 years I want to make this kind of album, and then I'll get to make the music that I really want to make. And Tyler just said "You just have to make the music that you want to make — right now. That's the only way of doing it, otherwise you're going to regret it."

And "Cherry" was the result of that?

Yeah, so we stayed and Sammy started playing the guitar riff, and we did it through the night and recorded it. Everybody came back in the morning and listened to it ... I heard it when it was finished and was like "This is the kind of music I want to make."

How did you write "Fine Line?"

"Fine Line" I wrote [during] a gap in the tour. It was January 2018 and I was at my friend Tom's house, who I work with, and we just started strumming this thing, and we started layering these vocals, and it turned into this 6-minute thing. I had it for a long time and I kept listening to it during the tour, like I'd listen to it before I went to bed. Just sonically I loved the song, and I loved the lyrics of the song. When we wrote it, I kind of knew it was the last song of an album, and we ended up taking it to Bath, in England, where I was making this record for a while. I wanted it to turn into something else at the end, I wanted like a big crescendo ending. While we were in Bath, Sammy started playing this little thing on the piano, and I tweaked it a little bit and I was like "That has to go at the end of 'Fine Line.' " Now when I listen to it, it's one of those things where I'm just proud that it's mine, I'm so happy. It's one of those songs that I've always wanted to make.

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years

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A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE SITCOM

August 17 - 21, 2020

The series is presented on BBC Radio 4 in five 14-minute segments over five days: August 17-21, 2020.

Synopsis: The onscreen pairing of Lucille and Desi is brilliant, but the American Network is doubtful.

Written by Gregg Oppenheimer based on his book “Laughs, Luck and Lucy” Directed by Martin Jarvis Produced by Rosalind Ayres

CAST

Anne Heche (Lucille Ball / Lucy Ricardo) made her TV debut playing twins Vicki and Marley on the soap “Another World” from 1987 to 1991. Since then she has mixed TV roles with film and Broadway with equal success. Ironically, she auditioned for the role in I'm Not There (2007) that went to Cate Blanchett, who has been mentioned as the next person to play Lucille Ball on film. In 2000 Heche won a Lucy Award (named for Lucille Ball) for developing and directing the HBO movie If These Walls Could Talk 2.

Wilmer Valderrama (Desi Arnaz / Ricky Ricardo) got his start on TV playing Fez in “That ‘70s Show”. In a 2001 episode of the series, Fez dreamed he was Ricky Ricardo married to Donna (Laura Prepon). In 2008 he traveled to Lucille Ball’s hometown of Jamestown to present "A Tribute to Desi Arnaz" as part of Lucy-Desi Days. Valderrama (born in Venezuela) said he's always been inspired by Arnaz as a performer and Hispanic American. I think 'I Love Lucy' was one of the most influential pieces of work in any decade. He claims that watching sitcoms like "I Love Lucy" helped him learn English. He said it was exciting to see a Hispanic actor established on television so many decades ago and to see someone who looked and sounded a little like himself.

Jared Harris (Jess Oppenheimer) is the son of legendary Irish actor Richard Harris. In 1966, when Jared was five years old, his father and Lucille Ball both guest starred on the new “Milton Berle Show”. In addition to his many film roles, he was part of the award-winning cast of “Mad Men” and the recently acclaimed “Chernobyl.”

Alfred Molina (Harry Ackerman) was born in England in 1953 but first came to the attention of film-goers through his small role in 1981′s Raiders of the Lost Ark. He has since been successful in both comedy and drama, as well as doing voice-over for animation. Molina is now a hit with a new generation of movie fans as Doc Ock in the Spider Man films. In “Feud: Bette and Joan” he played film director Robert Aldrich, who started out as second AD on Lucille Ball’s 1942 film The Big Street.

Mike McShane (Hubbell Robinson) was born and raised in the United States, but has acted extensively on stage and screen in Great Britain. Fans of TV’s “Seinfeld” may recognize him for his two appearances as Franklin Delano Romanowski. In 2006/07 McShane voiced the ravenous plant in the London stage revival of Little Shop of Horrors. The musical famously includes a reference to Lucille Ball.

Matthew Floyd Miller (Don Sharpe) reprises the role he played in the LA TheatreWorks production of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way To the Sitcom” in 2018.

Janine Barris (Betty Garrett) was raised in Fairlawn, New Jersey. She is best known for playing Heather in the film Crazy Stupid Love (2011). Barris’ great uncle was George Barris, who was famous for photographing Marilyn Monroe, a star Lucy Ricardo emulated and even dressed as on one occasion. Janine Barris plays Betty Garrett, who appeared with Lucy in 1978′s “Gene Kelly: An American in Pasadena”.

Stacy Keach (William Frawley / Fred Mertz) is an acclaimed stage and screen actor who won a Golden Glob and an Emmy nomination for playing Ernest Hemingway on television in 1988. He shared the screen with Lucille Ball at the 1984 and 1986 Emmy Awards telecasts. He is currently seen on “Blue Bloods” and “Man With A Plan”. He is probably best known for playing “Mike Hammer” from 1984 to 1987.

Anna Mathias (Vivian Vance / Ethel Mertz) was born in San Francisco, California, and fittingly made her screen debut on a 1975 episode of “The Streets of San Francisco”. In 1985 she worked with Lucille Ball’s friend and colleague George Burns. She now concentrates on voice-over work.

Matthew Wolf (Marc Daniels)

Mark Sullivan (Richard Denning)

André Sogliuzzo (William S. Paley)

Others: Anna Lyse Erikson, Allegra Riggio

The book was first published in 1996. It took Gregg Oppenheimer seven years to write. An audio version was first presented in Los Angeles in 2015.

And then again in 2018.

It was recorded for audio in front of a live audience. Starring (in alphabetical order): Ron Bottitta as William S. Paley, William Frawley, and others; Seamus Dever as Jess Oppenheimer; Sarah Drew as Lucille Ball; Abigail Marks as Vivian Vance, Betty Garrett, and others; Matthew Floyd Miller as Don Sharpe, Bob LeMond, and others; Rob Nagle as Hubbell Robinson and others; Oscar Nunez as Desi Arnaz; and Nick Toren as Harry Ackerman.

Author Gregg Oppenheimer with Lucille Ball.

LISTEN TO EPISODE ONE BY CLICKING HERE!

#Lucille Ball #Desi Arnaz #I Love Lucy #Gregg Oppenheimer #BBC4 #Radio #Jess Oppenheimer #Stacy Keach #anne heche #wilmer valderrama #Alfred Molina #Jared Harris #Matthew Floyd Miller #Janine Barris #Anna Matthias #Martin Jarvis #Rosalind Ayres #Vivian Vance #William Frawley

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go-go-devil · 4 years

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If You Have Ghosts: The Story of a Song

This is an informative/personal essay I wrote about the history of Roky Erickson’s well-beloved song, “If You Have Ghosts.” Honestly I should have written & posted this on the 1-year anniversary of his death back in May, but I completely forgot. This piece is mostly a study of Erickson’s original and the band Ghost’s famous cover of it, alongside some other things. I would also appreciate some feedback on this if you all don’t mind.

The information I used as a reference when describing the making of the original song comes entirely from Joe Nick Patoski’s writing on Roky Erickson’s career and the making of The Evil One (included as a booklet in recent vinyl additions of said album).

Throughout our lives there will be songs that capture us in ways that we cannot escape from. Oftentimes it’s as simple as an infectious melody that we refuse to discard from our memories, either due to it becoming attached to a pivotal part of our lives or because we cannot dislodge it no matter how hard we try. Other times it can be something that attracts us so much that we begin to covet it to the point of obsession, and it is through this attitude that the song transforms from merely a piece of music into a piece of ourselves.

“If You Have Ghosts” is one of these songs for me.

What can I say about this wonderful track that hasn’t already been said? It is fierce, yet subdued. It is both hard rocking joy incarnate and a solemn reflection of one’s self, and it says so much by saying so little. The reason for all of these seemingly contradictory phrases I’m using is because this song, unlike many others, is a shared entity that exists in multiple forms. Quite an odd way of stating that the song has been played by more than one band, but hopefully this essay will demonstrate how the meaning of the original piece can mutate into different forms while still keeping its essence intact.

There’s no better place to start than with the original, recorded in 1977 and released in 1981 by rock n’ roll legend Roky Erickson.

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Originally recorded as part of a four-song demo of what would later become his first solo record, The Evil One, “If You Have Ghosts” contains many of the themes Erickson presents in his music as a whole. Those of which being: horror-themed esoteric lyrics, high-energy playing, soaring guitar riffs, and a general sense of raw, psychedelic power.

In less than 15 seconds the song has already built itself up and blasted into your eardrums, but never does the melody ever resort to sounding like a wall of noise. Each instrument weaves its sound around each other like some tripped-out embroidery design in order to create a rich tapestry in the listener’s mind. The lyrics are as catchy and repetitive as any of Roky’s songs, yet for this one he sounds less like he’s singing but instead simply proclaiming each line like it’s a definitive statement.

“If you have ghosts, you have everything”

“One never does that”

“The moon to the left of me is a part of my thoughts and a part of me is me”

“In the night, I am real”

“I don’t want my fangs too long”

Barring a few other scattershot words present in the chorus, what you’ve read above is all that you get for what this piece is trying to say. Unlike most of the other songs from the album, whose lyrics clearly convey the story/theme presented, this one does not have a lucid form to it and thus its meaning can only truly be grasped through interpretation. Personally, I always saw it as a proud declaration of one’s deviance from society, with the rip-roaring instruments serving to show how this person’s mind finally feels free enough to run wild in the night, with only the moonlight and their own invisible spirits to guild them.

But of course, all forms of speculation can never undermine Roky’s own intent when crafting this song, which, unfortunately, is not nearly as liberating as my previous presumption…

“If You Have Ghosts” as we know it is a direct product of Erickson’s mental illness. There really is no way of sugarcoating it. After being diagnosed with schizophrenia in 68’, Roky was sent to various state hospitals in 69’, where he was subjected to multiple electroshock treatments by doctors alongside being heavily sedating with Thorazine. Even after he was discharged in ’72 he never fully recovered from the abusive “therapies” he was given, resulting in decades of battling intense mood swings and heavy drug reliance as well as making it difficult for him to record many of his songs in studio.

Roky was under one of these spells whist recording the vocals for this song. He was only able to sing the chorus once, and after recording was no longer able to remember any of the lyrics. Out of all the tracks, Producer Stu Cook had to put the most effort into inserting the vocals into this song using a complex progress called wild-syncing to place multiple takes of audio alongside the instruments without using synchronization. It’s honestly a miracle that we even have this song fully formed in the first place given the circumstances of its creation.

Despite all of the hardship and effort put into creating this piece, for a long while there didn’t seem to be as much appreciation for it compared to Erickson’s other work. Partially because it was not present on certain releases of the album back in the day as well as the fact that Roky seemed to rarely play it live in concert (even on YouTube, recordings of these performances are scarce). As much as I love this version of the song, even I’m willing to admit that if I were ever forced to rank each song on The Evil One, I would probably place it somewhere in the middle. What can I say? When you make an album that great, the competition can be fierce!

For many obscure classics, the story would end there. Yet another buried treasure forever existing in the mind of one musician. But that’s not what happened, for several decades later a new band from Sweden will emerge, different in form but identical in spirit to Roky’s sound, whose frontman will breathe new life into a once forgotten masterpiece…

…Or at least that’s what I would lead into were it not for the existence of this version.

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Interestingly, the first notable cover of “If You Have Ghosts” was not done by Ghost but instead by an English folk-rock group called John Wesley Harding & The Good Liars on the 1990 album Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye: A Tribute to Roky Erickson. This now-obscure album consisted of a compilation of various bands and artists covering the songs of, you guessed it, Roky Erickson. There was actually a great deal of artists present on this record, including several well-known musicians such as ZZ Top, R.E.M., and The Jesus and Mary Chain (and even Butthole Surfers too!).

I’ll be the first to admit that I am not at all familiar with John Wesley Harding or his backing band; however, I will say that this piece is a worthy follow-up to the original in it’s own right. It slows down the song to a level not unlike the many psychedelic songs that followed in 13th Floor Elevator’s wake, keeping the main melody in tack while filling in the gaps with many little flourishes as a means of expanding it into something new. I’m especially fond of the echoing effect given to the vocals, which gives the already obscure nature of the lyrics a more outwardly ethereal quality.

Anyway, on to what you’ve been waiting for!

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After enduring another two decades of invisibility from the public eye, the song was once again exhumed and resurrected by an emerging metal band named Ghost for their 2013 EP If You Have Ghost. Considering Roky Erickson’s wide array of demon-inspired songs, it’s interesting how Linköping’s residential Satanic metal group chose this piece as opposed to more well-beloved hits like “Night Of The Vampire” or “Stand For The Fire Demon,” many of which work perfectly with the band’s themes of evoking retro horror films and devil worship. It almost seems like they just chose “If You Have Ghosts” solely on the basis of it having the word “Ghost” in it. However, just one listen to this cover will quickly prove otherwise.

Right off the bat, the instruments and vocals are a far cry from the original. Unlike the previous J.W.H. cover that made sure to keep the main melody in tack while adding onto it, Ghost instead chose the more daring option of altering the melody and tempo of the piece significantly. From the ominous drawing of violin and cello strings in the opening seconds to the melancholic metal sound of the guitars throughout (with the rhythm guitar being played by none other than Dave Grohl, who also produced the EP), this version slows the once fast-pace beat of the song down until it becomes almost unrecognizable save for the lyrics. Even Tobias Forge’s singing creates significant contrast with the original; his silky smooth, haunting baritone guiding a melody once held by Roky’s hard-edged yells.

And yet… the spirit still remains.

Although the sound itself has been thoroughly converted to the stylings of Ghost, they still managed to keep the fierce energy that ran through the veins of Erickson’s version, albeit with a twist.

Both songs convey a contemplative examination of one’s mind, with instrumentals and singing that amplify the power one feels from this reflection. However, Ghost’s version differs in that it amplifies the sense of isolation and longing present in the lyrics. The music notably softens at the beginning of many of the verses, particularly lines like “One never does that” or “I don’t want my fangs too long,” only to grow in power through the repetition of each line. It conveys the feeling of the singer having to grapple with these feelings before they can fully accept them.

Nowhere is this more apparent than the band’s acoustic cover of the song.

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At this point, the piece has been stripped down to an entirely naked form, its themes conveyed only through the guitars of two nameless ghouls alongside Forge’s vocals (presented here in his previous stage persona, Papa Emeritus III). There is no triumphant shouting or swelling electric guitar solos here anymore, just a somber reflection gently carried by melodic strumming and mournful singing. Despite now being as far from a rockin’ tune as humanly possible, it actually manages to come closest in recapturing the sense of rawness in the original, albeit on the exact opposite scale.

I remember watching a recorded acoustic performance in Paris back in 2015 where Papa introduced “If You Have Ghosts” as being a song about “loneliness,” which is an interpretation I can definitely agree with. In fact, I would even say that with this acoustic cover brings the entire meaning of the song full-circle. Through its peeled-back, unflinching depiction of being enclosed in darkness and isolation, it serves as a perfect end-note for a song that began from such troubled origins by telling the listener that, despite all the hardships, this beautiful piece of music will never lose its everlasting spirit.

Thanks for giving us everything, Roky.

#rip roky erickson #we're gonna miss you baby #I hope you all enjoyed this analysis #this took me a week to write!#if you have ghosts #roky erickson #john wesley harding & the good liars #the band ghost #the evil one #if you have ghost #where the pyramid meets the eye #my writing #music analysis

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pretoriuspictures · 3 years

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https://www.talkhouse.com/on-the-virtues-of-cinematic-failure/

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Most journalists who have spoken to me about my new erotic drama PVT Chat (starring Peter Vack and Julia Fox and streaming now on most VOD platforms) assume it’s my first feature film. Actually, it’s my third. My first two features never played a single film festival and haven’t been seen by more than a few hundred people (mostly friends and/or curious followers of my rock band, Bodega). They were financial failures (even though they were made extremely cheaply), but you couldn’t call them critical failures because nobody has ever reviewed them. I spent the last decade working on these films and yet their cultural footprint is practically nonexistent.

Despite that, I still believe in them and hope one day I’ll make a movie (or record) that inspires people to seek them out. My early cinematic attempts certainly failed at behaving like normal movies, but to me it is precisely this failure that makes them interesting.

Godard said of Pierrot le Fou (1965), “It’s not really a film. It’s an attempt at a film.” This is a purposefully cryptic statement, but I think I understand what he meant. There is a sketch-like quality to his films from that period. He was less interested in following a particular plot through to its conclusion than suggesting narrative ideas and moving on. He enjoyed employing classical narrative tropes but didn’t want to waste screen time on the proper pacing required to sell those tropes to an audience. Instead he filled his screen time with spontaneous personal, poetic, and political ruminations that occurred to him literally on the day of filming. Many found – and still find – this approach infuriating, but for a select number of Godard disciples, like me, this type of filmmaking is still revolutionary. I remember seeing Weekend during my sophomore year of college at the University of South Carolina and having my mind completely ripped open. Suddenly the world wasn’t a small, mediocre, predictable place – it was full of music and color and philosophy and eroticism. There were people out there genuinely disgusted with the status quo and boldly proclaiming it with style.

Godard’s work is a fulfillment of the dream of the caméra-stylo – a term coined in 1948 by Alexandre Astruc that argued it was theoretically possible for someone to compose a film with as much direct personal expression as exists in prose. In order to achieve this level of expression, one often needs to move beyond the realm of mere plot and narrative naturalism, the principle that what you are seeing on screen is real. (On most movie sets, the filmmakers and actors work overtime to sell this illusion.) Films that focus solely on plot, character psychology, and one literary theme have to direct the majority of their screen time toward plotting mechanics and emotional manipulation of the audience. What you gain in dramatic catharsis you often lose in intellectual honesty. There’s always a tradeoff. I am invested in a cinema of the future that veers toward self-expression, but doesn’t need to avoid dramatic catharsis as Godard’s films did. Certainly many filmmakers my age are working to achieve such a synthesis of intellectual directness and narrative pleasure. Experimentation is required and many “bad” films need to be made to pave the way for future successes.

I graduated college in 2010 high on this dream of the caméra-stylo and philosophy (my field of study) and in 2011 started filming my first feature, Annunciation, with experimental filmmaker Simon Liu. Annunciation is an “adaptation” of the Mérode Altarpiece, an early Northern Renaissance oil painting triptych by Robert Campin. The film features three short separate narratives, one for each panel of the famous 15th-century painting. I wanted the performances in Annunciation to be controlled and somewhat surreal, as if the whole film existed in a heightened but slowed-down hypnotic state; I was thinking about Bresson, Ozu, Antonioni and, of course, Godard (particularly his work from the ’80s). There is some plot, but the main goal of the movie was to reveal the miracle of existence in the everyday. And because the Mérode Altarpiece depicts the scene in Christianity where the Virgin Mary was impregnated by light alone, the film had to be shot on 16mm film.

Now picture this: a 22-year-old walks into a conference room in Midtown Manhattan and gives this pitch to a producer who was then investing in thriller movies: “Every time light strikes a piece of celluloid, a miracle similar to the Annunciation scene occurs: an image appears in the likeness of man that redeems our fallen world and reveals it to be the beautiful place that we take for granted in our normal day-to-day.” This wasn’t met with the enthusiasm I was hoping for. “Don’t you see,” I said, “this is a film about the ecstatic of the quotidian! This is a film that audiences will flock to! It could do for Williamsburg and Bushwick what Breathless did for Paris!” Looking back, I am both shocked and charmed by my youthful naiveté, courage and idiocy.

I was laughed out of the room, but the producer was kind enough to wish me good luck and welcomed any future pitches, should I come up with something any “normal” person would want to watch. I never thought of films in the tradition of the caméra-stylo as being elite works only for the gallery or the Academy. I, like Godard before me, have always assumed that audiences are intelligent and long for thoughtful, challenging movies. That belief I carry to this day and thankfully it sometimes seems to be true. How else could you explain the recent success of heady films by Josephine Decker or Miranda July?

Thanks to small donations from family members (and credit cards), I was able to shoot Annunciation without any official backing. I cast the film with a mixture of non-actor friends and some undiscovered Backstage.com talent and dove head first into the production. Right as our principal photography began, Occupy Wall Street gained momentum, so Simon and I spent time at Zuccotti Park filming our actors experiencing the movement. The hopeful promise of OWS seemed to reflect the yearning desire of our film’s protagonists as well as our own idealist cinema experiment.

When the film was finished and edited, I naively assumed that we were well on our way towards global cinematic notoriety. Surely, I thought, this important film that manages to blend fiction with actual footage of OWS would premiere at Cannes or Berlin and the Criterion Collection would issue the DVD shortly after. In actuality, it was rejected from every single film festival we submitted to.

Undeterred, I conceded that maybe there were a few minor structural flaws in the edit. It was probably a little too long and perhaps the three separate narratives would work better if they were crosscut more. A year later, this new edit was again rejected from almost 100 festivals. Stubbornly, I thought that perhaps what could really bring the movie together was a comic voiceover by my then cinematic muse Nick Alden (who is a lead in both Annunciation and my second film, The Lion’s Den). Audiences seemed to ignore the comic tone underlying Annunciation. If only I could unearth it, they wouldn’t be put off by the pretensions to greatness the movie wore on its sleeve. There is nothing so offensive to American audiences as pretentiousness.

I didn’t send the overcooked voiceover version to festivals. I knew it was forced and worked against the core concept of the film. But it was then that I started for the first time to have doubts about Annunciation. Maybe my film wasn’t as emotional or clever as I imagined. Maybe it was bad? “No,” I decided. The film, whatever its flaws may be, has value. Herculean delusions of grandeur come in handy when you are trying to become an artist.

I opted to edit the film back to its original state, but without some of the weaker, obviously didactic moments, then hosted a few local screenings in NYC (most of them at DIY venues where my rock band would play) and put the film up for free on Vimeo. Around this time, it occurred to me that editing Annunciation had been my film school. Failure is a wonderful learning tool. Editing the same raw material in a myriad of different ways taught me about pacing and tone. Still to this day, when I find myself in a certain state of mind, I open up the Final Cut sessions and do a new edit of the footage just for fun, like some sort of DIY George Lucas tinkering with the past. Last year during quarantine, I did a new edit of Annunciation and uploaded it to Vimeo without telling a single person. It has become my own little cinematic sandbox to play in.

When people did chance upon one of my myriad edits, they often commented that they enjoyed its style but found the acting too unnatural. My response to this was to make my next film, The Lion’s Den, a cheaper HDV feature that doubled as a political farce and an essay about naturalism in cinema. The film is about a group of ding-dong radicals who kidnap a Wall Street banker and plan to donate his ransom money to UNICEF so salt pills can be provided for dehydrated children. The UNICEF plot was drawn from Living High and Letting Die, a 1996 work of moral philosophy by Peter K. Unger. It was both a serious attempt at political philosophy and a total slapstick farce; I was imagining the comedy of errors in Renoir’s The Rules of the Game mixed with the Marxist agitprop of Godard’s La Chinoise.

The acting style in The Lion’s Den was purposefully cartoonish; at no point in the film could an audience member believe that what they were seeing was real. I like to think that The Lion’s Den was an attempt at theatre for the camera, part Shakespeare and part Brecht. This was my own personal response to our epoch’s hyperrealism fetish. At the time, I believed that the current obsession with neo-neorealism, mumblecore and reality TV was worth combating. Art with a realistic aesthetic, I thought then, was inherently conservative and accepting of the political status quo (whether the artists were aware of this or not). Art with an imaginative anti-realistic aesthetic, so I thought, was utopian. It opened new vistas and ways of thinking and being. It dared to believe in a more beautiful world than the one we are living in.

The making of The Lion’s Den was extremely difficult. It was by far the hardest thing I have physically done in my life. At the time, I was malnourished and broke, not unlike the character of Jack in PVT Chat; my diet for that month we made the film consisted mostly of coffee, rice and beans, ramen, light beer, and the occasional waffle or fruit smoothie from the vegan frozen yogurt stall I worked at. Unlike Jack, my addiction wasn’t cam girls or internet gambling, but independent filmmaking. I begged, borrowed and scrimped $10,000 to make a film I knew I wouldn’t be able to sell. Despite having some key collaborators near the beginning of the shoot, most of the film was made with just me, the actors and a loyal boom operator, all living together in a house in Staten Island. This meant that I had to assemble all of the cumbersome lights for every setup, handle the art for every scene (which involved a lot of painting), block the scene and direct the actors, throw the camera on my shoulder and film, and then at the end of the day transfer the footage while logging the Screen Actors Guild reports and creating the call sheets for the next day’s scenes. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I often couldn’t stand up at the end of the day’s filming.

Once we’d wrapped and everyone had gone home, I stood in the middle of our set and played Beethoven on my headphones. Within seconds, I began bawling my eyes out, partly from exhaustion but also from the melancholy that all my friends had left and I was now alone for the first time in a month. I collapsed and slept for hours. When I woke up, it was my 26th birthday. I celebrated by watching Citizen Kane alone and then started the process of painting the walls back to a neutral white. The actor Kevin Moccia (who has been in all three of my films and actually works as a house painter) heroically came back to set and helped me. I told him that despite all of the agony of the past weeks (my bank account was now in the red, with overdraft fees piling up), I was happier than I had ever been. Working passionately on something that has great value to you is, without a doubt, the key to happiness.

Shortly after returning to the real world and my job at the vegan yogurt shop, I passed out while on the clock and was taken to a hospital by my very supportive girlfriend. Turns out, all I needed was an IV and some nutrients to get back on my feet, but unfortunately the trouble with The Lion’s Den had just begun. At some point, I formatted the production audio memory card and, in one instant, accidentally deleted everything on it. For the next two years, my friend Brian Goodheart and I worked with all of the actors to dub all of the dialogue and sound effects in the movie. Each actor had to completely re-do their verbal performance. It felt like remaking the entire movie. The result made the film especially un-naturalistic (which pleased me at the time) and it turned out far better than I think Brian and I expected.

By then, I had some hopes that The Lion’s Den could reach a small audience. It is aggressively philosophical but also features a love triangle, a car chase and a final shootout. Its comic style, I was hoping, would attract people who were put off by the purposeful flatness of Annunciation. Nevertheless, the movie was also rejected from every conceivable festival. I now realized that submitting an aggressively experimental narrative film without a single famous person in it to festivals is basically like flushing your money down the toilet. Yet I continued submitting, like an addict at a casino putting all of their savings on the roulette table. You never know, right?

In hindsight, I now see The Lion’s Den as a very angry film that perhaps uses comedy to soften the blow of some of its hotheaded fervor, and suspect some of its critique of capitalism and naturalism came from hurt and jealousy. “You think my work isn’t natural enough, eh? I’ll show you motherfuckers naturalism!”

Sometime in 2017, to my surprise I became smitten with certain neo-neorealist filmmakers (Joe Swanberg, in particular) and decided I wanted in on the mumblecore party, albeit from my own outsider perspective. I began to see how I could work symbolically with naturalistic performances, which led me to my latest film. PVT Chat is by no means a work of strict realism, but nevertheless focuses on believable dramatic performances. The film’s cast blends some actors from my past work (Kevin Moccia, Nikki Belfiglio, David White) with some heroes of the modern neo-neorealist indie cinema (Peter Vack, Julia Fox, Buddy Duress, Keith Poulson).

I want to end with a bit of advice to other filmmakers: Don’t put your self-worth into the hands of festival reviewers or distributors. The future of the moving image will belong to the films that are willing to risk cinematic failure. If you make an earnest film that doesn’t behave like a normal movie, I want to see it, even if it is full of technical or narrative mistakes (which it most likely will be). There’s no right way to make a movie. Follow the dream of the caméra-stylo and make a film that if nobody else made, wouldn’t exist.

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penniesforthestorm · 3 years

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“Never trust a man with three first names”: ‘Justified’ Season Two, Episode One

That’s right, I’m still doing these! Before we start, a few procedural notes-- the premiere and finale episodes will be given the typical essay-style treatment, the rest recapped 3 at a time, according to whatever I jot down while watching. This particular season has a relatively self-contained narrative, so if you were only going to watch one season of Justified, this might be the one to choose-- I like S1 a lot, obviously, but after the pilot, it takes a rocky road for a few episodes (though the final six are pretty uniformly riveting). My thoughts on S1 can be found by clicking through (pilot, Episodes 2-5, Episodes 6-9, Episodes 10-12, finale), or you can search the tag ‘#did you miss my heart on purpose’ on my blog. Read on for my thoughts on S2:E1: “The Moonshine War”.

This episode begins with a refresher, taking us back to the chaos of “Bulletville” (S1:E13)-- Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) is taking shelter in a cabin somewhere in Harlan County, Kentucky, with his former coal-mining compatriot Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins), and Boyd’s sister-in-law Ava Crowder (Joelle Carter), facing fire from two emissaries of the Miami drug cartel, Ernesto and Pilar, who want revenge on Raylan for killing one of their own. Raylan manages to give Ava and Boyd the chance to escape, and shoots Ernesto. Pilar flees, and Boyd offers to track her down, making another claim to the old friendship between himself and Raylan, who allows him a head start.

We pick up with Raylan’s boss, Deputy Chief Art Mullen (Nick Searcy), and his team in the woods, questioning Ava. He asks, “Where’s your boyfriend?”, referencing Raylan and Ava’s brief affair (which compromised the initial investigation into Boyd Crowder’s criminal activities), and Ava replies, “Which one?” I think, in the moment, this is just Ava being flip, but in light of later developments, it caught my attention. After that, Boyd and Raylan catch up to Pilar, and Raylan delivers her (quite literally) to the home of Miami cartel boss Gio. Raylan’s former boss, Deputy Chief Grant, arrives, and the business between them is concluded with a pointedly off-the-record conversation. Following that, Grant tells Raylan that he’s welcome to return to Miami-- in fact, that Art Mullen wants him gone. Raylan, typically, takes this with the utmost maturity and declares that he just wants to go home (i.e., his motel room in Lexington) and go to bed. This is one of numerous examples of my favorite bit of characterization: Raylan Gives is handsome, funny, good at his job, and generally a good guy to have in a crisis. He’s also kind of an asshole. There’s the hoary stereotype of “yeah, but he gets results!”-- the renegade cop who is nevertheless always right. Raylan Givens is a great illustration of what a pain in the ass someone like that is for his colleagues.

One of those colleagues, Deputy Rachel Brooks (Erica Tazel), asks for Raylan’s assistance tracking down a sex offender who’s been spotted in Harlan: Jimmy Earl Dean. On the way, Rachel confesses that, as an African-American woman, she feels uncomfortable around the local white population, and since Raylan is a native Harlanite, she thought having him along would smooth the way. Rachel, from what we’ve seen so far, is tough and competent-- she’s not asking for a babysitter, she’s just being cautious. She can’t afford to be as reckless and nonchalant as Raylan is, and I like that the show calls our attention to that. And, likewise, that Raylan helps out.

It turns out that Dean is currently in the employ of the Bennett family-- matriarch Mags (Margo Martindale), and her “tads” Doyle, Dickie, and Coover--who run what appears to be a sizable marijuana operation. Dean attempts to menace a young girl, Loretta McCready (Kaitlyn Dever), whose father Walt (Chris Mulkey) has been growing his own bud on Bennett land, but Loretta’s a tough customer, and she’s able to get away. At home, Walt tells her that he called the tipline set up to catch Dean. Loretta realizes that this was a mistake-- the Bennetts won’t appreciate outside attention being brought to their business-- and goes to apologize to Mags.

The Bennett family is about as colorful a batch of characters as we’ve seen on the show so far. Mags seems every inch the jolly Southern lady, and her concern for Loretta is genuine, but her frank conversation with Raylan, when he and Rachel arrive at her general store, establishes her as a shrewd operator. She might ply him with her famous “apple pie” moonshine*, and warmly boast of his high-school athletic prowess to a seemingly starstruck Loretta, but she knows what his presence means. Likewise Doyle, who we’ve just seen interrogating Walt at the McCready home-- Doyle jokes with Raylan and demurs that he’s ‘not involved with the family business’, but even if we hadn’t seen evidence to the contrary, we’d know from the way he and Raylan size each other up that something’s fishy.

Which brings us to Coover (Brad William Henke) and Dickie (Jeremy Davies). Coover doesn’t appear to have much going on upstairs, but his sheer size and dull aura of menace mark him instantly as trouble. Dickie, on the other hand, is scrawny and frail-seeming, with a bad limp and a soft voice, but he quickly takes control of the situation when Raylan and Rachel arrive for a chat. It’s heavily implied that he and Raylan share a history, and, retrospectively, knowing what that history is makes their first encounter even wilder to watch-- Davies’ line readings are so thrillingly weird, it’s no wonder both Raylan and Rachel seem unsure what to do.

Fortunately, their immediate problem proves easier to dispel: Dean kidnaps Loretta, but State Trooper Tom Bergen (in what I believe is his first major appearance) alerts Raylan, and they catch up to him at a gas station. Raylan, in an inspired bit of improv, squirts Dean with gasoline, and then warns him that if he fires his gun, he’ll explode. (I’m not sure this would work, but neither is Raylan, so I’ll accept it). Raylan gallantly rescues Loretta, and Dean is taken away in cuffs.

Unfortunately, Loretta’s prediction about Mags’ ire proves true: as punishment for trying to poach Mags’ business and for telling the authorities about Dean instead of going to Mags directly, Walt gets a glass of poisoned “apple pie”. This scene is haunting-- the fear and surprise on Walt’s face, the way Mags’ voice never rises above a gentle croon as she scolds him, the way Dickie holds Walt’s hand and strokes his head as the poison takes effect. In the first season, Justified’s setting seemed a little haphazardly chosen-- the action could have taken place in any number of out-of-the-way places. But this scene, and the episode around it, show us that this season will be taking full advantage of the Appalachia featured in Leonard’s novels and stories. (Despite being filmed in Southern California. No, this will not be the last time I complain about that.)

*I have two notes about the moonshine: 1) Rachel refusing a sample, while it makes sense for her by-the-book character, is, in my opinion, a grave mistake of politesse. 2) My great-uncle, who ran a small, but successful cattle ranch in north-central Montana for most of his life, was famous for giving away jars of something we all called “cherry-bounce”. I’m a little sorry I never had the chance to try any. (He did teach me how to dance the polka, though. He was a cool guy.)

#tv #tv review #long post #justified season 2 #did you miss my heart on purpose

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clairebeauchampfan · 4 years

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NYT; wrongthink vs. groupthink

The resignation letter of Bari Weiss, an Op-Ed editor of the New York Times. My highlighting in bold.

“It is with sadness that I write to tell you that I am resigning from The New York Times.

I joined the paper with gratitude and optimism three years ago. I was hired with the goal of bringing in voices that would not otherwise appear in your pages: first-time writers, centrists, conservatives and others who would not naturally think of The Times as their home. The reason for this effort was clear: The paper's failure to anticipate the outcome of the 2016 election meant that it didn't have a firm grasp of the country it covers. Dean Baquet and others have admitted as much on various occasions. The priority in Opinion was to help redress that critical shortcoming.

I was honored to be part of that effort, led by James Bennet. I am proud of my work as a writer and as an editor. Among those I helped bring to our pages: the Venezuelan dissident Wuilly Arteaga; the Iranian chess champion Dorsa Derakhshani; and the Hong Kong Christian democrat Derek Lam. Also: Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Masih Alinejad, Zaina Arafat, Elna Baker, Rachael Denhollander, Matti Friedman, Nick Gillespie, Heather Heying, Randall Kennedy, Julius Krein, Monica Lewinsky, Glenn Loury, Jesse Singal, Ali Soufan, Chloe Valdary, Thomas Chatterton Williams, Wesley Yang, and many others.

But the lessons that ought to have followed the election—lessons about the importance of understanding other Americans, the necessity of resisting tribalism, and the centrality of the free exchange of ideas to a democratic society—have not been learned. Instead, a new consensus has emerged in the press, but perhaps especially at this paper: that truth isn't a process of collective discovery, but an orthodoxy already known to an enlightened few whose job is to inform everyone else.

Twitter is not on the masthead of The New York Times. But Twitter has become its ultimate editor. As the ethics and mores of that platform have become those of the paper, the paper itself has increasingly become a kind of performance space. Stories are chosen and told in a way to satisfy the narrowest of audiences, rather than to allow a curious public to read about the world and then draw their own conclusions. I was always taught that journalists were charged with writing the first rough draft of history. Now, history itself is one more ephemeral thing molded to fit the needs of a predetermined narrative.

My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views. They have called me a Nazi and a racist; I have learned to brush off comments about how I'm 'writing about the Jews again.' Several colleagues perceived to be friendly with me were badgered by coworkers. My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly 'inclusive' one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

There are terms for all of this: unlawful discrimination, hostile work environment, and constructive discharge. I'm no legal expert. But I know that this is wrong.

I do not understand how you have allowed this kind of behavior to go on inside your company in full view of the paper's entire staff and the public. And I certainly can't square how you and other Times leaders have stood by while simultaneously praising me in private for my courage. Showing up for work as a centrist at an American newspaper should not require bravery.

Part of me wishes I could say that my experience was unique. But the truth is that intellectual curiosity—let alone risk-taking—is now a liability at The Times. Why edit something challenging to our readers, or write something bold only to go through the numbing process of making it ideologically kosher, when we can assure ourselves of job security (and clicks) by publishing our 4000th op-ed arguing that Donald Trump is a unique danger to the country and the world? And so self-censorship has become the norm.

What rules that remain at The Times are applied with extreme selectivity. If a person's ideology is in keeping with the new orthodoxy, they and their work remain unscrutinized. Everyone else lives in fear of the digital thunderdome. Online venom is excused so long as it is directed at the proper targets.

Op-eds that would have easily been published just two years ago would now get an editor or a writer in serious trouble, if not fired. If a piece is perceived as likely to inspire backlash internally or on social media, the editor or writer avoids pitching it. If she feels strongly enough to suggest it, she is quickly steered to safer ground. And if, every now and then, she succeeds in getting a piece published that does not explicitly promote progressive causes, it happens only after every line is carefully massaged, negotiated and caveated.

It took the paper two days and two jobs to say that the Tom Cotton op-ed 'fell short of our standards.' We attached an editor's note on a travel story about Jaffa shortly after it was published because it 'failed to touch on important aspects of Jaffa's makeup and its history.' But there is still none appended to Cheryl Strayed's fawning interview with the writer Alice Walker, a proud anti-Semite who believes in lizard Illuminati.

The paper of record is, more and more, the record of those living in a distant galaxy, one whose concerns are profoundly removed from the lives of most people. This is a galaxy in which, to choose just a few recent examples, the Soviet space program is lauded for its 'diversity'; the doxxing of teenagers in the name of justice is condoned; and the worst caste systems in human history includes the United States alongside Nazi Germany.

Even now, I am confident that most people at The Times do not hold these views. Yet they are cowed by those who do. Why? Perhaps because they believe the ultimate goal is righteous. Perhaps because they believe that they will be granted protection if they nod along as the coin of our realm—language—is degraded in service to an ever-shifting laundry list of right causes. Perhaps because there are millions of unemployed people in this country and they feel lucky to have a job in a contracting industry.

Or perhaps it is because they know that, nowadays, standing up for principle at the paper does not win plaudits. It puts a target on your back. Too wise to post on Slack, they write to me privately about the 'new McCarthyism' that has taken root at the paper of record.

All this bodes ill, especially for independent-minded young writers and editors paying close attention to what they'll have to do to advance in their careers. Rule One: Speak your mind at your own peril. Rule Two: Never risk commissioning a story that goes against the narrative. Rule Three: Never believe an editor or publisher who urges you to go against the grain. Eventually, the publisher will cave to the mob, the editor will get fired or reassigned, and you'll be hung out to dry.

For these young writers and editors, there is one consolation. As places like The Times and other once-great journalistic institutions betray their standards and lose sight of their principles, Americans still hunger for news that is accurate, opinions that are vital, and debate that is sincere. I hear from these people every day. 'An independent press is not a liberal ideal or a progressive ideal or a democratic ideal. It's an American ideal,' you said a few years ago. I couldn't agree more. America is a great country that deserves a great newspaper.

None of this means that some of the most talented journalists in the world don't still labor for this newspaper. They do, which is what makes the illiberal environment especially heartbreaking. I will be, as ever, a dedicated reader of their work. But I can no longer do the work that you brought me here to do—the work that Adolph Ochs described in that famous 1896 statement: 'to make of the columns of The New York Times a forum for the consideration of all questions of public importance, and to that end to invite intelligent discussion from all shades of opinion.'

Ochs's idea is one of the best I've encountered. And I've always comforted myself with the notion that the best ideas win out. But ideas cannot win on their own. They need a voice. They need a hearing. Above all, they must be backed by people willing to live by them.

Sincerely,

Bari “

It’s all there; the Left’s engrained anti-semitism (so often now cloaked by ‘respectable’ anti-Zionism), the refusal to admit of other opinions, let alone to acknowledge the possibility of their validity, the narrowing of the mind, the cancel culture, the terror of the twitter storm and the mob in the street (”the people” as they like to call themselves) , the sheer spinelessness of the institutional ‘leadership’ unless it is in support of those people who have the ‘right’ opinions. Sadly, exactly the same process is going on at The Guardian, the BBC and our once great universities. Only Illiberal Groupthink is allowed, and former bastions of liberalism close down independent thought, the better to signal their virtue.

#new york times #groupthink

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john-taylor-daily · 4 years

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Want to feel really old? Oh, go on then. Duran Duran turn 40 this year: the band, that is, not the members. For them it’s worse: Simon Le Bon is 61, John and Roger Taylor, each 59, and Nick Rhodes, the baby, 57.

As you would expect of a pop group who always appeared happiest hanging off a yacht in ruffled Antony Price suits, accessorised with a supermodel and a cocktail, they intend to celebrate in style, coronavirus permitting. So the plan, announced this week, is that on July 12, exactly 40 years since their first gig at the Rum Runner in Birmingham, they will perform in Hyde Park, headlining a bill that includes Nile Rodgers & Chic and their pal Gwen Stefani. Four of the original five will be there: the guitarist Andy Taylor, 59, left the band in 1985 and, after rejoining in 2001, walked out again five years later. In the past, the guitarist Warren Cuccurullo has filled in; this time Graham Coxon from Blur will take his place.

Then in autumn Duran Duran are releasing a new album, their 15th, which they are halfway through making.

Growing up in the West Midlands, I was a Duranie; my first gig was theirs at the NEC in Birmingham. To give an idea of the level of devotion, I had house plants named after each of them. John, his initials “JT” written on the pot in nail varnish, was a begonia; Rhodes, a busy lizzie; Le Bon, a rubber plant; Roger and Andy Taylor were cacti. My memory, foggy on so much, still holds the name of Nick Rhodes’s cat at the time (Sebastian). The household appliance “JT” would choose to be? “A refrigerator, so I would stay cool.”

But despite previous opportunities, I’ve avoided them bar an awkward backstage handshake with Le Bon. In the meantime, they have notched up record sales of 100 million, had 21 Top 20 hits in the UK and, unlike many bands who came to fame in the 1980s, they produce different, exciting, if not always lauded albums, working with new producers and musicians. They’ve had top five albums in each of the four decades they’ve worked. Their last album, Paper Gods (2015), produced by Mark Ronson and Rodgers, was their most successful for 25 years.

Now 46 and with no desire to anthropomorphise greenery, I meet Rhodes, the keyboardist, and John Taylor, the bass player, once described as having the squarest jaw in rock. Rhodes suggests his “local”, Blakes hotel in Chelsea, near the home he shares with his Sicilian girlfriend, Nefer Suvio (he and Julie Anne Friedman divorced in 1992; they have one child together, Tatjana). Taylor, just in from Los Angeles, home to his second wife, Gela Nash, who runs the fashion label Juicy Couture, invites me to his flat in Pimlico. Le Bon, still happily married to the supermodel Yasmin Le Bon with three grown-up daughters, is busy in the studio and Roger Taylor, four children and with second wife Gisella Bernales, is otherwise occupied.

Rhodes, who joins me in the bar at Blakes, has the same peroxide mop and alabaster skin that were always his trademark. He wears black trousers by the English designer Neil Barrett and a Savile Row jacket dressed down with a rock T-shirt from the Los Angeles company Punk Masters.

Four days later, I arrive at Taylor’s flat in a garden square where he greets me at the door dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, with sculpted bed-hair. I’m reminded of the time my brother splashed Sun-In on his to emulate Taylor’s bleached New Romantic fringe.

It’s good to have them back. They started on the new album in September at Flood Studios in Willesden, northwest London, and, as well as Coxon, have been working with three producers: Giorgio Moroder, Ronson and the DJ Erol Alkan. “The whole place is filled with analogue synthesizers, so it’s just joy for me,” says Rhodes, who began life as Nicholas Bates but renamed himself after a make of electronic keyboard.

Rhodes met Moroder — the “godfather of electronica” and the man behind Donna Summer’s I Feel Love — through a mutual friend of his girlfriend. “We talked about music and what had happened to us,” Rhodes says. “He is as sharp as a razor, 79 going on 45.” They worked with Ronson, who has produced Amy Winehouse and Adele, in LA. “The first thing Mark always says is, ‘Let me hear the rest of it,’” Rhodes says with a laugh. “He is quite competitive.”

Taylor, who leads me into a room that’s more gentlemen’s club than rock-star pad with an open fire, armchairs, brown furniture and bad Victorian paintings, says the break of five years has refuelled them. “We have to starve ourselves of creativity long enough that when we do show up we have something to say,” he says. “[The studio sessions] are quite exhausting because we have been down this road. We can finish each other’s sentences and I guess, to some extent, we can do that musically as well. We are working with the same cast; it’s like a soap opera. That’s why collaborators become so important as you need to keep the spirit lively.”

Rhodes, who says the new album is more “handmade” and “guitary”, explains the working dynamics: “John and Roger’s rhythm section often drives a track. Simon, the lyricist, gives all the songs our identity; it’s his voice that tells you it’s Duran Duran. My part has more to do with sonic architecture.” That may be the most Nick Rhodes phrase yet.

We move on to Andy Taylor. “Forty years ago we had Andy in the band and he was a strong flavour and a northerner and brought a rigour,” says John Taylor. “Filling that vacuum has always been one of the major challenges of version two of the band; we did it with Warren Cuccurullo and with Graham on this record. But it’s not the same. Andy didn’t mind telling people what they were doing wrong.”

He pauses. “We had a reunion with Andy [in 2001] and that was enormously difficult, actually.” How so? “That’s a book really,” says Taylor, who has written about the saga, along with his struggle with drink and drugs, in his excellent 2012 memoir In the Pleasure Groove. “Or it’s a mini-series.”

“It was very uncomfortable for us,” Rhodes says of Andy leaving in 1985. “For sure, it had become stressful over the previous year — we were all burnt out from not having stopped for five years — but we didn’t see it coming at all.”

What are relations with Andy like now? “I don’t really have any,” says Rhodes. “I haven’t seen him for many years since he left the last time. I was not even slightly surprised when it did fall apart. I was relieved. As much as Andy is a great musician he is not an easy person to play with.”

I mention to Taylor that Andy has just announced his own UK dates in May, playing Duran songs. “Uh-ha,” he says. He didn’t know. Does he mind? “I don’t mind at all. All power to him,” says Taylor. “I would rather he be out playing.”

Taylor has the sanguine air of someone who has spent decades nuking his demons (he’s currently working on guilt; he had a Catholic mother). He has been sober for 26 years after an addiction which in part led to the break-up of his marriage to the TV presenter Amanda de Cadenet in 1997. Was it hard at first? “It was like turning round an ocean liner,” he says, his voice posh Brum with a California chaser. “I work a daily programme and that’s what keeps me sober. It’s not something that just happens; it takes a lot of attention.”

We move on to the themes of the new, as yet untitled, album. Le Bon lost his mother recently, so we can expect songs inspired by loss. Taylor says he took inspiration from “the challenges of long-term relationships . . . Take a song like Save a Prayer, which personally I think is one of the greatest ever songs in praise of the one-night stand,” he says. “It comes to the point where you can’t write something like that. It’s not age-appropriate; yet it is sexy. So how do you write from the perspective of someone who is trying to keep a long-term relationship together? That is the challenge of any late-age pop star. How do you make it chic, to use one of Nick’s favourite words.”

It is hard to forget how impossibly chic Duran were in the 1980s: from their beginnings in Birmingham (Nick and John, anyway), where they met when Rhodes was 10 and Taylor 12, to a world of famous friends, beautiful partners and exotic travel. Le Bon married Yasmin after seeing her in Vogue, Rhodes was with the shipping heiress Friedman and Taylor the teenage de Cadenet. Andy Warhol was a close friend of Rhodes.

While others were singing about the dark side of Thatcher’s Britain, they were . . . more opaque. “In the 1980s a lot of what we did was somewhat misunderstood because we were living in the same gloomy years with high unemployment and miners’ strikes and civil unrest as everybody else,” Rhodes says. “But our answer to it was we have to get away from this and make it a little brighter because it didn’t seem like a particularly promising future.” Don’t expect that coronavirus torch song any time soon.

Their association with Bond — they wrote the 1985 theme A View to a Kill — only added to the glamour. What do they make of the new one by Billie Eilish? Rhodes admits that he mostly listens to classical music these days but “was thrilled to hear Billie Eilish. I think it’s by far the best Bond song since ours.”

But not better than yours?

“I am very happy that she reached No 1.” Duran’s got to No 2.

Taylor is more critical. “I thought it was lacking in a bit of Billie Eilish to be honest. It could have been madder. It was a little bit too grown up,” he says.

Is it as good as A View to a Kill?

“No!” says Taylor, theatrically. “Although,” he admits, “it was the most difficult three mins that we have ever produced.”

It had a great video, in which the boys slunk around the Eiffel Tower. Taylor frowns. “I hate that video. So stupid. I can’t watch it.” One for the fans, then.

A secret of their longevity, Rhodes says, is not bowing to nostalgia. “I like to keep my blinkers on and look forward.” Having said that, he sounds ready to write his own memoir. “I would do a book yes,” he says. “I haven’t read John’s on purpose. I even wrote a foreword for it for the US version without reading it, but I did own up to it. I think mine would be very different from a lot of the rock biographies. The one that sticks with me is David Niven’s.”

Rhodes featured in Warhol’s diaries and Warhol, the subject of a show at Tate Modern in London that opened this week, would surely feature in his. He “invented the 20th century”, Rhodes says. “Andy was making reality TV in the Sixties. Can you imagine what he would have thought about the internet? It was all his dreams come true, but he would never have got any work done.” Rhodes says he stays off social media for that reason. “It’s not that I don’t like it; I fear it. I am going down a rabbit hole I may never get out of.

They’ve spent twice the time being famous as being unknown. Are they the same people they were in Birmingham 40 years ago?

Rhodes nods. “Yes, yes,” he says. “There have been big changes — marriages, divorces, kids, moving countries in John’s case — but when we are all together we have known each other for so long there is no room for anyone to behave in a way that would be unacceptable. There is no room for divas. We have lasted longer than most marriages; it is like being married to three people but we each get to go home on our own every night.”

Taylor tells me: “Without getting into recovery talk, a lot of that is about scrubbing away the masks that you tend to accrue to cope, so I think I am as close to that person as I was 40 years ago.”

Rhodes says tolerance is the key. “Sometimes when I arrive at the studio it is really bright, maybe someone is writing, and so everyone accepts I can’t cope, and so the lighting comes down.” I tell him I once read he always wears dark glasses before noon. He laughs. “Pretty much. That’s funny. I am hyper-sensitive to light. It’s not just pretentiousness. “

They appreciate they will have to prepare physically for the dates. For Rhodes, a terrible insomniac, that means “fruit and vegetables and grains” and lots of walking. But no workouts (“I am not a big fan of gymnasiums”). Taylor says he needs to start practising bass and the need to get back in shape is “keeping him awake at night”. “I like to run, I do Pilates, I do yoga and I think about everything that enters my mouth, everything. I am 90 per cent vegan. I don’t drink, take mind-altering chemicals. I am on and off sugar.”

Perhaps the greatest sign that they still have it is that their children want to see them play. Taylor just heard from his daughter, Atlanta, who lives in New York and is soon to be married to David Macklovitch from the Canadian band Chromeo.

“It’s a surprise when you get a text from a child and they say, ‘You’re playing Hyde Park — my boyfriend and I want to come.’”

#duran duran #DD40

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waltzofthewifi · 4 years

Text

Alter Ego (Marinette March #10)

Monday

Tikki glanced over Marinette’s shoulder, so Marinette adjusted her position to let Tikki see the webpage.

“Every year, our entire school votes for winners of certain categories,” Marinette explained. “This year we have ‘Most Likely To Become Famous’, ‘Most Likely To Accidentally Stumble Upon A Million Dollars’ - I’m putting Lila down for that, she’s way too lucky, ‘Most Likely To Successfully Run A Criminal Empire’, ‘Most Likely To Be Ladybug’-”

“That’s not good!” Tikki said.

Marinette gave her kwami a reassuring pat on the head. “Don’t worry, they’re not being serious about it. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be chosen for that. I know Adrien likes to talk about how I’m an everyday Ladybug, but I don’t think anyone actually believes it.”

Tikki hummed doubtfully.

The Previous Monday

Marinette, as always, arrived to class in just the nick of time.

But even if the bell had yet to ring, she still felt she was late. After all, clearly something had happened to have Alix and Ivan at each others throats.

“What’s going on?” Marinette asked.

“Alix crashed into Mylene earlier and broke her arm,” Ivan replied, voice low with anger.

“It’s not my fault!” Alix yelled back. “She wasn’t looking where she was going either!” “You were on skates,” Ivan replied. “It was your responsibility to look where you were going, but you didn’t.”

Marinette studied the two. They both looked mad, but in her experience, anger sometimes was just a symptom of another emotion.

And she knew her friends well enough to guess.

“Ivan, I know you’re concerned about Mylene, but yelling at Alix isn’t going to fix what already happened,” Marinette interceded. “I can’t say whose fault it was, but Alix cares for Mylene too. If she is at fault here, she probably already knows it. And Alix, I know you probably feel guilty, but if you messed up there’s nothing you can do now but apologize and try to do better next time.”

Ivan deflated first. “You’re right. I think I need to take a walk.”

“A wonderful idea, Ivan,” Bustier commented.

Ivan still moved with a bit of anger as he went to grab his backpack. The door shut behind him with a bang, but no one commented.

Alix remained tense. Marinette thought she detected the beginning of tears.

“Alix, it’s okay if it’s your fault,” Marinette said, putting her hand on Alix’s shoulder. “You made a mistake - everyone does. The important thing is that you learn from it.” Alix didn’t budge, so Marinette added. “No one is judging you for this.”

That deflated her. “I just - I was so worried I’d hurt her! I mean, badly! I know people who had really bad concussions from that type of collision and I thought I -”

Alix sniffled, and Marinette opened her arms to her. The two hugged for a few seconds before Alix pulled away.

“You're right. I need to learn from this - and I will!”

Tuesday

“Okay, so Alya can get Lila’s drink, Alix can get Mylene’s drink, Ivan can get Mylene’s tray, and then Nino and Juleka can split Lila’s tray between the two of them,” Rose deduced as they walked towards the cafeteria.

“I can get something,” Mylene argued. “Only one of my arms are broken.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that!” Rose replied.

Alya’s phone beeped, and she peaked at the screen. “Guys, wait up - Marinette said to meet her back in Bustier’s room. She has a treat for us!”

“Oh, I hope she brought something from her bakery,” Nino said.

“Me too,” Mylene said wistfully.

It was a short walk back to the classroom, and the class was greeted by a delicious smell.

“Forget pastry treats, she brought a whole lunch!” Alix said.

Marinette greeted them. “Hey everyone! So I thought everyone could use a little cheering up after yesterday, and since I was stuck at home during that akuma attack and all, I thought it might be nice to arrange a lunch for us.”

“Marinette, you’re so nice!” Rose commented.

“Yeah, and now we don’t have to worry about getting Lila’s and Mylene’s food,” Alix commented.

“Thanks girl,” Alya said. “You really know how to cheer us up.

Marinette was about halfway down the steps when she heard the sniffly.

Marc.

She poked her head under the stairs, and, sure enough, Marc was sitting, looking near tears.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked.

“Nothing!” Marc replied. “I just-” he sniffled again. “I got some nasty comments online about my writing, and it-”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marinette said when he trailed off. She sat down next to her.

“They said what I was writing was wrong, because I had one of the characters go through a fight with his parents or... or something like that, I don’t know, but it was based off of real life, and I-” Marc sniffled. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m projecting onto my characters too much.”

“Well, first of all, I read that chapter and it was amazing,” Marinette replied. “I’ve never had a fight with my parents like that, and yet I could still feel what it must have felt like. I get that such a topic is probably triggering to a lot of people, but you put a content warning and everything!

“And second of all, there is nothing wrong with projecting. I do it all the time in my designing! It’s a lot harder to tell, obviously, but when I’m looking over old designs, I can almost always tell which ones I drew when having a bad day, or when I’m angry. I found one with a lot of spikes and sharp lines and went, ‘yep, I remember what Chloe said to me that day that made me draw this.’”

“So you’re saying it’s natural?”

“Of course. Our emotions and our experiences inform who we are, and what we create. We have to use some control, of course, but I think how you use it is great! Some of my favorite stories have so-called ‘self-inserts’. Besides, you’re not the one going around insulting people online, so you are definitely not in the wrong for this situation.”

Marc nodded. “Thanks. I feel a little better now.”

Wednesday

Mylene smiled at her cast. “Wow, you two are so talented!”

Nathaniel blushed, and Marinette smiled.

“I feel a lot better about it now,” Mylene said. “You really know how to brighten someone’s day, Marinette!”

“It’s so ugly!” Alya complained, spinning in a circle to show off her bridesmaid’s dress to Marinette and Nino, who were sitting on the couch in her living room.

Marinette had been summoned about half an hour ago by Alya’s mom, saying Alya was “near hysterics” and needed someone to calm her down. Preferably, someone’s who fashion sense “she actually trusted”, and couldn’t use the “your my mom you’re supposed to say I look good card” on. She had originally called Nino, but then Alya had played the “your my boyfriend you’re supposed to say I look good” card immediately.

It made Marinette think being honest was the best way to go.

“Of course it is!” Marinette replied. “It doesn’t fit. It’s way too big in the chest.”

“But I couldn’t take anything smaller in the hips,” Alya complained.

“That’s okay,” Marinette said, standing up. “After all, what’s the point in having a designer for a best friend if she can’t fix a dress for you.”

“You’ll fix it for me?” Alya asked.

“Of course,” Marinette replied. “If you pull it a little tighter hear, maybe pull the neckline up a little-”

“Yes please,” Marlene cut in.

“And then loosen it around the hips, it will look fabulous on you,” Marinette finished. “I’d have to find a fabric really similar to this, but it shouldn’t be hard.”

“I’ll pay you back!” Alya said, almost desperately.

“No you won’t,” Marinette decided. “When is this needed by?”

“The wedding’s in a month,” Marlene supplied.

“I should have time to do it by then,” Marinette confirmed.

Alya spun and enveloped Marinette in a bear hug. “Oh, thank you girl!”

Thursday

Marinette spent lunch break at the Liberty, holed up in the practice room working on sketches for the album cover she had been asked to design.

After about half an hour, Juleka and Rose peaked in to see how she was doing. Marinette happily showed them what she was working on.

“This is my favorite,” Marinette said. “Penny sent me the photo from the last performance. The lighting isn’t good, and if we decided to go with it, we’ll probably retake it, but it’s great for inspiration. I think we can work out the colors of the outfits a little better too - Juleka, I have this brilliant purple jacket I think you will love-”

“Thank you Marinette for doing all of this!” Rose said.

“It’s no big deal,” Marinette replied. “Especially since Penny arranged for me to be officially commissioned and paid like I was when I did Jagged’s album.”

“You’re amazing,” Rose continued.

“No, you’re amazing,” Marinette countered. “I’m just here to support you guys.”

“Shut up and take the compliment, Marinette,” Juleka said, just loud enough to be heard.

“You are wonderful,” Rose said. “And you better believe it, too.”

Marinette spotted the girl crying in the locker rooms when she left the bathroom after detransforming.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked, sitting down next to the girl.

The girl nodded. “Yeah, I just - yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Marinette replied. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” the girl answered. “It’s just - my boyfriend broke up with me, and he did it over text and I - I just -”

“Over text! How rude,” Marinette sympathized.

The girl chuckled. “Yeah, definitely. I guess I wasn’t worth his time.”

“Sounds like he’s not worth your time,” Marinette replied.

The girl shook her head. “You don’t know me. Trust me, I was lucky he even paid attention to me in the first place.”

“Well, maybe I want to know you,” Marinette said. “I’m Marinette.”

“Liz.”

“Nice to meet you Liz,” Marinette said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Don’t you have to be in class?” Liz questioned.

“Eh, my attendance record is already bad,” Marinette said. “Nothing I can do to make it worse.”

Liz chuckled. “Alright then. Well, it started last year when-”

Friday

“Your dad can’t be serious,” Nino complained.

“He is,” Adrien replied. “I’m sorry for having to bail - I was really looking forward to tonight.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marinette argued.

“Yeah, your dad needs to calm down,” Alya added.

Adrien said goodbye and headed down to his limo. Marinette felt something in the back of her brain, nudging her to do something, but she couldn’t figure out what.

Adrien was about halfway down to the car when inspiration hit.

“Wait!” Marinette raced down the stairs and to the car, where Nathalie was waiting for him. “Hi, I’m Marinette.”

“We’ve met,” Nathalie replied. “Well, as you know, we really wanted Adrien to study with us tonight,” Marinette said. “But the truth is, I was actually wanting his help with something else - you see, I was invited to help design a suit for this big gala happening at the hotel in June-”

“You were invited to design for the Summer Gala?” Nathalie questioned, just as Adrien walked up next to Marinette.

“Yes,” Marinette confirmed. “And I was hoping Adrien could help me, since he’s been to something similar-”

“Well, tonight he is definitely unavailable,” Nathalie said. She checked her tablet. “But next Tuesday he should be available. I can schedule for him to join your study group for you, and this time we should have more luck keeping his schedule clear.”

“Really?” Adrien asked. “Thanks Nathalie!”

“Of course,” Nathalie replied.

Saturday

“Thank you for coming into school on a Saturday,” Bustier said to Marinette and Alya as they arrived.

“No problem,” Alya replied. “After all, this is a big deal! The school needs a much better kept ramp for students who can’t use the steps, and if this is our chance to make that happen, then I’m all aboard.”

“Me too,” Marinette said. “Alya has my full support.”

“Lately it feels like you’ve been supporting me,” Alya replied.

“This was your idea,” Marinette said. “And you were the one to get permission to do a fundraiser.”

“Yes, but only because you were willing to organize the bake sale for us!” Alya said. “Not to mention the posters you designed! And the extra help you recruited. With so many students, this is sure to be a success. Especially now that we’ll have reporters coming. The school will be forced to uphold their end of the deal.”

“Both of you have put so much work into this project!” Bustier said. “I”m so proud of you both!”

Sunday

“Thanks for coming over on such short notice,” Mylene’s dad said, letting Marinette in. “I don’t know what set her off, but I think it’s a girl thing.”

Marinette nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to calm her down.”

She had visited the Haprele’s apartment enough times to know which room was Mylene’s, and she knocked lightly on the door.

“Mylene? Can I come in?”

Mylene muttered something that sounded like a yes, and Marinette slowly entered her room.

The room was a mess. Mylene was curled up on her bed, sniffled into her knees. She looked up with teary eyes as Marinette entered the room.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, sitting down on the foot of the bed.

“I misplaced the pin Ivan gave me,” Mylene sniffled.

It seemed so minor, Marinette knew something else was up. When Mylene hesitated for a moment, grimacing with pain, Marinette knew the what.

“Cramps again?” Marinette questioned. “How about I get you some midol?”

Mylene shook her head. “Just took some.”

“Okay then,” Marinette said. She thought for a moment. “I’m going to call my mom and have her bring over some macaroons for us.”

“Oh, please!” Mylene said. “I’ve been craving chocolate for decades.”

“I’ll make sure she brings lots of chocolate,” Marinette confirmed. “And then I’ll help you clean up your room.”

“And help me find the pin?”

“I’ll help you find the pin,” Marinette said. “I”m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

Monday

“I’m going to put Alya down for Ladybug,” Marinette decided. “I bet she’ll be chosen.”

“Maybe,” Tikki agreed.

But probably not.

#marinette dupain-cheng #marinette march #fanfiction #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #my writing #my fanfiction #unedited #period #mentions of periods #mentions of broken bones

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hlupdate · 4 years

Link

Mary Louise Kelly: Your most recent album seems tied up in the '70s, which is a decade you didn't actually live through. What is it about that era that draws you in?

Harry Styles: There's a freedom in the music that is so inspiring. If you go back and listen to so much of that music, and you listen to songs from [Carole King's] Tapestry and Harry Nilsson songs, they sound so fresh. I think it's crazy that something that was made so long ago, you can listen to it now and be like "I want my drums to sound like these drums, and I want my strings to sound like these strings." I think that's really incredible. And I think it's just the freedom, it's people doing what they wanted to do. Obviously, the music business has changed so much since then — there was a lot more of everybody hanging out together and playing songs, and I feel like music is a lot more competitive now.

And is it maybe a little more produced now? Less organic?

Was making Fine Line sound like the music of the '70s a conscious choice?

Speaking of Fleetwood Mac, I saw you've gotten to know and work with Stevie Nicks. What's that like, to get to know someone who was the soundtrack of your childhood and go out on stage with them?

Does it matter if you're super famous yourself?

There's a lot of us who wanted to be a rock star and ended up being lawyers. You've gone the other way. Is it funny listening back to yourself? What do you wish you could tell your 16-year-old self?

Can you tell us about a favorite song on the album?

And "Cherry" was the result of that?

How did you write "Fine Line?"

#harry styles #npr #270220

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