#YOU HAVE THE INTROSPECTION OF A PIECE OF FRUIT SIT THE FUCK DOWN

[alienpimps]

its sad we are at a place in society where i have to consider someone telling me they're studying to be a therapist a red flag, but here we are

#i have literally never met someone who wants to be a therapist who would actually be a good one #except one person #out of like 30+ people #RED FLAG #YOU HAVE THE INTROSPECTION OF A PIECE OF FRUIT SIT THE FUCK DOWN

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 20

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​,  @innerpaperexpertcloud​

Every Saturday morning Millie has him up at the crack of dawn; a habit she’d developed after their first weekend back in Australia, when she pestered him awake, insisting he watch the sunrise with her. Six months later he can still remember the look of awe and wonder on her face; those blue eyes impossibly wide, her mouth hanging open in shock, hands clasped tightly against her chest. It became their ‘thing’. Sitting out on the back patio and watching as the sun came up, having breakfast and then heading down to the beach. If the conditions were right and the winds not too strong and the waves not too challenging, he’d take her surfing; she’d been a natural from the start, confident, expressing no fear or hesitation. She even had her own board: a custom job that he’d let her pick out and choose the colors and designs she wanted on it.  If things weren’t cooperating, they’d take Mac for a walk along the beach and throw things in the water for him to retrieve. Millie would collect rocks, shells and all the beach glass she could possibly find; adding everything to the already expansive collection she kept in shoe boxes under her bed.  Or they’d take a hike through the woods that bordered their property, and she’d use his phone to take pictures of any wildlife and ‘cool looking stuff’ they’d stumble upon.

It’s their time together. Before all her siblings are awake and the chaos of the day begins. Just shy of six years old and despite her penchant for profanity and fighting, she’s insanely intelligent and well spoken; introspective and wise, oddly intuitive for someone so young.  More like her mother than anyone realizes. And he cherishes their alone time. She’s not his first born; no one could ever replace Austin. But she’s the first in his new life; a living reminder of the second chance that he’s given.  A beautiful, amazing little soul that had been created during quite possibly the craziest and most difficult time of his life; in the midst of all the loss and the destruction that Dhaka had brought with it. An accident maybe, not but a mistake. Their bond is profound, stronger than the others. He’d been with her from the go after all, when she was still being carried inside of her mother’s body. When she was a baby, he hadn’t gotten back into the job yet. There’d been no leaving in the middle of the night, no being absent for days and often weeks.  And he’d been so grateful to be given another shot at being a father that he’d devoted every waking moment to her.

After the sunrise she helps him make breakfast; standing on one of the kitchen chairs she pushes right up against the stove. The same thing she has him make every Saturday: pancakes topped with fresh fruit and syrup. Proud of herself when she gets the responsibility of mixing the batter and ladling it onto the griddle. Talking his ear off the entire time the food cooks; the dreams she’d had during the night,, everything she’d learned in school that week, all the different activities she and her friends had engaged in during gym and recess. All bright eyed and cheerful, a stark comparison to his more sullen and quiet morning mood. But he humors her. Like always. Offering up nods or small comments at the appropriate times, sympathetic scowls or shakes of the head when she’d complain about something she found wildly unfair or particularly disturbing.   When all the food is prepared and they’re ready to head outside to eat, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes as tight as she can.  And when she says “I love you daddy” in that little voice of hers, everything seems perfect and right in the world.

Breakfast is finished and he’s on his second coffee of the morning when she speaks again.  Her thick, unruly hair tumbling down the sides of her face and to the middle of her back as she sits across from him; feet up on the seat and her Hello Kitty pajama top pulled over skinned and bruised knees.  Those blue eyes dark and serious, her brow furrowed.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it true you almost died?”

Tyler watches her over the top of his mug, lips pressed against the rim.  She’s already perfected the poker face, not even the slightest hint of emotion. And she suddenly seems so much older and mature than her actual age.  

“The other night when we saw Auntie Nik and Uncle Kyle,” she continues.  “Mommy said you almost died. Is that true?”

Fuck, he silently curses.  It had been bad enough dealing with the fallout of Ovi telling her about his ‘real job’; that the reason he went away so often was because he was ‘helping get good people away from bad people’.  The nightmares had lasted for two months; she’d wake up screaming in terror, often wetting her bed, sometimes even throwing up.  But now this? His own brush with death was something he’d hoped to not have to touch on until she was much older. If ever.

“It is,” he confesses. “I did almost die.”

“The bad guys hurt you?”

He nods.

“How? How did they hurt you?”

“You don’t need to know those things. Maybe when you’re older I’ll tell you. But you’re too young to hear all of that.”

“But it was really bad,” she states.

“Yeah. It was really bad.”

Her expression remains neutral, eyes fixed on her fingers as they fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of her night shirt.  “Mommy was there too?”

“Mommy was there,” he confirms. “She helped me. So I wouldn’t die.”

“So she’s a hero?”

“I think so. She’s my hero, at least.”

Millie smiles at that. Then quickly turns serious again; those deep lines in her forehead returning, eyes darkening once more.  “If you died, I wouldn’t be here. And neither would TJ or Tanner or Declan or Addie.”

“You would still be here. You were going to be here whether I died or not. You were already in mommy’s tummy.”

“Did you know? That I was in there.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I didn’t know. Neither did mommy.”

“How come? How come you didn’t know?”

“The doctor hadn’t told us yet,” it seems like the easiest and most logical explanation for a child to grasp. “We didn’t find out until a little while later that we were having you.”

“So if you died, mommy would have been all alone when she found out about me? She would have had to have me all by herself? With no daddy in the room?”

He manages a nod, finding himself fighting back his own wave of emotion. It’s something he doesn’t think about often; if he’d died and Esme would have been left to handle everything on her own. How she would have felt finding out that she was carrying the baby of a dead man. With nothing more than those five days in Dhaka to remember him by.

“That’s sad,” Millie’s voice is a near whisper, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Poor mommy.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if there’s anything he can say. No wise or helpful words of comfort that can heal that particular wound.  Especially when flooded with his own emotions: sadness, regret, guilt. That he’d ever put Esme in that situation in the first place.

Millie rebounds quickly; brushing the tears off her cheeks with the backs of her hands and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Were you happy?” she asks. “When you found out that I was in mommy’s tummy?”

“Yeah...” he takes a swig of coffee. “...I was happy. Surprised. But happy.”

“A good surprise?”

He smiles. “A very good surprise.”

“Because you were sad before, right? Because Austin died. And he was you first baby. I’m the second.”

“You’re my first too. You’re my first with your mom. That still counts. And yeah, I was happy because I was getting a second chance to be a dad. Your mommy gave me that chance. So did you. Did you know that I used to talk to you all the time? When you were in mommy’s tummy.”

Her eyes and her voice brighten. “You did?”

Tyler nods. “I used to put my hand on mommy’s stomach and you’d always kick it. I used to tell you all kinds of stuff. About all the thing we were going to get to do together. About how awesome it was going to be take you to beach and teach you how to surf. About how much I loved you and couldn’t wait to meet you.”

“Mommy said that you got to meet me first. When I was born.”

“I did. I was the very first person that doctor gave you to.”

“Did you cry?”

“I did,” he admits. “More than you did, I think. You were kind of quiet, actually. You were just looking around at everyone and everything with those big blue eyes.”

“What did I look like?”

“You were really small. Not as small as Addie though. You were three pounds heavier than her. And you had tons of hair. A little darker than it is now.”

“Was I cute?”

“The cutest baby ever.”

“Did I look like you or mommy?”

“Would I say you were the cutest baby ever if you looked like your mom? Come on now.”

“Daddy!” she scolds. “That’s mean. Mommy is very pretty.”

“She is. You’re the cutest baby ever and she’s the prettiest mommy ever. But you looked like me. You looked like me then and you look like me now.”

“That’s okay I guess,” she gives a rather forlorn sigh. “I mean, you’re okay to look at, I suppose.”

Tyler smirks. “Now who’s mean?”

“I learn from the best,” she declares, then reaches for the plastic cup of chocolate milk that sits on the table. “If you and mommy didn’t know each other and didn’t have any kids and you met her somewhere, would you still fall in love with her?”

“Absolutely,” he replies with no hesitation.

“Would you still marry her?”

“I’d marry your mom a million times over.  Think she’d marry me? If she didn’t know me yet and just met me?”

“I think so.  I mean, she obviously loves you, right?”

“Think so?”

“I know so. I mean, she puts up with your shit.”

Tyler laughs at that. “Yeah,” he agrees. “She does.”

“But I think you’re doing okay, daddy. I think you’re brave and you’re strong and you need to be nicer to yourself.  You need to say nice things to yourself instead of bad things. When you get up in the morning, you should look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re awesome and no one is going to make you angry or sad or dull your sparkle. That’s what I do, you know,” she pushes her hand through her hair, moving it off her forehead and away from her face. “Every day when I get up, I tell myself, ‘Amelia, it’s going to be a great day’. I use my real name when I talk to myself. Just ‘cause.”

Tyler grins. “You talk to yourself a lot?”

“When I want to have an intelligent conversation,” she responds, and he nearly chokes on a mouthful of coffee. “I mean, have you met the kids in my class? Or my brothers? I have to talk to myself. There’s no other option. And I tell myself, ‘Amelia, no one is going to dull your sparkle!’”

“No one could EVER dull your sparkle, Millie. No one. You’re a lot like your mom, you know. More than people realize.”  

Esme is all personality as well. For years she’d had to hide it behind a tough, no nonsense exterior; her time in the Corps, the disastrous marriage to Mark, her years on the job spent lying and conning people. She’d never been able to be herself, for one reason or the other. But the true Esme had always been lingering just under the surface; vibrant and carefree, a bit of a wild child, one that loves life and everyone in it and tries to never waste time on regret and ‘what ifs’.   Moving back to Australia had brought it all out of her. It had been like meeting her all over again for the first time; she was Esme, but she wasn’t. Even now there are shades of the Dhaka Esme lingering under the surface, but that Esme is no longer in control.  The new one has taken over. And seeing those different sides to her...seeing her real personality come out...had made him fall even more in love with her. Which he had thought wasn’t even remotely possible.

“If you don’t think you can tell yourself stuff like that, I can do it for you,” his daughter offers. “I can tell you that you’re awesome and that you’re brave and strong and that there’s no better daddy in the whole, wide world. Not even in the whole universe.”

Tyler never thought an almost six-year-old could bring him to his knees, but if he’d been standing, she would have done just that. The words take his breath away; so innocent and pure. So honest.  That IS how she sees him. To her, he’s the strongest, bravest man that exists. She doesn’t know just how broken and damaged he actually is, nor does she have any recollection of the birthdays he’s missed or the times he’d left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. And if she does, she’s forgiven him and holds no grudges.

“Don’t cry, daddy,” she implores, and she’s climbing into his lap now and taking his face in her hands. “Don’t be sad. Be happy. I’m here.”

“You have no idea how happy that does make me. That you ARE here.”

Her eyes sparkly mischievously. “Because I’m your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite. I love all of you.”

She rubs her palms against his beard, giggling at how it feels against her skin. “It’s okay, daddy. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

Grinning, he combs a hand through her hair, moving it away from her face and pushing it off her shoulders.  “You’re my favorite,” he concedes, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

She gives a brilliant smile; one that wrinkles the corners of her eyes and crinkles the top of her nose. Then wraps her arms around his neck and settles her head on his shoulder. “I knew it.”

****

“I really do want a puppy,” Millie announces three hours later, from where she’s perched upon his shoulders, hands clasped together and forearms folded, resting on top of his head.  

They’d spent nearly two hours in the water; alternating between swimming and surfing, then had joined the rest of their family for a second breakfast. And while Esme and Declan went to the neighbors and Kyle took the twins for a ‘guys day, Millie had insisted of spending the day with him. Even if meant doing nothing more than going into town and running errands: picking up baby formula and prescriptions, checking items off a small grocery list, and browsing through stores. Since their talk that morning she’d been clingy; more so than usual, not wanting to let him out of her sight. And he enjoys it; the way she’s so attached to him. Even the way she can talk him into doing just about anything for her. Possessing the innate ability to get him out of his comfort zone without him even realizing he’s doing it.

“What kind of puppy?” Tyler asks, shopping bags on one hand, free arm across her legs to keep her in place.

“I dunno. A cute one. A fluffy one. Really fluffy. Like a little bear. But not as mean and big when it grows up.”

“We already have Mac,” he reminds her.

“Mac needs a friend.”

“He has you and your brothers and your sister.”

“A furry friend. Like him.”

“He does, does he?”

Millie nods. “Maybe for my birthday?”

“You never know.”

He and Esme had already made the decision; picking out –and paying for- an Australian shepherd that could picked up the morning of the big day. A friendly –albeit extremely hyper- little thing with enormous blue eyes and a playful disposition. The breeder had asked for a name so the puppy could get used to it and recognize it in the home, and without hesitation he’d said ‘Saju’. It seemed fitting; that man had been strong and loyal to the bitter end.  

“I’m going to be six, you know,” Millie says.

“I know. I was there when you were born, remember?”

“Did mommy cry? When I was born?”

“What is your obsession with people crying when you were born?”

“Mommy and I watched The Baby Story on Netflix. Everyone on that show cries when their baby is born. Did mommy?”

“Mommy cries at sad commercials. Of course she cried when you were born.”

“Was she sad?”

“Why would she be sad? She was happy. And relieved. Because you were healthy and you made it safe and sound. It was a lot of hard work, you know. Keeping you inside of her as long as she could. Couple times we didn’t think you’d make it that far. That you’d arrive a lot sooner.”

“Like Addie?”

Tyler nods.

“Addie’s super tiny! But she’s tough. And when she squeezes my finger, she squeezes really hard! When she’s older, I’m going to teach her to fight. So no boys pick on her.”

“How about you not teach her to fight and you just beat up whoever picks on her.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that. Keep the boys away from her. Because boys suck!”

Tyler smirks. “I’m a boy. I don’t suck.”

“That’s different. You’re daddy. You’re a boy, but you’re not.”

“What happened to that Ryan kid?”

“We broke up,” she sighs. “I was sad at first, but mommy said there’s lot of other fish in the pond and I should keep fishing until I find the right one. Even if I have to fish until I’m a lot older. And she said I should never lower my standards.”

“She’s a pretty smart lady that mommy of yours.”

“She is. You’re lucky daddy. That she loves you. ‘Cause she’s crazy cute and crazy smart and lots of boys want someone who is crazy cute and crazy smart.”

“Yeah? What boys? I want names so I can beat them up.”

“Don’t be jealous just ‘cause boys like her. Appreciate it. They like her, but she likes you.”

“You know, you’re awful smart for just about six.”

“I know,” she giggles. “Cute like daddy, smart like mommy.”

“That’s exactly it.”

He stops at the truck to put the bags in the back and they continue on. Taking her to the pet store, where she ‘ooos and awws’ over the wall to wall tanks of various sizes and colors of fish, giggles at the antics of the birds and the hamsters, and gets to pet the kittens and a hedgehog the workers bring out for her to see. But she’s most intrigued by a large tarantula and the snakes. The kid that doesn’t panic when the Huntsmen spiders get into the house or someone finds a snake curled up and hiding in the toe of one of their shoes. She’s calm and composed while everyone else –aside from him- if losing their minds and Esme is threatening to burn the place down.

They go for ice cream next; in a candy shop very similar to the one they used to frequent in Telluride.  Millie never talks about Colorado or about their old home; almost as if those times never even existed and she’d been in Australia from day one. Her developing accent is stronger than the other kids’ and every day he hears her voice changing more and more; filling him with a sense of pride that he can’t quite explain.  

He sees the way people react to them together; the smiles and the passing comments they get, especially from women. It’s the visual, he supposes. Someone his height and his size catering to a little girl in pig tails and a flamingo patterned sundress.

“Why do girls like big muscles?” Millie asks, as they sit at table on the outdoor patio; kneeling in her seat in order to reach her bowl of ice cream.

“I don’t know,” Tyler replies. “Who likes big muscles?”

“Lots of girls. Mommy does. She likes YOUR big muscles.”

“Mommy knows a good thing when sees it, I guess.”

“I see the way girls look at your muscles. How they look at YOU. I hate it. It’s gross. You’re my dad. I don’t want them thirsty bitches looking at you.”

He frowns. “Amelia...”

“I know...I know...bad language...sorry.  But it’s true. I don’t want girls looking at my dad like that. You’re already married. To mommy.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to stay married to mommy. Doesn’t mean other girls can't look. Just means they can’t touch.”

“’Cause mommy will throat punch them.”

Tyler nods. “Exactly.”

“And don’t want Salena looking at you like that either. I don’t appreciate her touching you. Touching your arm. That made me mad.”

“You need to relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax.”

He can’t help but laugh. “You sounded exactly like your mother just then.”

“She shouldn’t have touched you,” Millie continues her rant. “Only mommy should. Because you’re daddy and she’s mommy and you should only touch each other.”

“That’s a very good point. You don’t like her? Salena?”

“I dunno,” Millie shrugs. “I guess she’s okay. It just made me mad. When she touched you.”

“It’s no big deal. Mommy said it was okay.”

“I don’t care. It was wrong and you can’t convince me otherwise. Do you want other guys touching mommy?”

Tyler scowls. “Do they?”

“That’s not the question. Do you? Want other guys touching her?”

“There better not be other guys touching her.”

“Mommy would never let them touch her. Only you’re allowed to touch her.”

“Have other guys tried? Have you seen them try?”

“Daddy, you’re missing the whole point,” she sighs in exasperation. “Do you, or don’t you? Sheesh.”

“I’ll more than throat punch any guy that touches your mother.”

“Well then no girl should touch you either. It’s only fair.”

“You know, you are way too smart for your own good.”

“It’s common sense!” Millie reasons.  “I’m going to tell her when I see her. That she’s not allowed to touch you ever again. Or else.”

“How about you stop being such a bad ass and mind your business,” Tyler suggests.

“You’re my dad. You ARE my business.”

“Why don’t you like her?” he asks once more. “Other than the whole touching me thing.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her...I just...” she sighs and allows the words to trail off.

Tyler watches her at he eats his own ice cream; patiently waiting for her to continue. Recognizing that intense, deep in thought expression on her face. It’s one he’s seen many times in the mirror. Esme had called it ‘frowny eyebrows’.

“I don’t trust her,” Millie finally says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, she shrugs, and licks ice cream off the end of her spoon. “I just don’t. Do you?”

“I’m trying to,” he admits.

“Maybe you don’t trust her for a reason. Maybe you don’t know what it is either.”

“Or I’m just paranoid.”

“No. That’s not it. Mommy says you have really good...” her eyebrows pinch together once more as she struggles to remember the word.

“Instincts?” Tyler offers.

“Yeah! That’s it. Instincts. That’s what mommy said. Those are good things to have, yeah?”

“Most of the time.”

“So maybe they said not to trust her, and you need to listen to them.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know what kind of ‘grow up juice’ they’re giving you at school, but I think you need to lay off it. There’s no way you’re only five.”

“Excuse you, I’m almost six.”

“Sorry. Almost six. You sure you’re not more like sixty?”

“Just six. But six means I’m getting bigger.  That I’m growing up.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I can’t stay little forever, daddy. No matter how much you want me to. One day I’m going to get married and you’re going to have to give me away.”

Tyler frowns. “Are you intentionally trying to depress me or...?”

“I’m just saying. It’s sad. That mommy’s daddy didn’t get to do that when she married you.”

“He died a long time before I ever met your mom. She was just a teenager.”

“But even though he’s dead, he’s still my grandpa, yeah?”

Tyler nods.

“And your dad is my grandpa too. But I don’t get to see him. Even though he’s still alive. Mommy said he’s sick. Will I catch it if I go see him?”

“It’s not that kind of sick. You can’t catch it.”

She pouts. “I don’t remember him.”

“You were just a baby the last time I took you there. Did you want to see him?”

“Yeah...I guess...I mean, he’s my grandpa. Will he remember me?”

“Probably not. It’s been a long time since he last saw you.”

“When we moved away when I was a baby. Maybe you could take me there. To see him. So he can see what I look like now.”

“If you want to go and see him, I’ll take you. But...”

She arches an eyebrow, spoon in her mouth as she waits for him to continue.

“...he doesn’t remember who I am, either. Some days he does, some days he doesn’t. It might be a good day for him, might be a bad day.”

“Because he’s sick? Is his brain sick.”

“Yup. That’s exactly it”

“Which means we can’t even bring him popsicles and chicken noodle soup. Those always make me feel better when I’m sick.”

“He might like them, but they don’t help.”

“Hmmm...”  her eyes focus on the snack in front of her, spoon swirling around in the now melted remnants of ice cream; bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “...but it might cheer him up. To see me.”

“It could,” Tyler agrees.

“And maybe he can come to my birthday party.”

“What birthday party?” He inquires, and she gives him a sly smile, spoon poised against her lips.

“Amelia.”

“Daddy,” she responds, using the exact same tone.

“What birthday party?”

“Mommy said I had to talk to you about it. And then you could talk to her.”

“About...”

“Okay....so....” she scoops the last of the melted ice cream into her mouth and then ducks under the table, resurfacing beside him and scrambling into his lap. “...I thought it would be really fun if the whole class could come over.”

“To our house?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“That’s a lot of kids.”  And a lot of parents that will likely stick around. Each of them complete strangers. In the one place he holds most sacred and where he feels the most at ease. And he can feel the anxiety building at the mere thought of it.

“We have lots of room,” she reasons. “And a big beach and lots of water. None of my other friends have any of that. It would be really fun. A beach party.”

“And you’re sure that’s what you want to do? You don’t want to go to the amusement park or to go the koala sanctuary or...?”

“I like home the best. It’s the most fun. Mommy said to talk you about I.”

“She did, did she?”

Millie nods. “I know you don’t like lots of people around, daddy. It’s because of the bad guys, right?”

“You don’t worry about that stuff, okay?” He offers her the last spoonful of his ice cream and she happily accepts it. “Those things aren’t for little people to worry about.”

“But you’re my daddy,” she reasons. “So I worry about you.”

“I know. And I appreciate it and I love you for it. But you’re five...”

“Almost six!” she interjects.

“...and you need to worry about kid stuff. Not about that crap. And you really want to have you friends over for your birthday?”

“I do.”

“I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll make it happen. I’ll deal with it my own shit.”

Millie giggles. “You said no bad language today, daddy.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Fuck.”

“Daddy!” she erupts into giggles. “That even worse language!”

“You going to rat on me to your mom?”

“I’d never rat on you. Unless some other girl touches you. Then I will tell mommy for sure.”

“You’re touching me right now,” he points out.

“That’s different. I’m allowed.”

“Says who?”

“You’re my dad. You helped make me.  I still don’t understand how though. How’d you help? How’d you get me in mommy’s tummy?”

“I just did. You don’t need to know how.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Ready to go?”

“Ready!” she chirps, and then wriggles her way around to his back; wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso.

“You’re choking me,” he gasps and gags dramatically

“Sorry,” Millie laughs, and he waits until she once more gets herself up onto his shoulder, hands tightly gripping his hair as he stands up. “Don’t drop me!” she pleads. “You’re a giant and I’ve got a long way to fall!”

“Your hard head will protect you,” he assures her.

“I don’t have a hard head. That’s mean, daddy. Let’s go to the dollar store!” she declares, as he tosses the empty bowls and dirty spoons into the trash.

“No way. I take you in there, I’m stuck there for hours.”

“I need craft paper. And glitter.”

“For what?”

“Birthday invitations. I want to make my own. You can help.”

“That’s more your mother’s thing.”

“Mommy does enough. You can help.”

“Millie...”

“Daddy...” she giggles.

“How do you always manage to talk me into these things?”

“Because you love me and I’m your favorite.”

“Fifteen minutes in the store. In and out.”

“Twenty if the line is long,” Millie debates.

“I’m only agreeing to twenty if you use your allowance and buy me a Gatorade.

She laughs and rests her chin on the top of his head. “Deal.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

[hlupdate]

Harry Styles twirls in the center of the floor of the L.A. Forum, dancing wildly to his new song “Golden.” The venue is deserted. It’s Thursday afternoon, just a few hours before the release of his hotly awaited second album, Fine Line. He’s rehearsing for Friday night’s big album-release celebration show. (Outside the arena, the parking lot is full of tents—fans from around the world have been camping out all week, awaiting a spot on this floor.) After a few hours of rehearsing with his band, Harry cuts loose as the new album begins to blast over the speakers, breaking into a dance of joy. It’s probably the last time he’ll ever hear this song in a room where nobody else is dancing.

Backstage, he lounges on a leather couch in his corduroy flares, a string of pearls and a yellow T-shirt depicting a panda and the words “I’m Gonna Die Lonely.” He and his musical wingman, Tom “Kid Harpoon” Hull, argue over the set list for the upcoming world tour, even though it doesn’t start until April. His mother reaches for an apple; ever the dutiful rock-star son, Harry directs her to the bowl where the tastier apples are hidden. He’s restless with anticipation for the world to hear his new songs, and he’s not doing a great job of hiding it.

Fine Line is the soulful, expansive, joyous pop masterpiece Harry’s been reaching for ever since he blew up nearly ten years ago, as the heart-throb of One Direction. As he sings in “Lights Up,” the single that dropped in September, he’s stepping into the light. “It all just comes down to I’m having more fun, I guess,” he says. “I think ‘Lights Up’ came at the end of a long period of self-reflection, self-acceptance,” he says. “Through the two years of making the record I went through a lot of personal changes—I just had the conversations with myself that you don’t always have. And I just feel more comfortable being myself.”

His life has changed in oh so many ways—some involving the occasional magic mushroom, others involving the even more psychedelic power of a broken heart. The music ranges from the Laurel Canyon hippie soft-rock vibe of “Canyon Moon”—Harry calls it “Crosby, Stills and Nash on steroids”—to the R&B pulse of “Adore You.” Fine Line is a break-up album that’s often sorrowful, but reflecting the introspective evolution of a 25-year-old navigating the seas of Having Sex and Feeling Sad, despite having spent so much of his youth in the spotlight. He’s refusing to follow trends or fit any formula. “The overall arc is just that I tried to redefine what success means to me. I tried to rewire what I thought about it. A lot changes in two years, especially after coming out of the band and just working out what life is now. I feel so much freer, making this album—you get to a place where you feel happy even if the song is about the time when you weren’t that happy.”

The first time Harry played this album for me, back in June, it was a few miles away in L.A.’s Henson Studios, the same room where his idol Carole King made Tapestry—for him, sacred ground. “I look back on the last album,” he said then, referring to his 2017 solo debut. “And I thought I was being so honest, just because there’s one line about having a wank. I had no idea. You write a song that’s pretty open and honest, and you think that’s just my song, but then you hand it over to people, and it’s like, ‘Oh fuck!’ Until people hear them, they’re not even songs. They’re just voice notes.”

Here is Harry’s song-by-song guide to Fine Line—along the creative and emotional journey he took while making it.

“Golden” The first song written for Fine Line, on the second day of the sessions at Shangri-La Studios in Malibu. “That was always the first one I played to people,” he says. “That was just always going to be Track One.” It’s a blast of vintage Seventies SoCal soft-rock, the kind of Laurel Canyon mellowness that suffused his first album, layered in guitars and harmonies. “When we wrote ‘Golden,’ we were sitting around the kitchen in the studio, and I was playing it on guitar. There were five of us singing the harmonies—the acoustics in the kitchen made it sound so cool, so we thought, this song’s gonna work.”

Even in this sunny SoCal pop tune, there’s a tinge of bittersweet loss—as the sun goes down, he pleads, “I don’t wanna be alone.” As he says, “I don’t know much about Van Morrison’s life—but I know how he felt about this girl, because he put it in a song. So I like working the same way.”

“Watermelon Sugar” Harry did this fruit-crazed jam on Saturday Night Live, stretching out with his live band. He wrote “Watermelon Sugar” with producer Tyler Johnson, Tom Hull and guitar sidekick Mitch Rowland; as with the whole album, he worked with members of his tight rotating cast of friends and collaborators, rather than the usual hit squad of pros. “If you’re going in with session writers or something, you spend one or two days there, and there is no way that person really cares about your album as much as you do. Because they’re into something else tomorrow. I know that Mitch, Tyler, Tom, Sammy [Witte], Jeff [Bhasker] wanted the album to be as good as I wanted to be. They don’t care about if it’s their song or not. They’re not concerned how many songs they get on an album. They want it to be the best album it can possibly be. We’ll bond over music we love and things we’re going through. It’s not like there’s one person in the group that’s like, ‘Well, no, I don’t talk about that. I just make beats.’”

A massive influence on the album—and on his life—is his experience on his first solo tour, stepping out without One Direction. “The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs. For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, ‘Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’ That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. The fans in the room is this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.”

“Adore You” “‘Adore You’ is the poppiest song on the album,” he says of the latest single. “This time I really felt so much less afraid to write fun pop songs. It had to do with the whole thing of being on tour and feeling accepted. I listen to stuff like Harry Nilsson and Paul Simon and Van Morrison, and I think, well, Van Morrison has ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and Nilsson has ‘Coconut.’ Bowie has ‘Let’s Dance.’ The fun stuff is important.”

“Lights Up” After kicking off his solo career with “Sign of the Times,” a sprawling glam-rock piano epic, Harry surprised many fans with his first single from Fine Line: a succinct, sleek R&B groove. “When I played it for the label, I told them, this is the first single. It’s two minutes thirty-five. You’re welcome.” It came late in the sessions—“Lights Up,” “Treat People with Kindness” and “Adore You” were written in the final week this spring, in a burst of inspiration.

For Harry it has something to do with stepping out on his own. When he began songwriting, it was as a member of the group. “‘Happily,” that was the first time I saw my name in the credits. I liked that. But I knew I’d only sing part of it. I knew if I wrote a really personal song, I wouldn’t sing it. It was like a safety net. If a song was too personal, I could back away and say, ‘Well, I don’t have anything to do with it.’ The writing was like, “Well if I was going to write a song about myself, I’d probably never sing it.” It’s like story-telling sometimes if you’re like telling a really personal story then the voice changes every few lines, it doesn’t quite do the same thing. As the songs got more personal, I think I just became more aware that at some point there might be a moment where I would want to sing it myself.”

“A turning point was “Two Ghosts,” a ballad from his solo debut. “’Two Ghosts’ I wrote for the band, for Made In the AM. But the story was just a bit too personal. As I started opening up to write my more personal stuff, I just became aware of a piece of me going, ‘I want to sing the whole thing.’ Now I look at a track list and these are all my little babies. So every time I’m playing a song, I can remember writing it, and exactly where we were and exactly what happened in my life when I wrote it. So the whole show is this massive emotional journey, you know? That’s a big difference, rather than every twenty minutes you go, ‘Oh, I remember this one.’”

“Cherry” The most powerful moment on Fine Line—a raw confession of jealousy. His engineer Sammy Witte was playing an acoustic guitar riff that Harry overheard and loved. “That was the moment of saying, yeah, I want my songs to sound like that,” he says. It ends with a female voice speaking French, while Harry jams on guitar. “That’s just a voice note of my ex-girlfriend talking. I was playing guitar and she took a phone call—and she was actually speaking in the key of the song.”

“Falling” A dreamy soul ballad. “Tom had come up to my place to grab something and he’d sat at the piano and I’d just got out of the shower and he started playing, and then we wrote it there. So I was completely naked when I wrote that song.”

“To be So Lonely” “The song ‘To Be So Lonely’ is just really like articulation of Mitch’s brain. Even when Mitch plays to himself, he’s got the swing.” The song was composed on a guitalele—a ukulele with six strings. “They’re really good for writing on, because you can travel with them. I had one of those with me in Japan, so they’re really good for spur-of-the-moment ideas.”

“She” A fantastic six-minute rock epic with a loopy guitar excursion, as if the Prince circa “Purple Rain” jammed with Pink Floyd circa “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” “Mitch played that guitar when he was a little, ah, influenced. Well, he was on mushrooms, we all were. We had no idea what we were doing. We forgot all about that track, then went back later and loved it. But Mitch had no idea what he did on guitar that night, so he had to learn it all over from the track. That one to me feels really British. I usually sing with a slight American twang, because the first person I ever listened to was Elvis Presley. When I’ve been doing the track listing, and ticking off the ones to definitely make the album, it’s always in the first three to be ticked. That’s a phenomenal song.”

“Sunflower, Vol. 6” An experimental trip with “deep cut” written all over it. “I would love people to listen to the whole album. I want people to listen to every song. Even with streaming and playlists, I love listening to records top to bottom. So I want to make make albums that I want to listen to top to bottom, because that’s just how I listen to music.”

“Canyon Moon” “I was in a pretty big Joni hole,” Harry admits. Inspired by his Southern California surroundings—and his obsession with Joni Mitchell’s 1971 classic Blue—he tracked down Joellen Lapidus, the woman who built the dulcimer Mitchell plays all over that album. Back in the day, Lapidus introduced Mitchell to the wonders of the mountain dulcimer; Joni took it backpacking around Europe and wrote some of her most classic songs on it. Harry and Tom Hull got their first lesson in the instrument from Lapidus herself, at her house in Culver City. He proudly calls this song “Crosby, Stills and Nash on steroids.” When he played Fine Line for Stevie Nicks this summer, she picked this as her favorite—and as you may know, Stevie’s opinion means a lot to the young man she called “my little muse Harry Styles.”

“Treat People With Kindness” This up-with-people sing-along doesn’t sound like anything else on the album. It began after the slogan was featured prominently on Harry’s first solo tour. “I told Jeff, I would love to someday write a song called ‘Treat People With Kindness.’ And he was like, ‘Why don’t you just do it?’ It made me uncomfortable at first, because I wasn’t sure what it was—but then I wanted to lean into that. I feel like that song opened something that’s been in my core.”

“Fine Line” The longest and most eccentric song on the album—one of the first to be written, as a simple folkie ballad, but it kept expanding and evolving. “It’s a weird one,” he says. “It started simple, but I wanted to have this big epic outro thing. And it just took shape as this thing where I thought, ‘That’s just like the music I want to make.’ I love strings, I love horns, I love harmonies—so why don’t we just put ALL of that in there?” It typifies the spirit of the whole project. But he knows he can’t please everyone. “When my granddad first heard ‘Lights Up,’ he was, ‘Yeah, I had to listen to it a couple times to get it. But I’m just glad you’re still working.’ It was funny, but I thought, I’m just glad I’m still working.”

#Harry Styles #fine line #stunt mention

[blog-nstuff2]

Harry Styles twirls in the center of the floor of the L.A. Forum, dancing wildly to his new song “Golden.” The venue is deserted. It’s Thursday afternoon, just a few hours before the release of his hotly awaited second album, Fine Line. He’s rehearsing for Friday night’s big album-release celebration show. (Outside the arena, the parking lot is full of tents — fans from around the world have been camping out all week, awaiting a spot on this floor.) After a few hours of rehearsing with his band, Styles cuts loose as the new album begins to blast over the speakers, breaking into a dance of joy. It’s probably the last time he’ll ever hear this song in a room where nobody else is dancing.

Backstage, he lounges on a leather couch in his corduroy flares, a string of pearls, and a yellow T-shirt depicting a panda and the words “I’m Gonna Die Lonely.” He and his musical wingman, Tom “Kid Harpoon” Hull, argue over the set list for the upcoming world tour, even though it doesn’t start until April. His mother reaches for an apple; ever the dutiful rock-star son, Styles directs her to the bowl where the tastier apples are hidden. He’s restless with anticipation for the world to hear his new songs, and he’s not doing a great job of hiding it.

Fine Line is the soulful, expansive, joyous pop masterpiece Styles has been reaching for ever since he blew up nearly 10 years ago, as the heartthrob of One Direction. As he sings in “Lights Up,” the single that dropped in September, he’s stepping into the light. “It all just comes down to I’m having more fun, I guess,” he says. “I think ‘Lights Up’ came at the end of a long period of self-reflection, self-acceptance,” he says. “Through the two years of making the record I went through a lot of personal changes — I just had the conversations with myself that you don’t always have. And I just feel more comfortable being myself.”

His life has changed in oh-so-many ways — some involving the occasional magic mushroom, others involving the even more psychedelic power of a broken heart. The music ranges from the Laurel Canyon hippie soft-rock vibe of “Canyon Moon” — Styles calls it “Crosby, Stills, and Nash on steroids” — to the R&B pulse of “Adore You.” Fine Line is a breakup album that’s often sorrowful but reflects the introspective evolution of a 25-year-old navigating the seas of having sex and feeling sad, despite Styles having spent so much of his youth in the spotlight. He’s refusing to follow trends or fit any formula. “The overall arc is just that I tried to redefine what success means to me. I tried to rewire what I thought about it. A lot changes in two years, especially after coming out of the band and just working out what life is now. I feel so much freer, making this album — you get to a place where you feel happy even if the song is about the time when you weren’t that happy.”

The first time Styles played this album for me, back in June, it was a few miles away, in L.A.’s Henson Studios, the same room where his idol Carole King made Tapestry — for him, sacred ground. “I look back on the last album,” he said then, referring to his 2017 solo debut. “And I thought I was being so honest, just because there’s one line about having a wank. I had no idea. You write a song that’s pretty open and honest, and you think, ‘That’s just my song,’ but then you hand it over to people, and it’s like, ‘Oh fuck!’ Until people hear them, they’re not even songs. They’re just voice notes.”

Here is Styles’ song-by-song guide to Fine Line — along the creative and emotional journey he took while making it.

“Golden” The first song written for Fine Line, on the second day of the sessions at Shangri-La Studios in Malibu. “That was always the first one I played to people,” he says. “That was just always going to be Track One.” It’s a blast of vintage Seventies SoCal soft rock, the kind of Laurel Canyon mellowness that suffused his first album, layered in guitars and harmonies. “When we wrote ‘Golden,’ we were sitting around the kitchen in the studio, and I was playing it on guitar. There were five of us singing the harmonies — the acoustics in the kitchen made it sound so cool, so we thought, this song’s gonna work.”

Even in this sunny SoCal pop tune, there’s a tinge of bittersweet loss: As the sun goes down, he pleads, “I don’t wanna be alone.” As he says, “I don’t know much about Van Morrison’s life, but I know how he felt about this girl, because he put it in a song. So I like working the same way.”

“Watermelon Sugar” Styles did this fruit-crazed jam on Saturday Night Live, stretching out with his live band. He wrote “Watermelon Sugar” with producer Tyler Johnson, Tom Hull, and guitar sidekick Mitch Rowland; as with the whole album, he worked with members of his tight rotating cast of friends and collaborators, rather than the usual hit squad of pros. “If you’re going in with session writers or something, you spend one or two days there, and there is no way that person really cares about your album as much as you do. Because they’re into something else tomorrow. I know that Mitch, Tyler, Tom, Sammy [Witte], Jeff [Bhasker] wanted the album to be as good as I wanted to be. They don’t care if it’s their song or not. They’re not concerned how many songs they get on an album. They want it to be the best album it can possibly be. We’ll bond over music we love and things we’re going through. It’s not like there’s one person in the group that’s like, ‘Well, no, I don’t talk about that. I just make beats.’”

A massive influence on the album — and on his life — is his experience on his first solo tour, stepping out without One Direction. “The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs. For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, ‘Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’ That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. The fans in the room [make] this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.”

“Adore You” “‘Adore You’ is the poppiest song on the album,” he says of the latest single. “This time I really felt so much less afraid to write fun pop songs. It had to do with the whole thing of being on tour and feeling accepted. I listen to stuff like Harry Nilsson and Paul Simon and Van Morrison, and I think, well, Van Morrison has ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and Nilsson has ‘Coconut.’ Bowie has ‘Let’s Dance.’ The fun stuff is important.”

“Lights Up” After kicking off his solo career with “Sign of the Times,” a sprawling glam-rock piano epic, Styles surprised many fans with his first single from Fine Line: a succinct, sleek R&B groove. “When I played it for the label, I told them, ‘This is the first single. It’s two minutes, thirty-five. You’re welcome.’” It came late in the sessions: “Lights Up,” “Treat People with Kindness,” and “Adore You” were written in the final week this spring, in a burst of inspiration.

For Styles, it has something to do with stepping out on his own. When he began songwriting, it was as a member of the group. “‘Happily’ was the first time I saw my name in the credits. I liked that,” he says. “But I knew I’d only sing part of it. I knew if I wrote a really personal song, I wouldn’t sing it. It was like a safety net. If a song was too personal, I could back away and say, ‘Well, I don’t have anything to do with it.’ The writing was like, ‘Well, if I was going to write a song about myself, I’d probably never sing it.’ It’s like storytelling. Sometimes if you’re, like, telling a really personal story, then the voice changes every few lines; it doesn’t quite do the same thing. As the songs got more personal, I think I just became more aware that at some point there might be a moment where I would want to sing it myself.”

A turning point was “Two Ghosts,” a ballad from his solo debut. “’Two Ghosts’ I wrote for the band, for Made in the A.M. But the story was just a bit too personal. As I started opening up to write my more personal stuff, I just became aware of a piece of me going, ‘I want to sing the whole thing.’ Now I look at a track list and these are all my little babies. So every time I’m playing a song, I can remember writing it, and exactly where we were and exactly what happened in my life when I wrote it. So the whole show is this massive emotional journey, you know? That’s a big difference, rather than every 20 minutes you go, ‘Oh, I remember this one.’”

“Cherry” The most powerful moment on Fine Line — a raw confession of jealousy. His engineer Sammy Witte was playing an acoustic guitar riff that Styles overheard and loved. “That was the moment of saying, ‘Yeah, I want my songs to sound like that,’” he says. It ends with a female voice speaking French, while Harry jams on guitar. “That’s just a voice note of my ex-girlfriend talking. I was playing guitar and she took a phone call — and she was actually speaking in the key of the song.”

“Falling” A dreamy soul ballad. “Tom had come up to my place to grab something, and he’d sat at the piano and I’d just got out of the shower. He started playing, and we wrote it there. So I was completely naked when I wrote that song.”

“To Be So Lonely” “The song ‘To Be So Lonely’ is just really like the articulation of Mitch’s brain,” Styles says. “Even when Mitch plays to himself, he’s got the swing.” The song was composed on a guitalele — a ukulele with six strings. “They’re really good for writing on, because you can travel with them. I had one of those with me in Japan, so they’re really good for spur-of-the-moment ideas.”

“She” A fantastic six-minute rock epic with a loopy guitar excursion, as if Prince circa “Purple Rain” jammed with Pink Floyd circa “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” “Mitch played that guitar when he was a little, ah, influenced,” Styles says. “Well, he was on mushrooms, we all were. We had no idea what we were doing. We forgot all about that track, then went back later and loved it. But Mitch had no idea what he did on guitar that night, so he had to learn it all over from the track. That one to me feels really British. I usually sing with a slight American twang, because the first person I ever listened to was Elvis Presley. When I’ve been doing the track listing, and ticking off the ones to definitely make the album, it’s always in the first three to be ticked. That’s a phenomenal song.”

“Sunflower, Vol. 6” An experimental trip with “deep cut” written all over it: “I would love people to listen to the whole album. I want people to listen to every song. Even with streaming and playlists, I love listening to records top to bottom. So I want to make make albums that I want to listen to top to bottom, because that’s just how I listen to music.”

“Canyon Moon” “I was in a pretty big Joni hole,” Style admits. Inspired by his Southern California surroundings — and his obsession with Joni Mitchell’s 1971 classic Blue — he tracked down Joellen Lapidus, the woman who built the dulcimer Mitchell plays throughout that album. Back in the day, Lapidus introduced Mitchell to the wonders of the mountain dulcimer; she took it backpacking around Europe and wrote some of her most classic songs on it. Styles and Tom Hull got their first lesson in the instrument from Lapidus herself, at her house in Culver City. He proudly calls this song “Crosby, Stills, and Nash on steroids.” When he played Fine Line for Stevie Nicks this summer, she picked this as her favorite — and as you may know, Stevie’s opinion means a lot to the young man she called “my little muse Harry Styles.”

“Treat People With Kindness” This up-with-people singalong doesn’t sound like anything else on the album. It began after the slogan was featured prominently on Styles’ first solo tour: “I told Jeff, I would love to someday write a song called ‘Treat People With Kindness.’ And he was like, ‘Why don’t you just do it?’ It made me uncomfortable at first, because I wasn’t sure what it was — but then I wanted to lean into that. I feel like that song opened something that’s been in my core.”

“Fine Line” The longest and most eccentric song on the album — one of the first to be written, as a simple folky ballad, but it kept expanding and evolving. “It’s a weird one,” Styles says. “It started simple, but I wanted to have this big epic outro thing. And it just took shape as this thing where I thought, ‘That’s just like the music I want to make.’ I love strings, I love horns, I love harmonies — so why don’t we just put all of that in there?” It typifies the spirit of the whole project. But he knows he can’t please everyone. “When my granddad first heard ‘Lights Up,’ he was, ‘Yeah, I had to listen to it a couple times to get it. But I’m just glad you’re still working.’ It was funny, but I thought, I’m just glad I’m still working.”

#rolling stone #dec 2019 #written by rob sheffield

[wknc881]

CLASSIC REVIEW: DEAD KENNEDYS- Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables 

BEST TRACKS: Kill the Poor, Holiday in Cambodia, California Uber Alles, Ill in the Head

  “Just when you think tastelessness has reached its nadir, along comes a punk rock group called ‘The Dead Kennedys'” read a San Francisco Chronicle article from November 1978, “they will play at Mabuhay Gardens on Nov. 22, the 15th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination.“  Geez, what kind of chutzpah do you need to mock America’s most tragically iconic family on the anniversary of its most notable horror? Well, the Dead Kennedys were all chutzpah; in fact, they were practically bursting at the seams to brutally mock any American institution guilty of abhorrent injustice (and of course, there are many).  Though not attacking the Kennedy family directly so as to twist the magic bullet (I’m sorry), the apparent curse upon the 20th-century clan of American idealism was a perfect brand for a group whose entire existence hinged on a sardonic articulation of anarchist paragons. The Dead Kennedys were the first explicitly political American punk band.  Bands like X or Black Flag may have been indirectly political in their focus on youthful alienation, but the Dead Kennedys, specifically lead singer Jello Biafra, were completely committed to calling out by name each and every faceless establishment villain who was unfortunate enough to find themselves caught in Biafra’s latex-coated crosshairs. It was not introspection; it was full-fleshed Juvenalian satire. While Black Flag was screaming about being a skate-punk burnout in LA basements, the DKs were hammering Pol Pot, Jerry Brown’s “zen fascists”, privileged college students, unmitigated capitalism, and police brutality in San Francisco’s, well, basements.  Their sound was an absurd combination of screeching feedback, overly laid-back surf rock, spoken word, and performance art. Biafra, always keen on any form of the alternative spotlight, was never at a loss for intentionally aggravating pranks which furthered his desire for total demolition of post-war America. These included illegally using warped pictures of other bands for liner notes, abrasively declaring that then-Governor Jerry Brown was actually a hippie Nazi, or running for mayor of San Francisco on a platform of outlawing cars and demolishing all Government buildings. Whatever cliched pattern that today’s alternative rock falls behind in their lazy conviction of powers-that-be (ahem American Idiot) is derivative of the Dead Kennedy’s extremely meticulous establishment of punk rock as a political force.  They were ideologically consistent, absolutely non-partisan, and, perhaps most importantly, fully committed to an absurdist approach to music that highlighted the very serious realities of injustice. 

  In 1978’s San Francisco, 20-year-old guitarist Raymond Pepperell put out an ad in “The Recycler” for bandmates for form a punk group.  Two people responded: bassist (and banker) Geoffrey Lyall and poet/singer Eric Boucher. The three were rechristened as East Bay Ray, Klaus Flouride and, of course, Jello Biafra.  Their first shows around the Bay Area garnered significant attention (both positive and negative) for somehow being in worse taste than even the raunchiest American punk acts. Cartoonish, catchy, and absolutely confrontational, Biafra gained infamy through his highly animated stage presence which included often dousing the audience in beer or destroying pieces of the stage.  It is important to note, however, that the Kennedy’s performative violence was not out of angst, but rather part of a tongue-in-cheek attitude towards the establishment. A typical snapshot of a Kennedy’s live performance saw East Bay Ray hammering away at distorted spaghetti western riff while Biafra bellowed out how much the government wanted to kill you while kicking at the walls with a massive grin on his face. Declaring himself the band’s primary songwriter, Biafra would tape record melodies using only his voice which his band would later transcribe onto their respective instruments.  Of their early written material, one song stood out for being particularly catchy and scathing. “California Uber Alles” was released Summer of 1979 as the Dead Kennedys’ first single. With military-esque drumming, bastardized surf guitar, a cheeky flamenco melody, Jello’s typical outrageous bellow, and lyrics condemning then Democratic Governor Jerry Brown as a hippie fascist, the band distilled everything in within the DKs essence into their very first recording. And while their embrace of non-power chord guitar lines and heavy political overtones was enough to set them apart from any American contemporary, it was “California Uber Alles’” subject matter which is most representative of while the Dead Kennedys were such a unique and integral group.  Attacking Jerry Brown, at first, is incredibly confusing. Ronald Reagan, Brown’s predecessor as California’s governor, had just been elected president and, unsurprisingly, was incredibly unpopular among punks. Why would they go after California’s new “cool guy” Democrat as opposed to Ronald fucking Reagan? Well, simply put, the Gipper was too easy a target. Jello Biafra wanted confrontation, an interruption of American organization beyond partisan attacks on low-hanging fruit. Of course Reagan was terrible, but so was Brown. The Dead Kennedys were anarchists; attacking Reagan would be redundant and a lazy cash grab for a band whose entire ethos hinged on a dismantling of the state. And ultimately this decision was imperative for the band eventually signing a deal with independent British label Cherry Red; the DKs now had the chance to record a full length album.  A whole album was given to Biafra and his band to yelp and screech about international injustice in the most sarcastic manner possible. As one would expect, it’s a lot to get through in one sitting; and as one would expect, it’s an amazing album. 

  “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables” opens with a fitting introduction to the listeners next 40 minutes of acerbic, macabre, and ludicrous fun: “Kill the Poor”.  The song begins with massive chords reminiscent of over bloated 70s arena rock laid on top of Biafra’s lyrics concerning a government who has discovered the neutron bomb and will subsequently use it to kill all of their nation’s poor.  A blistering surf-punk riff tears down its introduction and the song instantly transforms into a breakneck bounce of sing-along melodies that wouldn’t be out of place in a Disney movie. “Kill the Poor”, despite its placement at the top of the tracklist, is a pinnacle only matched by two other tracks. One of these is a crisp re-recording of “California Uber Alles” while the other is, well, probably pretty familiar to a lot of you readers.  The Guitar Hero Classic: “Holiday in Cambodia”. The angst-infected alt-classic opens with an atmosphere, echoed guitar chaos lightly strewn over the unforgettably chunky, descending bass riff before erupting into the bone-chillingly excellent main riff. Churning like an unpleasant halloween acid trip, the song is undoubtedly Biafra’s most scathing performance on the album. As he attacks privileged Americans by contrasting their life with victims of Pol Pot’s Cambodian regime, the other Kennedys lock into a terrifying groove filled with bastard surf motifs and disgustingly sweet distortion. The chorus, as with any classic Dead Kennedys track, is incredibly catchy.  It entices the listener to sing it to themselves when they’re aren’t even thinking of it, as if to trick them into condemning very basic pieces of American civilization. There’s a reason “Holiday in Cambodia” is still the DKs most well known song: it’s haunting, brutally honest, wholly subversive, genius, ear candy. 

  “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables” is the album most people immediately associate with the Dead Kennedys, and this is by no means something to complain about.  Hosting three of the bands best songs and even providing insanely smart and concise parody in its filler, the album is a perfect representation of punk rock’s potential as a force of American political commentary.  No punk band before the DKs came close to explicitly tackling horrendous societal hypocrisies and I don’t believe any band that has come since has done this nearly as well. In an alternate timeline without our anarchist heroes, the landscape of all American music would be undoubtedly changed.

  -Cliff Jenkins