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the-gazette-archive · 3 years

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the GazettE English Interview: MASS

Congratulations! Tenth album! It’s a big milestone. Could you tell us about getting your first major release? What were your feelings and hopes in those days?

RUKI: The first album we released under a major contract was our second, NIL. Looking back to those days, there are some parts that feel the same as today. Being "indie" or "major", I was never really aware of being either, and I still feel that way now. My focus has always been on the work we're putting out and how to keep surprising fans.

URUHA: Back in those days I wasn't aware that a major debut was an option for the GazettE, so I didn't really have any expectations. And not much has changed since then, our driving force remains the same; to keep making songs and performances to the best of our abilities.

AOI: I never expected to be in a band that could make as many as ten albums! I would like to thank all of the fans who have supported us along the way.

REITA: I remember desperately trying to make the first album with no knowledge of the right way to do it, but I worked hoping that we could make something that a lot of other people would listen to. That feeling keeps getting stronger and stronger.

KAI: To be honest, I never expected to be in a band that would last such a long time! This is also thanks to all the fans from all over the world that have supported us! Thank you very much.

Did you have a list of things you wanted to accomplish back then?

RUKI: One of the things I wanted to achieve back then was to build on our live activities, playing in small venues, and building our way up to be a band that plays large concert halls or arenas. Naturally, I also wanted as many people as possible to know about the band. Now we're focusing on perfecting our live show and evolving our music.

URUHA: At that time my main goal was to keep playing bigger and bigger shows.

AOI: I think they were pretty much the same as other bands who grew up around the 80's-90's music scene, although I think we achieved almost all of them.

REITA: I'd never really set any goals in terms of selling a certain amount of CDs or performing a number of shows. Our goal was to be a cool band.

KAI: I don't remember any clear goals except always aiming for the top!

Have you accomplished everything on the list?

RUKI: Not yet, but in a sense there's no goal.

URUHA: I've realised that it's a goal that can always be bettered.

AOI: Does it count being recognised by many people and becoming a professional musician?

REITA: Not yet, but we're always getting one step closer.

KAI: We're still trying.

Has the GazettE's progression changed in ways you didn't expect?

RUKI: I think it's been different to what I originally imagined for us, but in a good way.

URUHA: We haven't really evolved in the way that was expected, but that's not necessarily bad.

AOI: the GazettE has never once welcomed a producer. It certainly gave us endless freedom, but it also takes a lot of time to evolve. I've enjoyed all the unexpected twists and turns along the way, so I'm very happy about the progress we've made, even the smaller steps.

REITA: It's taking longer than I expected, but we're still evolving.

KAI: Being able to attract attention from all over the world is really beyond my imagination!

When I first heard 'NOX' and 'LAST SONG' from the MASS sampler I had goosebumps from excitement. They sound so fresh, modern and different to your releases so far, yet they still sound very much "the GazettE". To us, it feels like you have at least two songs each album that really stand out as different to anything you've previously done. Is this something you're consciously aiming for?

RUKI: It'd make me very happy if you feel the freshness and evolution in the band in not just those tracks, but the entire album. What's always in my mind when song writing is whether we can excite ourselves as well as the listener. I believe that if something excites us, it will naturally pump up the listener too.

URUHA: I'm grateful that you felt that way. Despite a new approach and nuance to our sound, what underlies it is clearly the GazettE.

REITA: It's difficult to make something our own and keep things fresh, I’m glad that you could understand and appreciate that.

"Come back to the light" seems to echo through MASS. It's also among the only times English is used on the album, which makes it feel even more special and targeted. Is this a key theme to MASS? What other themes are there?

RUKI: "Come back to the light" can be thought of how we feel regarding live performances at this time. It's both our raison d'etre and the reason for making music. The pandemic forced us to stay still, so this album offers hope for this situation.

Who have you been listening to recently? We've been going through The Offspring's discography again, it made the pandemic a bit more enjoyable.

URUHA: For me, it's been Bring Me The Horizon, Northlane and ZEDD.

AOI: I was working on MASS right up to the final minutes of release, so I haven’t had much time to chill out and listen to what's going on right now. I’m always working on rock music, so when I’m by myself lately I tend to listen to jazz.

REITA: Hey! The Offspring happen to be one of my favourite bands of the last 25 years! I still listen to them now. I didn't expect others to be listening to them during the pandemic. When they come to Japan I go and see them.

KAI: The Offspring, great! Personally, I’ve been really into Japanese artist Ado-san recently.

Your music video always seem so cinematic, BLINDING HOPE especially! Who are some of your favourite movie directors, and have their works directly influences some of your work?

RUKI: I watch a lot of movies and music videos, regardless of genre. So I wouldn't say a particular single director has had a distinct influence, rather it's the accumulation of the lighting, camera work and story editing that I've seen up to this point that is reflected in the video for 'BLINDING HOPE'.

As always, thank you for the overseas releases and for the world tours. We think you're in a very rare position as a band from Japan, to have had such a big impact overseas and to have toured the world. What kind of things have you learnt from these interactions and experiences?

RUKI: While working mainly from Japan, our material has reached all over the world. It's a miraculous feeling to know that. And with regards to touring, the experience of performing on stage in various countries has definitely strengthened our spirit perhaps even more than our music. I feel that the GazettE in its current form has been established by it.

URUHA: What had a big influence on me was how the way of communicating varies from country to country, but the fans could still show their excitement and feelings beside us on stage. That really left an impression on me in a good way.

AOI: I could feel it in the last world tour. I felt that it’s gone from "Japanese music being enjoyed by a core audience" to a much more general audience of "people enjoying a show". From these experiences, I came to think about all of our projects in way in which overseas fans can also enjoy.

REITA: It's great motivation to know that people are rooting for you all over the world. It's also interesting to see that the songs that get the crowd going overseas are different to those in Japan, it's fun to notice those details.

KAI: I think these experiences overseas have definitely improved the band! It broadens our horizons as well as influences the music we make!

Any final messages for international fans who bought MASS?

RUKI: Once the global pandemic is under control, the GazettE will be back on stage with our latest progression. Please wait for it, we're looking forward to that time.

URUHA: Thank you for your continued support. What did you think about our new album MASS? How happy it would make me to play in front of you all again someday. I hope that time will come and that if you have a chance, you come and join us on tour!

AOI: I'm definitely coming back to the UK once the pandemic's over. We're preparing for that day and very much looking forward to it. Until then, please listen to MASS to get you in the spirit. Also, don't forgot to check out the member's Twitter and Instagram accounts. So, until we meet again...!

REITA: Thank you as always! I am looking forward to the day we will be able to get excited with everyone on a world tour again. Until then, please take care of yourselves and have fun. I Really want to meet you. Please listen to MASS a lot until then.

KAI: I don't know when it will be, but we definitely want to do another world tour! Please wait!

Source: https://jpurecords.com/blogs/news/the-gazette-english-interview-mass

#the GazettE #interview #JPU Records

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thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness · 3 years

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Kaoru & Toshiya Rolling Stone Japan 18th May 2021

DIR EN GREY talks about the current unique expression method and fun.

DIR EN GREY has postponed their concert scheduled to be held at Tokyo Garden Theater on May 6th. However, if you read this interview that took place two days before the decision to postpone the live, it's easy to imagine that the band will continue to move forward no matter what.

Using the single "Oboro" released on April 28 as the reason for this interview , we asked leader Kaoru (Gt) and Toshiya (Ba),who makes his first appearance in Rolling Stone Japan, about the current state of the band.

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes or any confusing parts. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated : ------------- Original interview: Rolling Stone Japan (includes pictures)

Text: Joe Yokomizo -First of all, please tell us the details of releasing this single at this timing. Kaoru: We've been talking about releasing a single around this time for a long time. But, we were asked by the company to release it sooner (laughs). They told us “Can’t you release it around February?”. But we said we couldn’t record it in such a hurry and pushed the release back (laughs). So, the release was decided at the time it was originally scheduled.

-Is it a song you wrote recently?

Kaoru: We chose it from the ones we had in stock.

-How do you choose a song? Like, is there a discussion among the members? Kaoru: We had a talk about if it’d be good to release a ballad or a melodious song this time. Then, we chose it from the songs we had at that time. Toshiya: That's right. We thought a melodious song or a mellow song would be good, so we chose it from the songs we had in stock. As a result of the discussions we had, we came to the conclusion that “Oboro” was the best choice. I personally thought this song might be able to become a single, but I also thought that it could be a good idea to save it for the album. I thought it could become a song that would be the core of the album even if it was just included in the album. Kaoru: We haven’t released any ballad as a single recently. We did it quite a while ago so we felt like it would be good if we tried it.

-It's true that a ballad as a single is quite fresh for DIR EN GREY, and the arrangements are ... Kaoru: Simple. Pretty simple, but it took us a while to get there. -Do you want to increase the number of notes that are being played at the same time? Kaoru: No. Rather than messing with that, it felt like the notes were gradually confronting each other. There wasn’t a big change, but it took us some time to decide the overall flow, how to do it and the final result. -DIR EN GREY has a strong image as a band that is playing lives often. Until now, you released something and toured, released something, and toured. All over again. The releases haven’t stopped yet but the tours and therefore the lives themselves have stopped because of Corona. How do you feel about the state of the band? Toshiya: Since we couldn’t play lives, I think the part of exploring as a band is big. But personally, at some point, I got over that. The band wants to move, but it’s hard to do it. Even if we think about it, we can’t do anything about the situation so, we haven’t stopped thinking about it, but I think we got over it at some point. Rather, we had no choice but to get over it. -Even if you keep thinking about it, nothing will happen.

Toshiya: That’s right. Even if we just write songs and do the pre-production all the time, if that’s all we are doing, it feels like a pie in the sky all the time. It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it? We didn’t get another answer before but, the process of getting that answer has changed. There was a series of routines like making an album, playing lives, making an album, and doing live performances after that but wasn’t that cut off entirely? Then, we are doing it as usual, but something has changed at some point. And it may just be that kind of era from now on. I think we have no choice but to adapt to this. However, even I think about how it was before, I’m starting to think that it won’t be like that again, and we may just get over it. -Did the production itself change due to the lack of lives? It is often said that a song evolves when it is being playing live, but if you make a song in a situation where it is difficult to imagine playing it live, will the image of the song, how to make it, and the depth of making it change? Kaoru: Even if we are making songs, it feels different from usual. To put it the other way around, as the situation is unique now, maybe it’s a song that can only be done at this moment. But it’s like…. wouldn't it be nice if we could create something interesting? I don't know if we are even thinking about it. I think that the fact that there was always a tour up until now had a big influence. As we always had a tour, until then we’ve limited production time. That's why there was a switch, because now we have infinite time. To be honest, if you take it easy, you’ll space out. After all, it was great to be pushed, force myself into doing it and work hard (laughs). -About making it “the right time” by themselves -Regarding the unlimited production time, how was it for you, Toshiya? Toshiya: I think I'm grateful. However, I want to use it as much as I have. As there were moments I got distracted/ was being lazy, I feel that there are good points and bad points, to be honest. -What's the good thing about this recording? Have you tried something new? Toshiya: After all, in the end time is chasing me (laughs). But this time, I felt that I had a little leeway in my heart. That's why I thought about the single in various ways.Then I wondered if I could release this or that and people would listen to it. It’s common to say this but, when you start thinking about figures, I've even thought about if it's good or bad to release something at this timing. I wondered if it’d be better when this corona situation has settled down a bit more. But well, even if you wait for that time to come, then I would wonder about when that time would come, so in the end, I thought it was unavoidable to think about it. If the right time doesn't come, I think we should make it become the “right time”. Rather than worrying about it, I thought that if such a song was completed and it felt good, we should release it. -It's certainly important to create the right timing. Toshiya: People all over the world are dealing with it now, or more like, we are waiting forever, aren’t we? Personally, I don’t think the situation will return to normal even if we wait. I think it’s more useful to think about how to proceed in a situation like this. I personally came this conclusion, or at least, I’m trying to. -Listening to what you are saying, I remembered Samuel Beckett's play "Waiting for Godot." The two main characters are waiting for Godot, but in fact, no one knows who Mr. Godot is, and I don't know if Godot actually exists. But they are waiting, believing that he will eventually come. Toshiya: Everyone, including myself, is waiting now. But what on earth are you waiting for? If you think about it, it’s like we're just waiting for "that moment”, right? But honestly, I don't think “that” will be back. I think it has changed. Then we have to move towards it. I'm a bit scared to stop waiting any longer, but I think we have to take a step forward. Kaoru: I agree with you. -DIR EN GREY Unique ideas -By the way, the new song "Oboro" is said to be a sequel to a previous song. The lyrics are done by vocalist Kyo but for you two, is it a sequel? Kaoru: I was told that but I wasn’t particularly drawn (by that song). The beats and tempo of the original song of "Oboro" are similar to that song. So maybe he was drawn by that and made the lyrics like this. After hearing that the lyrics would be like that, I've never been aware of it. Toshiya: I wasn't even aware of it at all either. I thought “is this it?”.

-By the way, in Toshiya's words, "Oboro" is a song that can be the core of the next album ... Toshiya: It’s just a song. The talks about the album are making rapid progress but now there are endless possibilities, including how to play the songs live. So, I think it's okay if there are songs that exist just as part of the album, and conversely, there may be songs that are only for playing them live. In other words, from here on, how to add value will become even more important than ever. Kaoru: It's nice to have songs that you can only play live. Toshiya: About that, if you might do that at that time, you might want to play it live? I’m thinking about how to add that value to the song. I want to do a live concert, but we can't, moreover if you even do a concert normally, I’m sure it won’t be interesting. -It looks like broadcasting a regular live is difficult, right? Kaoru: A live that it’s going to be only broadcasted is a bit tough. In that sense, hearing what Toshiya said about songs that only can be played at lives are, in other words, songs that won’t become part of an album are really interesting. Toshiya: I don’t know. I was thinking it to myself and I just said it (laughs). Kaoru: There may be quite a few….songs that are like, “Which one is this?". Moreover, no one mentions those songs in an interview (laughs). Toshiya: Ahahaha. Kaoru: Even among the fans, sometimes it’s like “which song is that one?”, and don’t even know the title. The set list doesn't even have the title of the song. Toshiya: I think it doesn't have to be just the song , but the production. I recently thought about it. In the past there used to be a lot of imaginativeness/ playfulness on the DIR EN GREY’s cds. Recently, I remembered that was pretty normal. But from now on, if we are going to put out the record ourselves, I want to make something that can be enjoyable. On the old DIR EN GREY cds, I remember I was asked to find out where the lyrics were written. When I think about it now, it's quite a prank, but that prank was surprisingly interesting. -How about the leader (laughs)? Kaoru: I put a lot of things into the sound (laughs). -The particularity/commitment in “Oboro” -The “mischievous and eccentric” idea that Toshiya mentioned is swallowed normally before one knows. I think expression itself is a struggle, but in the age of the Internet, the speed at which it is swallowed is accelerating. That’s why, even if that happens, I think it is important to keep fighting, recognizing that "I am not just like this". Kaoru: That's exactly what I do. Because I never thought I have a good taste. Even though I can’t make a song, it feels like I'm doing it just because I have a competitive spirit. -Like you don’t want to be taken into ordinary things, or do you want to do something that has never been seen before? Kaoru: I want to do that, but it takes time. Speaking of gimmicks, in “Oboro” there are a lot of them. -What kind of “gimmicks” are there? Please tell me some. Kaoru: It's not interesting if I told them (laughs). There are many sounds that you can't hear. There are lots of sounds that you can feel. I thought it would be great if you could feel it. And I'm thinking about putting a lot of that into the next album. -There is something I would like to ask about lives. I think we are in a situation where values are conflicting. If you play a live, even among fans there’ll be the conflict of the “Don’t play a live in these circumstances” versus the “Thank you for playing a concert in these circumstances” position. Kaoru: It's difficult, isn't it? Neither of these positions are wrong. However, as a band, we won’t stop. So, if the conditions allow it, the live will go on. I think there are a lot of people who says “"Oh, I'm going to live at a time like this. These people’s views have changed”. But well, I think this is happening in other bands as well. -That’s right. In any band, there is a faction that says to play lives and a faction that wants to stop. How should they come to terms with each other? Kaoru: I don’t think normal life will be back for a while here. If someone says “Yes, it’s nothing in the end”, it may change, but it’s that going to happen? The point is, I think it will be difficult unless the number of infected people goes down. Because Taiwan, where the number of infected people has decreased, there are even festivals taking place. Toshiya: We are choosing a method (against Corona virus) that doesn't work right now, but as it is the government who is doing it, isn’t the situation delicate? I think so. When it comes to what is driving people, I think it’s the number of people getting infected, as Kaoru said. The only way to reduce that number may simply cause damage. If you lock down hard like in the UK, you will suffer tremendous financial damage. I think that's why everyone can get lost on the way. However, although it is extreme, unless you have such a strong will, you will continue to do it subtlety and the number will drop again, “Oh, now it’s ok because the numbers have dropped a little” and then after a while they will surely increase again, won’t them? And then repeat the same process. If that happens, I’m worried the same process will be repeated again and again if you don’t cut it off at some point. Kaoru: Tokyo is under the state of emergency for the third time, but I would like them to stop doing lockdown so suddenly. It’s so hard if there is no warm-up/grace period.

Toshiya: Regarding this state of emergency, I will obey what they say, because I have to obey. But in order to do it, I want something that gives me hope. I feel like suddenly, time was taken from me. -Before the light can be seen, “Oboro” -I want hope. That being said, DIR EN GREY's music always sees light at the end. But in the current situation, we can't see that light. I don't think you can understand the meaning of the lyrics unless you're Kyo, but I'm wondering what "Oboro" means. Like, in this era everything is obscure in an ambiguous sense? Or is it a night with a hazy moon but, you can see the light even faintly because it’s hazy? How do you two interpret it?

*Joe is making a reference to the song title, 朧 (Oboro) means hazy,dim,faint.* Toshiya: If possible, I think I want it to be hazy before you are able to see the light. Before people lose the courage to do their best, being surrounded by fog all the time. - It's true that humans aren't that strong. If there is hope, what is it? What kind of hope are you seeing now? Toshiya: That would be ……the best would be that the Corona situation comes to an end. But before that, I'd like "Oboro" to be released properly. Some CD shops are closed due to a state of emergency, so even if you made a reservation, some people may not be able to get it on the release date. So, I hope that "Oboro" will reach everyone who made a reservation. -Which is Kaoru’s Oboro? Kaoru: I think either of them are interesting. In any situation as well, it’s something that it’s only now. It’s also an expression method that can only be done now. Of course, the band will continue, and I will be writing songs, but I think it would be great if we could express something that can only be done now, or something that is interesting. -Anyway, "Oboro" is an excellent title. Toshiya: When you think about it now, that’s right. It can be interpreted as this uncertain situation, and it can also be interpreted as a situation where a faint light is visible. Kaoru: I want you to listen to it and feel it.

#dir en grey #kaoru #toshiya #translation #toshiyatranslations

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rpf-bat · 4 years

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I Choose Defeat

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 5. Prompt: “Killing Romance.”

When Gerard makes the decision to ‘kill’ My Chemical Romance, your hidden feelings for him, turn to despair. You’re crushed by the reality that he’s no longer your bandmate, but you try your best to move on. Four years later, you have a quiet life in New Jersey - and a child that isn’t is. But, when you get a call in the middle of the night, asking you to get the band back together, you find yourself jumping at the chance.

You and the other members of My Chemical Romance, sat around a coffee table, at Reprise Records headquarters. You sipped from your mug anxiously, unsure why Gerard had called this meeting.

Is this about the new studio space?, you wondered. He did say he wanted to build a new recording spot, on his property, so that we’ll have an easier time, putting together the rest of the new album.

But, something in his melancholy expression, told you that he wasn’t here, to show off blueprints. His hazel eyes seemed to stare right through you.

You glanced at Frank on your right, and Ray and Mikey on your left. They seemed nervous, too, as they waited for Gerard to speak. The silence in the room was deafening.

“So,” Gerard said finally, “I’ve decided I quit.”

“What?” you blinked.

“I no longer want to be the vocalist of My Chemical Romance,” Gerard spelled out. “I’m out.”

Four jaws dropped in unison. The mug nearly fell right out of your hand.

“That means that My Chemical Romance is….over with,” Mikey realized. “I mean, there’s no way in hell that we could continue the band without you.”

This much was obvious - Gerard was the group’s leader. It’s visionary. A drummer, such as yourself? Potentially replaceable. But the vocalist, lyricist, and frontman? No way. If he was done, his departure would be a bullet between My Chemical Romance’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard sighed. “I’ve been trying, to act like everything’s fine, and keep working on new songs with you guys. But….my heart’s just not in it anymore.”

“What about the new album?!” Frank interjected. “The demos we’ve been working on so far….I thought those songs really had potential!”

“The guitar parts you wrote were good, Frankie,” Gerard admitted. “If you want to take those melodies, and recycle them into a new project, at some point? You definitely have my blessing to do that.”

“Frank might be fine forming some new band, with new people,” you said, tears forming in your eyes, “but, what about me? What am I supposed to do?”

You had dropped out of school, years ago, when Gerard asked you to drum for his band. And the truth was, that you had nothing to fall back on. You’d spent the last decade of your life, focused on nothing, but being in My Chem. Now, that career was just….gone.

“I was talking to Andy Hurley the other day,” Gerard said calmly. “He said, that when Fall Out Boy broke up, he became a touring drummer, for some other bands. Like, I think he went on the road with Earth Crisis for a while.”

“Oh, so you just have all the answers, is that it?” you snapped. You didn’t think, he’d really given that much thought, to how this would affect you, at all.

“Y/N, come on,” Ray intervened, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You have to admit….the last tour, was really hard on all of us.”

“He’s right,” Mikey sighed. “We were constantly jet lagged. I was eating No-Doz like candy, just to stay awake, during some of our shows.”

“I...I never said being in this band was easy,” you stammered, “but that doesn’t mean you just give up!”

“I can’t force it, if the passion’s just not there anymore!” Gerard insisted. “Do you remember the last show we played?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you demanded.

“I wasn’t even looking at the fucking crowd,” Gerard confessed. “Or at my mic. My head was somewhere completely else. I was looking at the sea, in the distance. I didn’t want to be on that stage. And I know that our performance suffered, because of that. It wasn’t my best work. If I can’t give the fans the show they deserve, I’d rather not do any more shows, at all.”

“You didn’t feel happy at all, when you were playing with us?” you realized.

“No,” Gerard said bluntly. “I felt nothing.”

Your chest hurt, and your eyes welled up with tears. Nothing?

Being onstage with Gerard, watching him sing, from behind your drum kit, was euphoria to you. A high that no drug could match. Listening to the crowd sing along with him, as you played your heart out....those were always the best nights of your life. But, clearly, he didn’t feel the same way, that you did.

You always thought you’d have more time with him. Whether it was in the studio, or on tour….you’d taken for granted, that you would have another opportunity, to tell him how you really felt.

You’d had feelings for him, for a long time. To put it frankly, you were in love with him.

I told myself, that as soon as we finished the record, I would confess my feelings to him, you recalled, your hands shaking. I didn’t want it to affect the work we were doing in the studio, so I was going to wait. But now the fifth MCR album, is never going to exist!

Even if your fantasies of dating him never materialized, you thought you would always have him, as a bandmate. Even if we never became boyfriend and girlfriend….we would still travel the world together, as singer and drummer. That was something I thought I could always rely on!

Now, everything you thought you’d have, was up in smoke. It was like the rug had been pulled out from under you.

“Gerard, how could you?!” you cried, unable to stop the tears, from falling from your eyes. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be in any band, if it’s not with you!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry…,” Gerard began, seeming taken aback, by how deeply, his words had wounded you.

“Save it!” you barked. “I don’t want to hear it!”

You grabbed your keys, and stormed out of the room.

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard cried.

His voice didn’t stop you. If nothing was what he felt, sharing the stage with you….then, nothing was exactly what you would be to each other, from this day on.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

FOUR YEARS LATER

You’d moved back to New Jersey, after the band broke up. Los Angeles held nothing for you anymore, but memories. All you wanted was to forget.

You’d tried to fill the void in your heart, by blowing money on vinyls. You thought maybe, if you turned the volume all the way up, and made the whole house shake with sound, you wouldn’t be able to hear Gerard’s voice, in the back of your head. I felt nothing.

Your time together had been special to you….but, clearly, you thought, it hadn’t been special to him. So, when the guy at the record store, had asked for your number, you’d given it to him.

You thought you could get over Gerard, by jumping into bed with someone else. Patrick certainly wasn’t unattractive. And, he was never unkind to you. When he told you that he loved you, you said it back.

But…..you didn’t mean it. Deep down in your heart, you knew you were still in love with Gerard. And the worst part was, Patrick knew it, too. So, the relationship failed. Of course it did.

But, it had left you with one good thing: a child. You loved your daughter, even though you didn’t love her father. Motherhood had given you a reason to get out of bed every day. Even if you felt like your life was in shambles, you still had a responsibility, to be there for her.

She looked up at you, with innocent blue eyes, as you tucked her into bed.

“Mommy need hug?” she asked, holding her teddy bear tightly.

“No, sweetheart,” you sighed, ashamed that your mental state was so obvious, even to a toddler. “Mommy’s okay.”

You thought to yourself, as you kissed her goodnight, that she might be the only person in this world, to ever truly love you unconditionally.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were sitting at the kitchen table, alone with your thoughts, and a glass of Pinot, when the phone rang. You wondered who it could be, at this hour.

“Hey, Y/N,” said a familiar voice, when you picked up.

“Frank?” you blinked. “What’s up?”

“How are you doing?” your former bandmate asked gently.

“Pretty good,” you lied. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Frank admitted. “I just got done with a tour, not too long ago.”

Right, you remembered. He’s got his own little solo project now.

“What are you calling yourselves these days?” you asked. “The Cellabration?”

“No, it’s The Patience now,” Frank corrected. “Man, I really wish I could have convinced you to join us. You know you were my first pick, for a drummer.”

“You found a better one,” you shrugged. “I bought a copy of your CD. It sounds like Matt Olsson is doing a hell of a job.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Frank chuckled. “You been up to much, music wise?”

“Nah,” you confessed. “I mean, I did a little production stuff, for an indie label, here in town. But mostly, I’ve just been living off royalties, and child support.”

“Fair enough,” Frank replied. “How’s the little one doing?”

“Lena‘s doing great,” you smiled. “She’s full of energy, like most three year olds are.”

You heard Frank laughing.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I still can’t believe,” Frank snickered, “that you named your daughter Helena.”

“Of course I did,” you said wistfully. “Of all the songs we ever composed together, I think that was my favorite.”

“Honestly, it’s one of my favorites, too,” Frank confessed.

“How are Lily and Cherry?” you asked. “And Miles?”

“The twins just had their seventh birthday,” Frank said proudly. “God, they’re getting so big. And Miles just started kindergarten, he loves it.”

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Lena and I, should come over and visit you guys soon.”

“I’d really like that,” Frank agreed. “I mean, you’re right down the road, after all.”

It was true - Frank, was the only other former band member, who had returned to New Jersey, after things went south.

“....That’s actually part of, what I wanted to talk to you about,” Frank said, after a moment.

“What do you mean?” you wondered.

“So….you and I, still hang out all the time,” Frank began.

“...Yeah?” you nodded. Where was he going with this?

“But, you also visited Ray not too long ago, right?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, last fall,” you recalled. “He invited me down to his house in California. He wanted me to play drums, for a track on Remember The Laughter.”

It had been nice to see him again - and even nicer, to get out of the East Coast snow.

“But, while you were in LA, you also hung out with Mikey, right?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “He asked me to go to a Dodgers game with him, while I was in town. It was pretty fun. He was asking me for parenting advice the whole time, because Kristin was pregnant with Rowan.”

All of the former members of My Chemical Romance were parents now….except one. But, you didn’t want to talk about him. To your chagrin, this was the exact person, whom Frank asked about next.

“What about Gerard?” he demanded.

“What about him?” you scoffed. Even after all this time, thinking about him, still hurt.

“I was texting Gee last night,” Frank explained. “Y/N….he told me that you haven’t gone and seen him, even once, since the day the band broke up.”

“It’s true,” you admitted.

“Shit, man,” Frank swore. “It’s been four years. Do you really hate him, that much?”

“I don’t hate him,” you said softly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Frank tutted. “Was it really necessary, to block his number?”

“It was,” you insisted. “I have nothing to say to him.”

“Well,” Frank revealed, “he had something, that he wanted me to say to you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What is it?!” you demanded.

“Damn,” Frank teased. “You sound pretty eager, for someone who refuses to speak to him directly. For the record, it’s kinda childish, if you ask me! You and I are both in our thirties now - and he just turned fuckin’ forty. And I still have to be a go-between, for you two?”

“Just tell me what he said, already,” you said impatiently.

“Fine, fine,” Frank sighed. “I’ll get to the point.”

“Well, what is it?” What could he possibly have to say, after all this time?

“He asked me,” Frank whispered, “if you would be interested, in getting the band back together.”

You dropped the phone in shock. It hit the tile floor, with a crash. You were lucky, that the noise didn’t wake Lena. You bit your lip. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t.

Was this real?! you thought, your hands shaking. Oh, god, please let it be real.

You’d wanted to hear those words for so long. Despite all your anger and resentment towards Gerard….you wanted him, to miss you. You wanted him, to want to get onstage with you again. Because deep down….you still wanted, that, too.

You picked the phone up off the floor, and pressed it to your ear again.

“Damn, Y/N, what was that?” Frank gaped.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I can hear you now. So….tell me again? Exactly what he said?”

“He said he wants to get all five of us in a room together,” Frank explained. “Just...try and jam for a little bit, and see where it goes from there.”

“Where?” you asked. “LA, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah….”

“Ok, when?” you interrupted. “I can try and find a sitter, to watch Lena for a weekend, so….”

“Slow down!” Frank urged. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

“What do you mean, what the fuck?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“You just told me, you haven’t said two words to Gerard, since 2013!” Frank reminded. “Now, all of a sudden, you’re chomping at the bit, to get on a plane, and go see him?”

He had a point. You hated yourself for this. You’d spent the last four years, trying desperately to forget about Gerard. Now, as soon as he dangled the possibility of a reunion in front of you, you were wagging your tail like a dog for him.

He still has me in the palm of your hand, you realized, cheeks burning. I hate it.

“We weren’t sure,” Frank confessed, “if you would want to be part of the reunion at all. You guys didn’t leave things on the best of terms. Like...when you see him again, what the hell are you gonna say to him?”

“I….I don’t know,” you realized. You thought about it for a moment.

“One thing’s for sure,” you decided. “If My Chemical Romance is having a reunion, you’re sure as hell, not gonna have it without me.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You hesitated in the studio doorway, your hand shaking on the door handle.

Come on, you told yourself. You’ve come all this way. The flight from La Guardia to LAX was seven hours long. You had all that time, to talk yourself out of doing this. But, you’re here now. You’ve decided this is what you want.

Steeling yourself, you turned the knob, and entered the room.

He was there, as soon as you walked in. His hair was a natural brown now - not the short blonde it had been, the last time you’d seen him. It had become streaked with grey - but, then again, so had yours. Despite the lines of middle age, that had now begun to crease his face, he was still so, breathtakingly handsome.

“Hey, Y/N,” Gerard said, his voice melting you like butter. “You look great.”

You didn’t say so do you - even though it was true.

“H-how you have been?” you asked, trying to hide your shakes.

“I’ve been well,” Gerard smiled. “How’s Patrick?”

“We’re divorced,” you said dryly.

“....Oh,” Gerard gasped. “Oh, fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You would, if you shot me an email, once in a while,” you snapped, remembering that you were supposed to ‘hate’ him.

“Oh, so my number’s blocked, but an email’s fine with you?” Gerard huffed. “How am I supposed to know that? The telephone works both ways, you know.”

“Guys!” interrupted the voice of the reason. “Can you not? Please?”

“Ray!” you gasped, turning to face your frizzy-haired friend. “How are you? It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Y/N,” Ray smiled. “I missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” said another familiar voice, as Mikey entered the room.

“Hey!” you smiled, walking over to greet him. “How’s the baby doing?”

“She’s beautiful,” Mikey said proudly. “How’s Helena?”

“Little Lena is getting bigger every day,” you smiled. “She’s adorable.”

“You can compare baby pictures later,” joked another voice. “I’d win that contest, anyway. I have three cuties at home.”

“Hi, Frank!” Mikey grinned. “How have you been, dude?”

“Pretty good,” Frank smiled, setting down his guitar case. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”

You looked around the room, scarcely believing it was true. But, you didn’t have to pinch yourself. It was real- all five members of My Chemical Romance, were together again.

“Are you ready to jam?” Ray grinned.

“Absolutely,” you said, surprising yourself.

“What should we play first?” Frank asked, taking his guitar out of its case, and hooking the strap over his shoulder.

“Good question,” Gerard shrugged, walking over to the microphone stand, and adjusting it to his height.

“What about ‘Helena’?” Mikey suggested, tuning his bass.

“Sounds good to me,” you replied. You sat down, behind the drum kit, that the studio space owned. You still had your original kit - with the Danger Days “Exterminate” drum cover - in your basement, back home.

You picked up your sticks. It had been so long, but holding them in your hands, felt so right, in a way that you couldn’t describe.

“Ray, you wanna start us off?” Gerard asked.

“Alright,” Ray nodded. “One, two, three, four…”

He began to play the opening notes, that you knew so well.

“Long ago,” Gerard crooned, “just like the hearse you, died to get in again…”

Your cymbals joined him - and at just the right time, too. Like muscle memory coming back.

“We are,” Gerard sang, “so far from you!”

Mikey and Frank’s parts kicked in, and you felt a wave of adrenaline, that hit you so fast, it almost made you miss the beat.��

“Burning on…,” Gerard continued, surprisingly in-key.

“Just like a match you strike to incineraaaaate!” Ray harmonized, “the lives of everyone you knoooow!”

The two men sounded incredible together, given that the last time they’d performed this song, was 2012. It was like riding a bike, you realized. You guys had played this one together, so many times, that it only took being next to each other, to unlock it all again.

You felt a wave of nostalgia, as the song continued:

And what's the worst you take (worst you take)

From every heart you break (heart you break)

And like the blade you stain (blade you stain)

Well, I've been holding on tonight

What's the worst that I can say?

Things are better if I stay

So long and goodnight

So long not goodnight

“....Fuck, that sounded so good!” Gerard grinned, stopping after the chorus. “I thought we’d be really rusty!”

“I know, right?” Ray laughed.

Suddenly, Gerard’s smile faded, as he turned back, and looked at you. “....Y/N?”

“What?” you asked. “I agree, that was decent.”

“Y/N….you’re crying,” Gerard said softly.

“Huh?” you blinked. You set your drumstick down, and touched your finger to your eye. It came away wet.

Fuck, you realized, he’s right. You hadn’t even noticed. Despite the sharp words you’d exchanged, when you walked in the door, playing together, had made your true feelings plain. You had missed this. You had missed this so much.

“I….I think I need a smoke break,” you stammered, and headed for the door.

“Y/N! Wait!” Gerard called. It sounded just like deja vu.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

He found you outside, holding a cigarette in your shaking palm. You could barely see the lighter through your tears. The stupid flame wouldn’t catch.

“You want me to get that?” Gerard offered.

“No!” you sniffed. “Just, go away!”

Ignoring you, Gerard took the lighter from your hand.

“Here,” he said, and lit the cigarette for you. You took a drag.

“....You want one?” you offered, awkwardly handing him the pack, as you wiped your eyes.

“Nah,” Gerard shook his head. “I quit.”

“...Did you really?” you blinked, surprised.

“Yeah, just this year,” Gerard nodded. “I figured, if we were gonna do this, I wanted to make sure, that my lungs were in good shape.”

“....How long have you known, that you wanted to come back?” you wondered.

“Not long,” Gerard confessed. “Honestly, I thought you would say no.”

“To you?” you laughed, bitterly. “Never.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “I thought you can’t stand me, these days.”

“Gee,” you sighed. “Listen….I never hated you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“It wasn’t hate, that kept me away,” you confessed. “It was love.”

“Love?” Gerard repeated, confused.

“You broke my heart,” you explained, “when you killed the band.”

“Yeah, all the guys were heartbroken, when I told them it was over,” Gerard acknowledged.

“No,” you shook your head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then, explain it to me!” Gerard demanded. “Nobody was happy with me with that day, but you’re the only one who cut off all contact afterwards! And I have spent every day, of the last four years, wondering why!”

“Because I was in love with you, you idiot!” you cried.

Gerard gasped, staring at you in shock.

Fuck, you trembled. I can’t believe I said that out loud.

“You….wanted to be with me?” Gerard asked, eyes wide.

“Of course I did,” you said, beginning to cry again. “But, you didn’t even want me as a bandmate anymore - let alone a lover. You didn’t feel a thing - you gave up our life’s work, like it was nothing to you.”

“Y/N, I was relapsing,” Gerard said softly, staring at his shoes.

“You….you what?”

“During the World Contamination Tour,” Gerard admitted, shame-faced. “The stress of being on the road, it was just too much for me. I was seven years sober, and I fell off the wagon. I hated myself for it. But I knew, if we started another album cycle, and went on another tour, after that….I was going to do it again.”

“That’s why you wanted to quit the band?” you realized. “I never knew….”

“You never let me explain myself!” Gerard reminded. “You just took off!”

“B-but, I never noticed you drinking, when we were on tour….” you stammered.

“I hid it well,” Gerard sighed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You thought I was such a great guy….I didn’t want you to see the truth about me.”

“You are a great guy, Gee,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t gotten so angry at you, for making the choice you made, if I had known how badly you were struggling, on the inside….”

“It was kill the band,” Gerard revealed, “or fall back into the bad habits, that were going to kill me.”

“I….I don’t want you to get killed, Gerard,” you sobbed. “I would never, ever want that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for how I’ve treated you, this whole time….”

“I’m sorry, too,” Gerard said, reaching a gentle hand up, to wipe the tear from your eye. “I’m sorry, that I was so self-absorbed, that I never realized, how you felt about me.”

“I hid that well, too,” you confessed.

“I would never have wasted the last four years of my life like this,” Gerard sighed, “if I had known, that my feelings were reciprocated.”

“Re…Reciprocated?” you repeated. No….could he mean….?

“After you went back to Jersey,” Gerard bared his soul, “I felt like there was a hole in my heart. And I didn’t know why. By the time I figured it out - by the time I was sober, and mentally stable again, and the type of man you actually deserved - goddamnit, Y/N, you were married to someone else!”

“I only accepted Patrick’s proposal, because I was pregnant,” you admitted, embarrassed. “And I only slept with him, in the first place, to try and convince myself, that I was capable of wanting, somebody who wasn’t you.”

“But….you and Patrick split up,” Gerard realized. “Fuck. Y/N. If I had known, that you two weren’t still together….I would have been on a plane to New Jersey, months ago, begging you for another chance.”

“I don’t want him,” you cried. “I want you, Gerard. I always did. I wished Lena was yours, because the wanting never stopped. I want you still!”

“Then, be mine, damnit!” Gerard cried, and took you in his arms. He kissed your tear stained face, and your sobbing finally stopped, as his lips crashed into yours.

He tasted so sweet….everything you’d wanted, and more. It was like a dream come true.

“The guys are waiting inside,” you reminded, “for us to go back in there, and play some more songs with them.”

“Let then wait,” Gerard shushed you, pulling you in again. “I’ve waited four years for this.”

He kissed you, and you felt as if you could fly. All was, finally, right with the world again.

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #band member reader #gothtober #damn I actually really like how this one turned out #I was listening to Forget Me Too by MGK while I was writing it #idk the vibes are the same

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 3 years

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Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

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Planet of the Dead Return to the Stars as ‘Pilgrims’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Jonathan Guzi

Every other day there's a story that calls our eyes heavenward to wonder about new planets discovered in nearby solar systems, terraforming Mars, or exploring the smallest elements in the universe. Anywhere has to be better than here, any time better than here right now. At least that's what a lot of people are feeling. How about the power of music to elevate us into vast dimensions of the imagination. One band out of New Zealand is interested in finding out what limits one can breach when the driving power of doom rock is hotwired with adventurous sci-fi/fantasy storytelling.

I speak, of course, of Wellington quartet PLANET OF THE DEAD Last year, Mark Mundell (vox), Malcolm McKenzie (guitar), Kees Hengst (bass), and Josh Hussey (drums) brought us the impressive first introduction to their soundscape and narrative concept, which elicited no small amount of praise for 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), including the enthusiastic Bandcamper who gushed, "Some of the best jams I've heard in this universe!" Listen to fan favorites "The Eternal Void" or "Mind Killer" and you'll discover why there's excitement around this band's future.

But Planet of the Dead wasn't done yet. As many of us have already experienced, unexpected and elongated times of forced aloneness do crazy things to the creative mind. For one, it frustrates, as you cannot express the present songs you feel so strongly about to live crowds filled with spontaneous drifters. The moods usually shift out of sheer exasperated boredom, leading to the insatiable urge to begin tinkering again. 'Pilgrim' (2021) comes at us like an explosion with stories to tell and songs to wail. It's purpose-driven interdimensional doom we're talking about here. This may have been the impetus behind the second album’s creation, so closely after the birth of their first (incidentally, both records feature exactly eight songs a piece).

"Gom Jabbar" is the first creature we chance upon in this otherworldly dimension. He speaks with synth-enhanced vocals (ever so slightly) that's practically like an alien encounter if you listen to it high (gosh, sorry. I've gotta stop leaking album reviewer secrets like that). A defiant second voice joins the dialogue, sounding for all the world like Goliath, Hercules, or Hulkian figure.

"Pilgrim" stirs up grey and purple auras as this groovy sandcrawler glides across dunes and high above deserts, searching for the most fitting place to (re)build the world they once knew, perhaps even dare to dream beyond it. I'm assuming they're a scientific voyage on the run from a restrictive government in a week's long mini series I should have pitched to NBC 20 years ago for big bucks. The song allows your imagination drift on its own recognisance, before the closing words call us back to the shadows.

A dire feeling blankets the air throughout "Nostromo," a stomping little number that's straight-up doom rock, with a cool streetwalking kind of stride. It's impossible to not to think of previous adventures aboard vessels christened Nostromo, but each are mysterious encounters with the unknown, some of which yield new insights into our humanity by taking us back through some strange luck of heavy metal time travel to experience pivotal moments in astral history.

"The Sprawl" may be one of the most dismal legs of this journey, but in an exotic acid-soaked kind of way that makes you question your reality (and your own sanity) before the trip is done. The song is good about building various layers of joy and tension, then meshing them together for some distorted, fuzzy, electric, sparkin' Frankensteinian experience. Where will the spiral take us next? Confident lead gets a riff-enhanced jolt, staging march-like-groove that eventually turns meditative, psychedelic, and ethereal. And that's just the first side of the record! Go ahead, flip it over. You can't stop this far-invested in the trip. Shhh. Listen. Grungy, rumbling energy, extraterrestrial harmonics, and gnarly acid-touched solos are just ahead.

"Escape from Smith's Grove" jars the senses with the unexpected tonal shift from clarinets into a seismic pattern of eruptions that match our stomping feet. This is, after all, a jailbreak of sorts.

"Directive IV" takes the perspective of an enforcement officer who is just doing his job. Mark Mundell's vocal stylings are on-point. For me they compare to the pipes of the late-great Wayne Static, the spastic, growling frontman of Static X. Others may see more similarity with the "common man" grit of Scott Angelacos from Hollow Leg and Junior Bruce. Or even Kirk Windstein's apocalyptic spitfire with Crowbar.

The song appears to be a struggle of conscience between compassion and machine-like order, a tug-of-war that after several epic call and response segments in which our protagonist is put on trial by his peers. The tight grip of fascistic space goons gradually loosens their grip in the song's final minutes, as a street-worn riff storm carries our rebels far away from the grasp of whatever the fucks. That means our (now treasonous) soldier has a second chance at life in the (are you ready for this?) the unknown wilds of...

..."The Cursed Earth." This is a perfect song for that moment in a show when the alcohol or "legal tobacco" has sufficiently unlocked your third eye with stellar riffs and choruses (this song has several "ah-ha" moments). The vocals are obscured here and are sometimes backed up by other singers to emphasize a specific point in the lyrical narrative. The final moments again are slowed down with impactful tonal moments that make you think you're on the edge spying some strange meeting of warrior souls.

Things are not what they seem They never are

"The Great Wave" pulls you right into its hypnotic sway, interjected with extraterrestrial strains of thought communicated as if by a very blasted HAL 9000, our onboard computer. It's downright creepy when it hits you. Then again, maybe that's what we want from an intrepid album such as Pilgrim, to rope us into a fascinating narrative and invite us to return to sort out the details, several spins down the road. Now that I think of it, maybe these songs are all references pinned to great Alien, Robocop, and Judge Dredd moments? Listen closely to "Nostromo" and "Directive IV" and wonder. A good album should do that to a person, draw you into its storytelling and musical colour. It has me listening to it immediately from beginning to end, then end to beginning. If you wanna give it a shot, Planet of the Dead's monsterpiece will definitely reward your back-to-back listens.

Look for Pilgrims to come to life on July 23rd, with a fantastic spread of options on vinyl and CD (pre-order here). In the meanwhile, Planet of the Dead are letting us join the party leading up to the big drop right here at Doomed & Stoned HQ, where you can hear each track in full. Don't miss crucial insight from the band itself in 'Some Buzz' to follow. Then join in sharing your thoughts and theories (stoned or otherwise) on this transcendental New Zealand metal album in the comments below!

Give ear...

LISTEN: Planet of the Dead - Pilgrim

SOME BUZZ

Just little over a year following the release of their auspicious debut album, 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), which attained more than 35,000 views on YouTube, New Zealand cosmic stoner and doom four-piece band Planet of the Dead are back with a new full-length album titled 'Pilgrims' (2021).

Hurtling towards the forever yawning void within their busted-up space freighter, they draw inspiration from classic science fiction and horror, and push supermassive and megalithic riffs to the outer limits.

"Our second album came together around the titular track 'Pilgrim', which is based on the book 'Slaughterhouse 5' by Kurt Vonnegut. Musically, it plays upon the themes of moments trapped in the amber." So says the band about this new album.

"Our basic concept is heavy music played heavy, and we try to keep it simple. There are recurrent themes in our riffs which gives the album a sense of coherence, but we've experimented with some new sounds in the latest album which we feel results in a greater sense of dynamism.

"Lyrically, we dug deeper into our obsessions with classic sci-fi and horror. There is a distinctive and undeniable fan-fiction element to our work. We actively seek out cultural references, and weave them into our tapestries. Ultimately, we do everything we do for the great god Dyzan, for his greater glory...and for our mutual pleasure.”

Set for release on July 23rd, 'Pilgrims' will surely cement Planet of the Dead’s reputation as serious riff merchants.

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#D&S Debuts #Planet of the Dead #Wellington #New Zealand #doom metal #stoner rock #fuzz #sludge #metal #D&S Reviews #sci-fi #Doomed and Stoned

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Jennifer Kelly 2020: I’m done expecting next year to be better

Not to belabor the point, which has been covered everywhere, but 2020 sucked. My last live concert was on March 7th. It was 75 Dollar Bill in a beautiful reconfigured industrial space on the Amherst College campus, and I already had questions about whether I should be there or not. The show was worth it, absolutely riveting, and no one I know got sick from it, but a couple of weeks later, Amherst College shut down and then, basically, the world.

When I think about 2020, I think about bands that don’t fully make sense unless you see them live, and how, this year, no one got to see them live. I think about musicians who were barely making it before, now cut off from concert revenues and, in a lot of cases, day jobs at restaurants, coffee shops and bars. I think about six-digit medical bills from multi-week COVID-19 treatments, and how my insurance will only cut that to low five figures. I think about the constant spew of bile and nonsense, the willful destruction of American institutions and the persistent sense that we will never recover from any of this, and I look for refuge.

Most of the time in music. Because the music kept coming even when everything else shut down. Even the artists who were holding back for better conditions ended up releasing EVERY ALBUM ON EARTH starting about September 18th. There was always music, good music, interesting music, beautiful music, and while that doesn’t compensate for a terrible year, it was something.

Here are 10 albums I loved best from 2020, with links to reviews or other articles I’ve written about them.

1. Gunn-Truscinski — Soundkeeper (Three Lobed)

Soundkeeper by Gunn-Truscinski Duo

A gorgeous exploration of mood and tone, this double CD set includes two extended live cuts and ten more recorded just down the road in Easthampton, Massachusetts. (And I thought nothing ever happened up here.) “Pyramid Merchandise” punches the hardest, John Truscinski balancing rock solid beat keeping with abstracted sculptures of percussive experiment, while Gunn finds the sweetness and the growl in his blues-touched guitar sound. But “Ocean City” is pure lovely respite, with big rounded notes dropping slowly and with grace through wavering transparencies of sustained tone. Long, searching, “Soundkeeper” will rekindle your longing for live improvised music, while the closer “For Eddie Hazel” vibrates with supercharged intensity, the notes and the steady rhythm too bright and beautiful to look at straight on.

2. Six Organs of Admittance — Companion Rises (Drag City)

Companion Rises by Six Organs of Admittance

Chasny imbues the down-home with wonder and the inexplicable with natural grace in this album inspired by stargazing. The album’s name references the way Sirius appears close to Orion, and the rollicking “The Scout Is Here,” commemorates the appearance of the Oumuamua asteroid, but this is no squiggle-y space opera. The music is mainly made of clean, all-natural picking, blues bends, and rambling jangle, though ruptured, periodically, by rushing, whooshing, amplified electronic sounds. Warm, simple clarity is tipped with awe in finger-picked “Black Tea,” while mists and mysteries predominate in evanescent “Worn Down to the Light,” but the joy comes in the balance between the ordinary and the unknowable shimmering like stars in a black sky.

3. Gil Scott-Heron and Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL Recordings)

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When the estate of Gil Scott-Heron asked Chicago composer, percussionist and hip hop chopper Makaya McCraven to reimagine the artist’s last, most personal album, McCraven jumped at the chance to tackle its themes of black struggle, black family and perseverance. McCraven surrounded Scott-Heron’s words with shimmering, post-jazz arrangements that incorporated some of his father’s recordings (his dad is jazz drummer Stephen McCraven) in an ongoing tribute to the blood relatives who shape and equip young black men for a challenging world. The music is wonderful, very different from the original, spare, blues-based arrangements, but they open out the master’s words in an illuminating way. I like, especially, the hustling, shuffling movement of “New York Is Killing Me,” which summons the city’s energy as clearly as the feel of heat rising out of a subway grate in August.

4. Obnox — Savage Raygun (Ever/Never)

Savage Raygun by Obnox

Obnox’s psychedelic mayhem roars like a California wildfire, setting a torch to rock, soul, hip hop, jazz and punk with fuzz-crusted abandon. Icons like Hawkwind flare out and curl into white-hot ash, while even Neil Young’s lick from “Southern Man,” is consumed in the all-encompassing heat of Lamont Thomas’ onslaught (“Young Neezy”). A double album, Savage Raygun covers a lot of ground, but in such a kinetic rush that it seems like one entity that stretched from end to end.

5. Anjimile — Giver Taker (Father/Daughter)

Giver Taker by Anjimile

Anjimile sounds beautifully comfortable with their new vocal range in this second full-length, which follows a gender transition. Pitched low and warm, their voice effortlessly navigates subtle melodies, integrating complex, African-leaning rhythms into songs about love, identify, family friction and the possibility of redemption through embracing one’s authentic self.

6. Osees — Protean Threat (Castleface)

Protean Threat by Oh Sees

John Dwyer has fronted bands called The O.Cs., The Ohsees, Thee Ohsees and now just Osees, evolving from a one-man bedroom pop outfit to a gleefully slopping garage pop project to a droning, krautrocking motoric monster along the way. This newest iteration takes a little of this, a little of that, from the repertoire, putting Dwyer’s best Bo Diddley-esque stomper in years (“If I Had My Way”) next to a wiggy psychedelic freak bomb called “Toadstool” which is adjacent to the dub-scented, narcotic head trip called “Gong of Catastrophe.” The mix works because Dwyer and his band commit to all of it, sequentially and within tracks. It’s the best Osees in years, all the good things in one package.

7. Sam Amidon — S-T (Nonesuch)

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As always, Amidon starts with traditional, mostly folk and blues material and, as always, he transforms it into something more adventurous, spiritual and faintly otherworldly. With Shahzad Ismaily and Antibalas’ Chris Vatalaro to back him up, he breaks down the unyielding contours of pre-modern banjo tunes and porch blues, finding steady drones and complex afro-beat syncopations in their steady melodies. You can hear “Cuckoo Bird” a million times in a million different voices and never hear it as luminous and open-ended as here.

8. James Elkington — Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)

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James Elkington is always pressed for time, maybe because he works regularly for so many other people’s bands (Richard Thompson, Jeff Tweedy, Spencer Tweedy) and collaborates with others (Steve Gunn). And yet his second solo album brims with balm and solace; he finds time in the interstices between warm, jazz-scented, Pentangle-esque verses and intricate flurries of picked and strummed and electric guitar. Even “Nowhere Time,” which exhorts “It is time for you to move,” has an ease and calm to it, while “Moon Tempering” is as still and lovely as winter starlight. Ever-Roving Eye is an album that assures us we’ll get it all done somehow, but just stop for a minute and listen.

9. Jehnny Beth — To Love Is To Live (Arts & Crafts)

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This riveting solo debut from the Savages frontperson is both quieter and more intense than her full-band compositions, juxtaposing incendiary spoken word with the hedonistic thump of the dance floor. Guests are varied—Joe Talbot of IDLES at one pole, the actor Cillian Murphy at the other—but the music never drifts from Jehnny Beth’s singular viewpoint. Compare her to PJ Harvey or Beth Gibbons or Bobby Gillespie as you will (I did), but this is her 100%, and there’s nothing else like it.

10. Cable Ties — Far Enough (Merge)

Far Enough by Cable Ties

Australia churns out quality punk bands like the Hershey factory makes kisses, and Cable Ties, formed in Melbourne by four young rebels, ranks as one of the best to surface here in America this year. “Tell Them Where to Go” is the money track here, all rust-crusted bass crunch and ragged estrogenated vocal energy. But let’s not put them in the “girl band” ghetto. As I said in my review, “The easy thing would be to compare McKechnie’s vibrato-zinging vocals with those of Sleater-Kinney’s Corin Tucker or her verbal agility to Courtney Barnett, but the blunt force and agile violence of the music, brings to mind post-punk bands like the Wipers, Protomartyr and Eddy Current.”

Honorable mention

I also really enjoyed these albums in 2020.

Lewsberg — In this House (12XU)

Damien Jurado — What’s New Tomboy (Mamabird)

Bill Callahan — Gold Record (Drag City)

Mike Polizze — Long Lost Solace Find (Paradise of Bachelors)

Destroyer — Have We Met (Merge)

Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)

Thurston Moore — By the Fire (Daydream Library)

Tobin Sprout — Empty Horse (Fire)

FACS — Void Moments (Trouble in Mind)

Elkhorn — The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)

Howling Hex — Knuckleball Express (Fat Possum)

Wendy Eisenberg — Auto (BaDaBing)

Xetas — The Cypher (12XU)

Califone — Echo Mine (Jealous Butcher)

Chouk Bwa & The Ångströmers — Vodou Alé (Bongo Joe)

Shopping — All or Nothing (Fat Cat)

Bonny Light Horseman — S-T (37d03d)

Tashi Dorji — Stateless (Drag City)

The Slugs — Don’t Touch Me I’m Too Slimy (2214099 Records DK)

Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — S-T (Dagonetti)

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ohimtherebabey · 4 years

Note

! all of the numbers of questions

first of all, i respect you so much. thank you. second of all, i have already answered 1, 5, 7, 11, 13, and 27 so i’m going to skip those here.

2. Favourite band? my chemical fucking romance!!!!

3. Any New Year's resolutions? ive been really trying to be like. outwardly emo and not be embarrassed by it. also, to go to more shows! which ive already achieved and its only march!

4. Favourite music video? helena or desolation row. king for a day is a contender.

6. Panic! At The Disco or Fall Out Boy? thats difficult. i would say fall out boy but they’re really close

8. Do you own a pair of fingerless gloves or skeleton gloves (or the combination)? no :(((( but i want some

9. Do you own any band merch? If so, from what bands? oh yea. ive got a metric fuckton of mcr merch. also concert shirts from panic! at the disco, bastille, the killers, and poppy

10. Got a jacket with pins? yes!!!

12. Any hair dying or haircut plans for 2020? i’m shaving my head tomorrow!!!

14. Killjoy name? i dont have one. i don’t really like danger days and the whole universe kind of intimidates me

15. Are you into The Used? yes!!! bert mccracken has done more for me than the armed forces

16. Do you want any tattoos? Of what? YES!!!!! i have a lot of mcr designs (as of right now, i’ve got designs for our lady of sorrows, vampires will never hurt you, bullets in general, helena, mama, early sunsets, and welcome to the black parade). also i want a haunted house and some bats and a really stupid t-bone steak that says “tell your boyfriend” to commemorate DONTTRUSTME by 3OH!3

17. Can you play any instruments? Which? yes! but none of them are instruments that i want to play. i have 15 years of classical piano training and 6 years of saxophone from high school band/marching band

18. Favourite My Chemical Romance song? demolition lovers

19. Do you think Twenty One Pilots are emo? i dont think im educated enough to pass judgement. i dont listen to twenty one pilots and i havent heard a song of theirs in honestly 5 years. just from first impression, i would say theyre more generic alternative than specifically emo.

20. Are you into Taking Back Sunday? not really. i’ll listen if its on, but i won’t seek them out

21. Do you wear any make up? only the shittiest smudged eyeliner in the world

22. Do you have black painted nails? yes! i just painted them 2 hours ago (im not allowed to have painted nails at work but im on spring break this week so theres no work)

23. Have you got any band posters? Of what bands? i have a few mcr posters, a panic! at the disco poster, a fall out boy poster, and a pierce the veil poster

24. Do you want any piercings? yes!!!!!! i already have my septum and several ear piercings, but i want at least one lip piercing, a nostril piercing, more ear piercings, maybe an eyebrow, my nipples. i want to stretch my lobes, too.

25. What's your opinion on All Time Low? Sleeping With Sirens? Pierce The Veil? i FUCK with pierce the veil. my second favorite band of all time (im listening to a flair for the dramatic as i answer these questions). i dont like sleeping with sirens but i thank kellen quinn for his services on king for a day. i fuck with all time low (predictably my favorite atl song is a love like war because vic features)

26. Do you think it's just a phase or that you'll be emo/punk\scene forever? i take being emo too seriously for it not to be permanent.

28. Are you into Black Veil Brides? not really, but i respect the fuck out of knives and pens

29. Do you like any newer emo/scene/punk bands? Which? i love love love destroy boys. also: currents.

30. What's your favourite music genre besides emo/punk\scene? either like. folksy alternative (hozier, florence + the machine) or old school country (johnny cash, dolly parton, marty robbins)

31. Are you into Mindless Self Indulgence? not really

32. Favourite Fall Out Boy song? golden

33. Are you mostly into the so-called "emo trinity" or "emo quartet" or do you listen to a lot of other bands too? most of my listening history is my chem + bands outside of the emo trinity/quartet. i dont really make a habit of listening to panic or fob, and never twenty one pilots. mostly its pierce the veil and bring me the horizon. a lot of evanescence, too.

34. What's your opinion on Waterparks? Palaye Royale? I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME? i only know one song by waterparks, so i dont really have an opinion on their music, but awsten annoys me so much. ive dont know anything by palaye royale, so i cant pass judgement. idkhow is pretty good. i dont know too much by them but i liked what i did know. i think dallon did a great job at bringing back the weird stuff that made panic! so good

35. Are you into Bring Me The Horizon? YES. ive been nonstop listening to count your blessings for two weeks now.

36. Favourite solo project by a emo/scene\punk band member? i love all of frank’s solo projects (i go apeshit for leathermouth and death spells in particular). i love hesitant alien. also i’m really digging hayley william’s solo stuff so far

37. Are any of your friends IRL emo/scene\punk? no. and it makes me sad.

38. Are you into drawing? If so, show some of your art! only kind of and none of it is good. this is something i did based on a fragment of sappho last summer.

and here’s a quick thing i did for its not a fashion statement, it’s a deathwish

39. Favourite colours and colour schemes? im too much of a revenge fucker to not say black/gray/dark red

40. What are some of your favourite lyrics? a LOT of them are from selfish machines, just a warning. “i’m wanna hold your hand so tight, im gonna break my wrist” “i’d steal you flowers from the cemetery” “there’s no room in this hell, there’s no room in the next” “another knife in my hands, another stain that wont come off the sheets, clean me off, im so dirty babe” “decapitate her and bring her head to athena, unlike her sisters she aint no deathless God” “holding on to cold hands and sunken eyes hasnt held the same charm as it once did”

41. The Black Parade or Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge? this is such a difficult question for me. the demo lovers are everything to me, but, as i have said in the past: the black parade is the best album ever written. that doesnt mean its my chemical romance’s best album though. i’m going to say three cheers (that answer will change a thousand times).

42. What's your opinion on Paramore? Green Day? Blink-182? LOVE paramore. the riot! cd is a permanent fixture in my car. i fuck with older green day. like american idiot and dookie green day. i dont really care for blink-182

thank you again for the questions

#answered #sav speaks #my art #long post

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years

Text

careening (bruce/paul, pg-13)

"There’s no—casting couch for a bunch of has-beens. No magic bullet. You can push and promote however you wanna, but if they don’t play it, it doesn’t fucking matter.” Struggling with Gene's indifference towards the band, Paul takes Bruce out to dinner after a recording session.

Notes: For @lillianastras who I believe requested Bruce/Paul a long, long time ago. My only wish is that it was cuter.

“careening”

by Ruriruri

we measure our gains out in luck and coincidence lanterns to turn back the night and put our defeats down to chance or experience and try once again for the light –al stewart, “a man for all seasons”

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?”

Bruce looked at Eric, who shook his head dully, but didn’t say a word. As soon as Paul’s back was turned, he ran his finger in front of his neck. Bruce nodded.

“We can’t just cancel for today. We paid for the studio space already. We—I don’t fucking care, Gene. I don’t. No. You’re not—you’re not listening to me.” An exhale. Paul had the phone cord wrapped around his fist, was pacing back and forth. “The hell does that matter? You still think you’re gonna be some big star?”

Bruce had thought things were improving between them. That long break after the last tour should’ve done them some good. He’d mentioned it to Eric a few months back, after a shoot. Eric, weirdly cynical, had just shrugged.

“Gene wants to get a finger in a bunch of pies at once.” He’d looked off somewhere, past Bruce and past the room itself, not really wistful, and not really condemning, and took a swig of water. “Paul doesn’t like taking chances. Which is kinda funny, I mean, music’s such a… such a big risk in the first place. But I guess it’s the only chance he ever took.”

“What about you?” Bruce had asked, and Eric had laughed, a little.

“Well, my chance didn’t get me there half as fast, but maybe I’m better off for it.” He’d paused, pulling something out of his hair. A rhinestone that must’ve fallen off his outfit during the photoshoot earlier. He squinted at it, then he flicked it to the floor. “I don’t want anything bigger than I have. The fame bit, the glamor bit… it’s crap, Bruce, you know it, I know it—but they—they don’t know it. And they’re not gonna ever figure it out.”

It was a hell of a thing to say while drinking a bottle of Evian. It was also a hell of thing to tell a guy who’d known both of them, in the periphery, before KISS was even a band. But Bruce knew Eric was sincere. He couldn’t help himself. That it-factor, star power, whatever, that could spin pretense into reality for two hours at a time—it wasn’t in Eric any more than it was in Bruce. And that was fine, that was fine, except that it meant they never had any leverage. It forced them both into hours spent sitting through Paul and Gene’s arguments, paid to spectate, paid to shut up and do their jobs. Like right now. Paul was in particularly bitter form this afternoon, Queens accent getting stronger with every sentence. Bruce could picture Gene on the other line, unemotional at first, all-business, gradually devolving into defensive protests as Paul kept on.

“Oh, don’t start. Don’t start. I don’t wanna hear it. Personal? No, it’s not personal, it’s just my fucking livelihood and our fucking band—why the hell would I be upset? Yeah. Yeah, why the hell not. You didn’t even write the shit you mailed in—” and Paul cut himself off. Bruce could feel his gaze on him. It made him stop—despite Eric shaking his head earlier, he’d been trying to leave the room.

Something in Paul’s gaze seemed like it faltered. Maybe some residual piece of shame. He took the phone from his ear, cupping the receiver in his palm.

“I’m almost done, Bruce. Don’t leave yet.” And then, quieter still, without raising the receiver to listen in again, he hung up. Not with the slam Bruce had heard at least five times just during their time in this studio. Just set it down almost timidly, as if it were a piece of crystal instead of plastic. As if he were giving up. It was another few tense seconds before he spoke again. “Three-fourths of the band, that’s seventy-five percent. That’s still a passing grade, right?”

Eric nodded. Bruce repeated the gesture, added a quick “yeah” that didn’t seem to bolster Paul any. Paul still managed a faint twitch of a smile.

“C’mon.”

It wasn’t much of a recording session. Paul messed around on the guitar a bit, going back and forth on some lyrics. Eric was too enthusiastic on the drum fills, trying to make up for the tension in the studio, still heavy as L.A. smog in the air. It seemed like it just pissed off Paul further, but for once, he kept all snippy comments to himself.

Bruce just played when he was told, the chords as easy and rote as folding clothes. He knew Paul was looking for that sound—that one melody to bring it all back. That confidence behind a sure-fire hit. Bruce didn’t know what that feeling was like, but it must have been something else, or Paul wouldn’t still be chasing it ten years later. Gold record sales and MTV video rotations didn’t matter like Billboard bullets. Proof of success wasn’t in the tape deck—just in sold-out stadiums and constant radio play.

And Bruce couldn’t kid himself, really. There was no way this album would even get a top-40 single, no matter the press or the songs or the guitar work. No amount of effort could court a burnt-out audience. The old KISS Army had long since devolved into a bunch of twenty-somethings more interested in the stock market than heavy metal. Gene understood that. Paul didn’t.

Paul cut the session about half an hour short. Eric ducked out quickly, just a fluffy mess of curls rushing out the door, and after awhile, Bruce found himself nearly alone in the studio, with just Paul standing there, watching him pack up his guitar. Bruce raised his head, expecting a goodbye and getting a question, sudden and a little edgy, instead.

“How long’ve you been in KISS now?”

He didn’t have to think about it.

“Three years.”

“Three years? Three years and I haven’t ever taken you out to dinner. Jesus. Well. We’ll fix that.” Paul got up, putting his own guitar, one of them, back in its case. “I haven’t had a bite all day. What do you like, Bruce?”

“I’m not picky.”

“Then I’ll be picky. There’s a sushi place a couple miles from here. I’ll drive us over.”

And that was it. Ten minutes later, he was in the passenger’s seat of Paul’s car. Paul fidgeted, stuck in a CD (“the damn things skip as bad as a record, I should’ve got the tape player”). For all his interview claims of not listening to other bands, Bruce knew better. He had Slippery When Wet in there, was tapping his fingers against the wheel to the beat. Always on the lookout for a hook to riff off of, or a turn of phrase to peel away. Something dirty and distinctive. Emulating the other bands wasn’t getting them any airplay, but God, were they all trying.

“They say Mick Jagger’s putting out another solo album this year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paul nodded, turning up the volume. He was always doing that. When Bruce had first joined KISS, Gene had pulled him to the side one day, told him, quietly, that Paul needed to stand or sit beside him during interviews and T.V. appearances. Bruce had thought that was the oddest bit of micromanaging he’d ever heard of, telling him where to stand, or where not to stand. It had taken him awhile—probably half that tour—to really figure out why. Paul’s hearing wasn’t great, and it made his nerves worse. Particularly when there was more than one interviewer, more than one voice he had to focus on. He depended on Gene’s oddly gentle conspiracy, Gene’s automatic willingness to stand next to him and repeat any question for him, to even get out there, as if Bruce or Eric couldn’t have done the same.

“If it does well enough, he might cut out.” Paul said it almost like a dare. Still on about Jagger. Bruce raised his head.

“Of the Stones? I don’t think he would.”

“No, out of the Commodores. Of course the Stones.”

Bruce flinched slightly. He felt Paul’s glance on him, brief and almost softer, heard him clear his throat.

“Sorry. You don’t think he’d leave? Why not?”

“Because he can’t. There’s the money, but… he couldn’t cut out of being one of the Stones, not even if he wanted to.”

“You’re real naïve, Bruce. It’s cute.” Paul skipped the next song on the CD, then, once he’d surveyed the deck, he pushed another button. The CD swapped out with a humming sound, and after a second, Bob Seger came rasping through the speakers. Paul went silent then, except for that slight rap of his fingers against the steering wheel.

Bruce didn’t push for more conversation. Something mild about the weather, maybe, but that was about it. Paul was an oddly adept driver; Bruce had known that beforehand, but being in the car with him cemented it. He threaded through the traffic as adroitly as the cabbie he hadn’t been in fifteen years. Pulled in to the restaurant, a restaurant that didn’t look as luxurious as Bruce had expected.

He knew, three years in, that the flush of fame was more than half a put-on, that pretense was the name of the game, but he was still surprised. Paul and Gene kept a tight fist on KISS’ image, made sure the Playboy playmates and the rented mansions were all the public got a glimpse at. Even tried to keep him and Eric from really seeing what was behind the scenes. The money situation, the tour situation, like the two of them couldn’t count the empty seats from their vantage points onstage. But the put-ons had continued anyway. When they’d had sit-down dinners as a band, depending on the area, Paul and Gene would do their best to go somewhere classy, somewhere the right people would be. Not someplace like this.

He was surprised when Paul stepped out ahead of him and opened the restaurant door for him. Less surprised at the flash of recognition from the hostess, and the hasty way she led them both to a table.

“You come here often, Paul?”

“I’m just a good tipper.”

They sat down. The waitress awkwardly tried to pull back their chairs for them. Bruce cocked his head at that, but let her. She passed out the menus, rattling off the evening’s specials as if she wasn’t used to giving them, taking furtive glances at Bruce that Paul didn’t seem to notice, handing back the menu after barely looking at it.

“I’ll have a Long Island iced tea,” he said, “and he’ll take—Bruce, what do you want?”

“Coke is fine.”

“Are you sure?” Paul paused. “I probably won’t have half of it, if you’re worried about my driving—"

“I’m sure.”

“All right. … Go ahead and start me off on the spicy yellowtail roll, I think.” Paul said it so conversationally that Bruce thought he was still talking to him and not the waitress, at first. It didn’t help that he wasn’t quite looking her in the face, just turned vaguely in her direction. Antsy. The busboy darted over, passed out their glasses of water and a small saucer of lemon slices—Paul must’ve come down here more than once or twice.

It felt odd. The whole thing felt a little off-kilter, as if the tenseness from the studio had lingered like a shot of novocaine in his system. As if there was something—something everyone else was expecting. Bruce gave the waitress a second to scribble the order down before adding his.

“I’ll have a California roll.”

“Damn, you’re really breaking the bank here,” Paul said dryly.

“Nah, just kosher.” It was the first joke he’d even tried to go for since getting in the car, but Paul seemed to appreciate it. Enough to smile.

“I won’t tell. In fact, I might have one myself.” Paul took one of the lemon slices, squeezing it into his glass of water before dropping it in, shoving it down to the bottom with his straw. “Can’t get any farther from yeshiva than Hollywood, can you?”

“There’s always San Francisco.”

“You’re pretty funny when you try, Bruce.” Paul sipped at his water. “Did you go?”

“Go where?”

“To yeshiva.”

Bruce peeled the paper off his straw, shaking his head.

“Nah. Bob did. I wasn’t that interested.”

“Me, either. Hell, I didn’t even have my bar mitzvah. How’s Bob doing these days?”

Bob wasn’t a topic Bruce expected Paul to broach on his own. He blinked, then nodded, answering after a swallow of water.

“He’s good. Still touring with Meat Loaf.”

“Good.” Paul toyed with his straw. “If… if he gets a break, tell me. I’d like to catch up.”

Bob probably didn’t want to catch up. With him, the resentment simmered deep under the surface, probing its way up at regular intervals that only Bruce ever had to deal with. Fifteen years of it. Awhile back, Bruce had gone on a tour of Mount Kilauea, over in Hawaii. The guides had let them walk nearer to the lava flows than Bruce ever thought they would, and one guy almost lost his shoe from taking a second to step on the stuff. That was how Bob was. Volatility that seemed harmless right up until it set you on fire.

“Well, he’s on that world tour now, he’s pretty busy.”

“Yeah.” The corner of Paul’s mouth quirked up faintly as the waitress returned with their drinks. He was looking at her now—he kept looking at her past when she left their table—a wry expression on his face that Bruce couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t interest. She wasn’t Paul’s type; not blonde and not beautiful. Just a regular girl with an irregular patron. “I know.”

“I think he’s got a month off in July,” Bruce finally offered.

“Cool. Let me know?”

“Sure.”

Not a whole lot they could talk about that Bruce could see. Bob hadn’t ghosted a track for KISS in five years or so, and with Bruce around, he wouldn’t need to. Maybe Paul was just feeling sentimental, wanting to visit somebody that had been his friend. He didn’t exactly have a surplus of those.

Bruce sipped at his Coke, but Paul was already downing his drink like it was water after a marathon. Strange to watch. Bruce had never seen Paul take more than a single glass of wine at a party. New Year’s saw him more sober than most nursing home residents. Another absence out of Gene shouldn’t have been enough to change that.

“You probably think I’m a prick,” Paul said out of nowhere, waving his hand before Bruce could respond. “It’s fine, everybody does.”

“I don’t.”

“Jesus, Bruce, we’re having dinner, not discussing your contract. You can say I’m a prick if you want to. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I think you’re under a lot of pressure right now.”

“Is that what Eric told you to say?”

“No, I’m just—things seem like they’re getting to you.”

“Then it’s that obvious.” Paul laughed. “It’s so obvious you’re calling me out on it.”

“Paul, I’m not calling you out—”

“You are. That’s fine.” The Long Island iced tea was already halfway gone. Bruce hadn’t had more than three swallows of his soda. Paul shifted. “Hell, it’s kind of refreshing. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I’m not trying to—” Bruce started, but Paul continued before he could even finish the thought.

“I like it, all right, Bruce? Nobody but Gene’ll even try to tell me off anymore. And he doesn’t care enough to bother.” Paul only paused to take a long gulp of his drink. “Tell me what I should do. Tell me how to calm down.”

Bruce hesitated. His palm felt like wood against the side of his glass of Coke. He’d seen this before out of Paul. Not particularly often, and almost never toward him. That weird, calculated lashing out. It made him feel like a frog in the hands of a biology major. The amount of evisceration didn’t matter; he’d be dead no matter what.

“I don’t know. Look, man, your business is your business.”

Surprisingly, Paul went silent at that. His brow was furrowed, but he didn’t look angry or put-out. He didn’t look much of anything. The waitress came by with their sushi rolls, but Bruce only took the chopsticks in his hand and broke them apart, waiting for Paul to answer, or change the subject, watching him drain the last of his drink and order another without much of a pause.

“My business is your business, there’s the problem. Yours and Eric’s and Gene’s and—and Peter’s, isn’t that a laugh? His share of KISS hasn’t expired yet. God. I’ve been paying his rent for seven fucking years. Serve him right if the new album didn’t sell one copy.”

That was news to Bruce. He tried not to react visibly.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You sure I don’t? A quarter of zero’s still zero.”

“You want the album to do well. So do I. So does everybody involved.”

“It’s not gonna do well. Y’know what me and Gene did? We fucked ourselves over. We threw out everybody that we thought was trying to—to steer the ship out from under us. We stacked the deck so full of yes-men that we couldn’t see past our own asses.” Paul exhaled. “You… you’re never gonna tell me my lyrics are shit. You’re never gonna tell me I’m making a goddamn fool of myself out there onstage. I wish you would. I wish for one minute somebody would tell me exactly—”

“Do you really want someone to hurt you that bad?” Bruce said it softly. His throat felt like wet cardboard. Paul’s gaze—vaguely on his face, nowhere near his eyes, ever— dropped straight down to his drink, his fingers twitching before grasping his empty glass again, as if to steady himself.

“I’d beg them for it. If it’d get KISS back on top again, I-I’d let anyone do whatever they wanted.” Paul finally seemed to notice his plate of sushi. He picked one of the rolls up, slipping it into his mouth. He didn’t speak again until he’d finished swallowing. “Course, that’s not how the music industry works. There’s no—casting couch for a bunch of has-beens. No magic bullet. You can push and promote however you wanna, but if they don’t play it, it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Bruce didn’t know how to answer that. The silence spread like the cigarette smoke from a few tables over. He took in the scent, thinking of barrooms and ballrooms, thinking of KKB’s sad little shows when he was a teenager. The way the three of him would go out there for a handful of people, certain it’d work out, because it was working out for his older brother’s buddies. Because they were on tour, only Bruce didn’t know back then that tour was full of pubic lice and moldy boots, only Bruce didn’t know back then that tour nearly ended only a couple months in. He’d only scratched the surface. He hadn’t understood.

Paul’s second drink was set on the table, the drained glass disappearing like a magician’s feeblest trick. The waitress shot both of them a questioning look, one Paul ignored, taking his first swallow. Three shots worth of alcohol in a single glass of that shit. Three shots on an almost empty stomach. Bruce didn’t want to look at Paul right now. Instead, he looked over at the girl, wanting, strangely, to speak to her, to ask her what her expression was for, what she knew that he didn’t. It seemed—it seemed, strangely, like he ought to know, like everyone else knew—but she was back to the other patrons once she’d refilled Bruce’s glass.

“It isn’t even just about being on top anymore. It isn’t about the—the ego trip the way it used to be. I don’t give a damn these days if anybody recognizes me on the street or not.”

Bruce doubted that. He doubted that intensely. He’d seen Paul peering out the tour bus windows after they were in the hotel parking lots too many times. He knew he was always hoping for the old throng of autograph seekers and groupies. Gene, too. Even Eric, in scattered, abashed moments, would talk about the Australian and European tours back in ’80, the utter insanity of it (“so many girls I could’ve made it with, but I didn’t know any better—I thought they couldn’t want me, man, they had to be wanting somebody else”). Paul could still pick any girl he wanted out of the crowd, have a roadie bring her backstage. He still did it most nights. But the adulation had disappeared before Bruce ever arrived at the scene.

“If I could get a hit… if KISS could fill a couple stadiums, just a couple… then it’d be all right. I’d feel okay. God, who knows, maybe Gene would even show up to record again, you think?”

“He’ll be back anyway, Paul.”

“He won’t. He thinks we’re finished.” He was working on that second glass, almost as enthusiastically as the first. “Ace was mailing in his guitar parts just before he quit. But at least they were his. Gene’s throwing me songs he bought off the nearest wannabe writer on the street. And I sucked it up like an idiot at first because I thought he was gonna come back anytime, say he was sorry, get back to how it was. Instead he lets me handle everything, album after album. He gets credit for the successes like he even showed up. And he blows off the failures ’cause he’s got plenty of other bands he’s managing. Never mind his own.” An exhale. “He doesn’t give a damn anymore.”

“I think he does.”

Paul’s expression changed at that. The cynical cast to his features, the tight way he was holding his jaw, all that shifted, flickered, and for a bare, odd second Bruce could almost see the twenty-year-old Bob had brought over to their parents’ apartment and introduced as Gene’s friend. Then Paul shook his head and the moment disappeared.

“You don’t need to prop me up like that. It’s okay. I can’t give him what he wants, I need to cut my losses and quit trying.”

“Paul, listen, you’re not looking at this right. Gene’s not—”

“You don’t know how Gene is. I could be as understanding as Mother Theresa and he’d still be blowing me off.” Paul paused, drink midway to his lips. “I’m sorry. Am I ever gonna let you talk, Bruce? I can’t afford two therapy bills.”

Bruce shrugged.

“I don’t mind.”

“You’ve got a lot to say and I don’t ever let you say it. Not on MTV or the interviews… God, I act like we don’t all sleep in the same crappy hotels.”

“I don’t really like interviews, it’s fine.”

“Bruce, I’m trying to apologize.”

Bruce’s free hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing awkwardly, before resting back on the table.

“I know what you hired me to do. I’m not expecting anything else.”

“Maybe you deserve it.” Paul’s hand was on the table, fingers curled inches from Bruce’s own. “I like writing songs with you. I never… I didn’t write any with Ace, and Vinnie, well…” He shrugged. “It feels good. It feels real good.”

“I like it, too. It’s fun.”

“It makes me think it’s ’76. Like I’ll turn around and find Bob Ezrin snorting a mountain of coke in the office. And—and Ace and Peter, too, looking like they used to. I can fucking see Ace’s card deck. And Gene’d be right there, leaning up against the music stand—I can fool myself pretty good, when I want.”

“Look,” Bruce said, rubbing his chopsticks together with his finger and thumb, the sound soft, dry, “look, I honestly think things might be turning around.”

“They won’t turn eleven years around. I can’t fool myself that much.” Paul’s expression darkened back up, and he reached for his drink again. More than half of it was gone now. The side of his boot brushed against Bruce’s ankle for a brief moment before pulling back. “My accountant told me to stop sending my parents so much money. Like I was a kid spending all his allowance. I’ve cut so many expenses I’m down to a fucking one-bedroom apartment.”

Bruce’s gaze dropped to the untouched California roll on his plate, and the chopsticks in his hand. Paul laughed again.

“Go for it. It’s fine.”

“I wasn’t really that hungry.”

“Your check’s gonna clear with or without the sushi. Trust me.”

“Paul—”

“In fact…” Paul trailed, pulling his own plate forward, “that’s not how you eat sushi, anyway. When we went to Japan in ’77… we went out to this real authentic restaurant, supposedly. The sushi chef came out there and our guide, she’d translate everything he said… he said you don’t eat it with chopsticks, you eat it with your hands. ’Cause it was fast food, before Americans turned it into something it wasn’t.” Paul paused, picking up the second roll on his plate. “This used to be their version of a fucking hamburger, can you believe that?”

“That’s interesting,” Bruce said, and he meant it, but Paul’s expression got a little deflated.

“It’s not interesting, it’s awful. Like the hula girls in Hawaii. Every-everything turned into a commodity. You gonna eat that roll, Bruce?”

“Yeah, I’ll—”

“One bite.” Paul popped his own into his mouth to demonstrate. A few seconds of chewing, a swallow, and then he continued. “Course, you didn’t get the real stuff, so maybe it doesn’t matter, but…” He waved the waitress back over, absently. “Get him a rainbow roll, would you? Thanks.”

“Paul, c’mon—”

“If you don’t eat it, I will.” Paul said. His eyes looked a little sharper now, a little more intent. Bruce set down his chopsticks, picked up one of the small California rolls on his plate. The rice was sticky and cold against his fingers. He stuck it in his mouth, not bothering with the smear of soy sauce on the dish. The taste of surimi and cream cheese burst onto his tongue, neither excellent nor terrible, just there, competently mediocre. He reached for the next one, almost mechanically, but Paul’s hand was there already, closing over the roll before he could.

“Not real crab, I know,” he said, quietly, “but maybe it’ll taste better this way.” And then Paul had the roll in his palm, extended towards his face like an offering.

“Paul—”

“Go on, Bruce.”

Bruce reached for the roll. He meant to pick it up out of Paul’s hand, but something stopped him. Not Paul, not exactly. Paul didn’t curl up his hand or push it out further or say another word. Maybe it was pity, that bastard child of all emotions, that made Bruce just tip the sushi a little closer with his fingers as he ate it from Paul’s palm. One bite. His tongue didn’t get anywhere near Paul’s skin. But Paul seemed to relax at that. He was starting to smile again, mouth wavering like wind-tossed stalks of wheat in a field. The pads of his fingers brushed up against Bruce’s almost delicately, before he withdrew his hand.

“How was it?”

“Good. It was good.”

“Good.” Paul took another piece of his own sushi, dipping it lightly into the soy sauce. “Want to try some of mine?”

“I—no, that’s fine.”

“You don’t have to worry. Nobody here is gonna bother us.” Paul started in again, conversationally. “Are you shy, Bruce?”

“No. I’ll just finish what I’ve got.” Two pieces left. The waitress hadn’t returned with the rainbow roll yet. Bruce hesitated; for an insane moment he felt like he should add a thank you, but he cut himself off with another swallow of sushi. Across from him, Paul just shrugged and popped his own piece in his mouth, following it up by downing a little more of his drink.

“You are shy. That’s all right. I am, too.”

“Paul—”

“It’s cool.” Paul reached his hand across the table, resting it on top of Bruce’s, running his fingers up and down his wrist. His face was faintly flushed. “I mean, to be honest, it sucks, being shy in a rock band, but—it’s cool, I get it, if you’d rather in private—”

Bruce drew his hand back belatedly. Slowly, not wanting to startle Paul, whose expression barely faltered at all.

“I don’t think so.”

“Bruce—”

“You’ve had too much to make an offer like that.”

“I’d make it sober,” Paul said. Deprived of Bruce’s hand, he shifted forward. A second and Bruce felt the side of Paul’s boot against his ankle again. “You’re a good guy, I always liked you.”

“Paul, no.”

“I did. I always did. You…you’re reliable, you listen, you’re easy on the eyes—Bruce, it’s not—if you’re worried about your job, don’t be, this doesn’t need to—be anything, it’s just—”

“No.”

“Bruce, please.”

“No.” The wet cardboard feeling in his throat was back again. He could feel Paul’s eyes on him, not sharp anymore but suddenly desperate instead, his mouth tight as a steel trap. He should’ve stopped him. Shouldn’t have let him keep on and on. He’d never have gotten to this point then. He’d never peel back this much of himself, like the soft insides of a crab, weak and exposed. Bruce never should have let him do it.

He shifted his foot and stood up.

“Give me your keys. I’ll take you to the hotel.”

“I’m not—”

The waitress arrived with that second plate of sushi. This time she wasn’t looking at them at all. Something caught deep in Bruce’s throat then, something dark that he didn’t want to place or name for sure.

“Bruce, please.” Now Paul was standing, leaning one hand heavily against the table. A step, hand sliding to the edge of the table, and he was in front of Bruce, his other hand clamping around his shirt. Bruce could smell the cologne in his hair, the alcohol on his breath. “It—if you’d just stay with me—"

“Paul, let me have your keys.”

Paul pulled them out. Fumbled with his wallet. Bruce shook his head, taking the keys but nothing else, putting a couple bills from his pocket on the table before Paul could try to argue. He felt Paul press in against him, push his mouth sloppily against his neck, but that was all. No other come-ons or protests. Nothing. He shifted easily after, let Bruce walk him to the car, to the hotel, to his room, even. Bruce didn’t give the keys back until after that hotel door was unlocked and Paul was inside. He was tempted to hold onto them, even then—but Paul’s expression was faltering so badly that he didn’t want to strip any last piece of pride from him. He’d had sense enough to let Bruce drive. Surely he’d have sense enough to stay in his room.

Paul’s fingers closed around the keys for only a few seconds. Bruce watched as he dropped them on the dresser and stumbled to the bed, peeling off his boots, head bent and turned away from him.

“Go on. Would you go on, Bruce? I got it from here.”

Bruce hesitated at the door.

“Go on.”

Every reassurance he could make sounded hollow even in his brain. Even the ones from that afternoon. He couldn’t ease a burden he didn’t have the means to lift.

He turned the knob and left without a word.

He didn’t see Paul again until their next recording session. He’d left an apology on Bruce’s hotel answering machine, and a written one under his door, his cursive cramped and uneven, but he didn’t say a word. Bruce didn’t expect him to.

Gene was there at the studio, surprisingly, indifferent, with a copy of Variety open on his lap and a Pepsi in hand instead of his bass most of the session. Paul looked more sunken in than ever, vying for his attention, fooling around and playing riffs nearly twenty years old (“that’s how it goes, Gene, right, do you remember—‘My Uncle is a Raft,’ that’s the first song you ever—“) instead of laying down tracks.

It’s crap, Bruce. They don’t know it. They’re never gonna figure it out. That was what Eric had said, and maybe it was true, but maybe it wasn’t. And maybe he could do something, now that he’d seen past the last desperate bits of glamor Paul had left to offer.

Paul left before he did. Bruce watched him crank his car from where he stood outside the recording studio, the taillights glinting to life, and then the faint sound of the radio before he sped away. Mick Jagger blaring out “Just Another Night.”

Eric ducked out soon after, his ’79 Porsche like an artifact backing out of the parking lot. Gene’s chauffeur was already waiting, engine idling. Gene had the magazine under his arm. Bruce reached over on impulse, briefly grasping his forearm.

“Hey, Gene.”

“Bruce?” Gene looked up at him. “You need anything?”

“Could you do something for me?”

“You need a lift? You don’t have to ask—”

“I don’t need a lift.” His taxi had pulled up. He could picture the meter running, numbers spinning up like years, the inverse of the Billboard charts. “It’s not really for me, anyway. It’s for Paul.”

“What about him?”

“Be kinder to him. That’s all.”

Bruce expected Gene to protest. Give out the old lines he trotted out every interview, we’re like brothers and it’s like a marriage, tired and overplayed even five years ago. Instead, Gene hesitated.

“Bruce, you don’t understand.”

“No, but I’ve got a good idea.” The cab driver was looking at him, staring impatiently. Just a five-mile ride back to the hotel, a five-mile ride that’d take forty-five minutes, easy, this time of day. “You keep on hurting somebody and they’re never going to forget it. Whether this album’s a hit or not. Whether KISS ends up back in stadiums or back in ballrooms. That’s it. That’s all, Gene.”

He didn’t wait on an answer, just walked over to the cab. Gene clapped his shoulder on the way, and for a second, Bruce almost thought he’d say something, or follow him to the cab, something. But he just saw the brief shift of Gene’s expression the second before he shut the passenger door, the faint tightening of Gene’s mouth as he walked past the cab and to his own car, dropping the magazine to the pavement as he stepped inside. Bruce watched the car’s back wheels run it over, and then the cab’s, the pages fluttering on the pavement, nothing but vapid gloss against concrete.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #bruce kulick #paul stanley x bruce kulick

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taekookismylifeline · 4 years

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Title: Collateral (of love and bullets) Pairing: Yoongi/Hoseok Synopsis: Jung Hoseok may not be as successful as he wished to be when he was younger. Instead of being a dance instructor in his own dance studio, he worked full-time at a local supermarket – but at least he is happy, living with his boyfriend of two years, Min Yoongi, in a not-so-crappy apartment in the city. However, when he gets caught up in a robbery at his bank and his boyfriend disappears, his happiness is challenged, along with everything he thought he knew about the people he holds dear.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Chapter Six - two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart

Jinnie ><: hey Seokie Jinnie ><: Yoon said anything more to you?

Hoseok blinked at his phone, slowing his pace down and causing him to bump into a few people dashing by him to get to sales.

You: wdym?

He turned into the bakery – the one his mum would always take him to at the end of the week for a treat if he was well-behaved. It was nice to be home, incredibly nostalgic, and he always welcomed a home-cooked meal.

Jinnie ><: well, about why he was gone

Hoseok sighed. Seokjin had been more bizarre than usual over the last few weeks. He had left his apartment to get away from all of that. As well as things being weird between him and Yoongi.

You: I know he told you because he told me he did You: Seung passed away You: he doesn’t like to talk about it, and I don’t blame him

He was next in line and he picked out something distractedly, something with cream. He hurried out of the store, the snack wrapped in his pocket. He would go to the park his father would always take him and Dawon, eat on the bench, and maybe call Dawon – he hadn’t seen her in a good few months since after the wedding.

Jinnie ><: you don’t really believe that, do you?

Hoseok stared down at his screen blankly. He didn’t believe what he had read, but he didn’t get the proper chance to as the text disappeared quickly to be replaced by Seokjin’s contact icon.

Hoseok hesitated before accepting the call.

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok asked, frustration beginning to build.

“Hey, Seok, listen, think about it for a minute. Yoon stopped visiting his brother years ago, right? When was the last time?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok exhaled, checking the time on the clock of the mall, hoisted up in the middle of the escalators. “Maybe two years back. When we first started dating, he visited Seung a few times.”

“So, the last time he visited Seung was two years ago then, and then out of nowhere he pays him a visit?” Seokjin wasn’t playing around; the scepticism in his voice was honest.

“He passed away, Jin, what more do you want?” Hoseok snapped, sitting on the nearest bench and hissing into his phone.

“But he had a rare disease. Surely if it was so serious, Yoon would have visited him more often. Why did he stop visiting his brother for two years when he did it often before?”

Hoseok stared ahead, briefly seeing the people walk by each other, thick coats and scarves. It was nearing the winter holiday season. He and Yoongi should be spending it together really, but it was not to be. He had been feeling numb ever since he had arrived back in his hometown a week ago, even talking with his mum hadn’t helped.

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok forced out through the lump in his throat. “I don’t understand why you’re always doing this – Yoon… he’s going through a lot, and I don’t think he’d appreciate one of his best friends to be second-guessing every little thing.”

Seokjin was silent on the other end of the line. All Hoseok could hear was the loud hum of people talking, couples laughing and children exclaiming excitedly.

“Something’s not right, Seok.” Seokjin sounded weary. “We know it. You know it, deep down.”

“No. I do know something’s not right,” Hoseok spat, “it’s not right when you doubt your friends’ reason for mourning. What would he think of you? Why are you calling me? Are you trying to split us up for good or something?”

“Seok-”

“You know what? I don’t care. Don’t you dare approach him about this. Leave him alone. Obviously, you have no respect for him or his loss, so don’t contact us until you’re ready to have some common courtesy.”

Hoseok hung up with vigour, leaning back on the bench to breathe in deeply. He felt his lungs fill with air and his stomach-ache with something he couldn’t sate.

A girl was staring at him on the opposite bench, she looked frightened as if he hadn’t threatened her livelihood. He hated being under scrutiny, so he took off, phone burning in his pocket.

He should call Yoongi, he couldn’t help but consider as he marched up the escalator. It was a stupid thought; he was angry, miserable and confused. He wouldn’t be any use to Yoongi like that, then again, he had no idea how he could be useful to him.

Hoseok had gone back home because Yoongi had approached him one evening, three days after Hoseok had asked about sex, and told him that he was going away for a few days. A trip for himself, he had told Hoseok, and it wasn’t personal, but something he had to do for himself to get into the right headspace.

Hoseok, not wanting to spend lonely, mundane nights in the apartment for an uncertain amount of time once again, had left for home the morning Yoongi had left. He had taken Yoongi’s note with him: ‘I’m sorry about this, I’ll be back soon and then we can talk. I’m really sorry. None of this is your fault and I know this isn’t fair to you. I just don’t know what to do. I love you, Y.’

He had left his own note in return, and looking back, he was ashamed of it: ‘It’s fine, I understand. I’m going home for a bit, maybe until Christmas. Call me when you read this. I love you, too. Hobi.’ It was very plain considering everything he had wanted to say to Yoongi.

Truthfully, he didn’t really understand. Then again, he had never lost a sibling or a parent, or anyone at all. In that way, he was lucky, but Yoongi had not been blessed with the same fortune. Perhaps Yoongi was on a pilgrimage, maybe he had returned home to his own birthplace, or sorting things out with his parents. He had no idea.

His mum had told him to be patient. She had hugged him like he was a kid all over again and told him that it would all sort itself out, he simply had to have faith. So, he was trying to. But it was hard. Harder than it had to be.

Lost in his musings, he found his feet had brought him to the music shop him and his friends always visited after school, shopping for a bargain on mixtapes or CDs by niche underground artists.

The place had been done up since he had last been, which was two years and a bit ago. The colour palette had changed from dingy blue decorated with yellow ‘sale’ signs to a flashy red. It was a nice change and he found comfort in it.

He wondered over to the ‘overseas artists’ aisle, searching for nothing in particular, his thoughts caught between music and Yoongi. He almost didn’t notice the sales assistant approach him.

“Hey, man, can I help you with anything?”

This sales assistant wasn’t like the ones that worked at the store when he was younger. He wasn’t one of those surly guys who were barely legally old enough to work, and who had yelled at him for making too much noise about an album he was excited about. No. This sales assistant looked nice. He was smiling something earnest.

Hoseok smiled back, despite the numbness. “It’s fine, thanks. I’m just browsing.”

“Not looking for an international artist?” the sales assistant nodded towards the sign spelling ‘overseas artists’.

“Oh, no, I was just looking. I haven’t been here in ages,” Hoseok found himself admitting. He was hoping the guy would just nod and walk away before he opened his mouth and began spilling his childhood story to a stranger, but the assistant stayed put.

“Oh, really? You live nearby?” the assistant carried on, his expression smoothing out from being polite to being genuinely curious.

“Kinda,” Hoseok shrugged. He wasn’t too sure where he belonged right now. The sales assistant looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish. “Is there anything you recommend?” he gestured to the racks of CD’s in front of him.

The guy threw him another earnest smile. “Of course. It depends what you’re into, of course.”

Hoseok deliberated, unsure of whether to go on a music-based spiel or make some vague excuse and leave. He didn’t want to be on his own right now, and the sales assistant seemed to be friendly. What was the harm?

“I like hip hop. R&B too. I used to come here all the time for Monster Rabid’s new stuff,” Hoseok said, and found the assistant’s face light up.

“Oh, man. Have you listened to their new EP?” Hoseok shook his head. “You’re missing out. Come here, we can line it up on the jukebox.”

“Oh, really? It’s still here?” Hoseok asked, laughing in bewilderment. The age old music player which he and his school friends harassed on the daily, occasionally chasing out a few older patrons who had often visited for vinyls by blasting their current favourite tunes.

Looking back clearly, it was a wonder he had never received a life ban. He supposed the number of purchases he made cancelled out any chance of being kicked out for good.

The store did, in fact, have a jukebox. It was smaller than Hoseok remembered, and more battered too. Maybe another group of schoolchildren had come in and terrorised it once him and his friends had graduated. The thought drew an easy smile to his lips.

“Here she is,” the assistant introduced, as if gesturing to someone extraordinary.

Hoseok laughed as the assistant flipped through the song book. “It’s the same one from when I used to come here as a kid.”

The assistant smiled up at him. His dimples were rather prominent, Hoseok didn’t know how he hadn’t registered them before.

“It’s an OG then,” he said, “or maybe they just couldn’t afford to replace it.”

Hoseok hadn’t expected the sly comment and let out a burst of laughter he had to muffle. The assistant laughed with him, hiding his smile in the song book.

“Are they really that cheap?” Hoseok asked, dropping his volume so that the familiar strict-looking older man standing behind the cash register wouldn’t hear them.

“Well, put it like this, they’re short-staffed and they insisted on only have two people work today,” the assistant muttered, punching the song number into the jukebox.

“Wait, so you and the manager are the only ones on shift?” Hoseok asked, a familiar sense of dread brooding in his stomach. He hated being understaffed at work; the pressure only added to the anxiety he felt in his gut.

The assistant sucked in a breath and nodded just as the familiar chords started playing. “Yeah... it’s about as much fun as it sounds.”

Hoseok laughed in an accompanying manner. “I feel for you, man.”

“Yeah, it’s a worker’s demise. You work?” he asked and Hoseok nodded, silently asking for the songbook the assistant kept leafing through.

“Yeah. Retail.”

The guy nodded, a knowing smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Ah. So you do feel my pain.”

“All too well,” Hoseok mock-lamented, and the assistant chuckled.

There was a brief pause in which Hoseok appreciated the music and the lull in thoughts.

“I’m Lee Chinhae, by the way,” the assistant introduced, holding out his hand, “I would have loved to have pointed to my name-tag, but I’m new here, so I haven’t had one made yet.”

Read the rest on AO3!

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liugeaux · 4 years

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Linkin Park - Albums Ranked

I’ve written about Linkin Park before. It was following the death of Chester Bennington and mostly covered my mixed emotions about death. I’ve never really talked about how much I truly love the band’s work. Its been over 2 years since Chester passed and I think I‘m finally ready to dive back into the LP catalog whole-hog. As a young 17-year-old when Hybrid Theory came out I was the right age to fall in love with everything LP was doing. Their first two albums, the unreleased debut EP and the remix collection Reanimated were permanent fixtures in my CD case. It was a time of angry white guy music and LP were literally the best at the craft.

I’ve followed them VERY closely ever since and have always had strong opinions about each one of their albums. It's finally time to sit down, seriously critique each one and give my definitive ranking of LP’s LPs. For this list, we won’t include the aforementioned EP or any remix albums or live releases. I also won’t be including any of the many LP Underground CDs. As fun as those releases are, there are only 7 albums that actually matter. Here they are ranked from 7 to 1.

#7 - The Hunting Party

After a couple of experimental albums, 2014′s The Hunting Party was seen as Linkin Park’s conscious effort to make a heavier, more metal record. While technically they succeeded, the results were mixed at best. Much of the metal feels forced and sometimes awkward. The lead single “Guilty All the Same” stands alone as the worst lead single in the band’s catalog. Not to say its all bad, “All For Nothing” is a legit classic and an example of LP’s strength as a “metal” act. Ultimately, It’s a gutsy album that falls flat more often than not.

#6 - Living Things

Back when Living Things was released I wanted to like it so badly. The lead single “Burn It Down” was reminiscent of the LP sound of earlier albums and “Lost in the Echo” really resonated with me. However, they had not shed the more experimental ideas adopted on their previous album. The result was a half-hearted experiment that couldn’t seem to commit to a direction. If you were to tell me Living Things is a collection of trashed B-sides from the previous 2 albums, I would completely believe you. Even when I revisit the album I’m left with a feeling of disappointment because it could have been so good.

#5 - One More Light

One More Light gets a bad wrap. Is it a pop album? Yes. Does that bother me? No! Should it bother you? Absolutely not! After The Hunting Party, this is exactly the album Linkin Park needed. It’s their most emotional work since Minutes to Midnight and track to track the album is immensely therapeutic. Despite most of the lyrics being your typical sad LP affair, there’s an underlying joy to the whole project. Like the band finally felt unburdened by their reputation and was making the music they wanted to make. "Sorry For Now” even sees Shinoda and Bennington pseudo swapping the rapper/singer roles. It’s really the first album where Shinoda’s singing feels natural. I’m not saying I wanted to see a new career direction, with LP making pop albums for a decade, but for that moment in time and taking into consideration the devastating events following its release, One More Light might be the perfect album.

#4 - A Thousand Suns

A Thousand Suns was LP’s first big shake-up of the established formula. The standard Rap/Rock ingredients are technically there, but it’s wrapped in a sonic chaos of future-like abience and anchored by samples from speeches by notable historical figures like J. Robert Oppenheimer and Martin Luther King Jr. It’s a concept album that aggressively strays from anything you’ve ever heard before. To this day I’ve never heard a band steal the style and sound of A Thousand Suns, and while the rest of the LP library can be reductively placed in a “tracks that sound like the 00′s” box, A Thousand Suns stands as evidence that the band is more talented and interesting than you think. This is LP’s Ziggy Stardust, 2112, or American Idiot. It may not be their best album, but it’s absolutely their coolest. Oh, and “Waiting for the End” slaps harder than any other song in their catalog.

#3 - Meteora

Meteora had the difficult task of following up one of the most successful and influential rock albums of the new century and for the most part, it did a wonderful job of maintaining the established sound of Hybrid Theory while stretching its legs in relatively predictable directions. “Faint”, “Lying From You”, “Figure 9″ and “Numb” remain some of my favorite LP tracks. Meteora is the best representation of who LP was at the height of their reign. The sound is unmistakable and the songs are iconic. Any band would love to have an album as good as Meteora, and LP has at least 3 of them. If Hybrid Theory is the equivalent to the first time you’d ever eaten street tacos, Meteora is an entire buffet of Mexican cuisine.

#2 - Hybrid Theory

I put more time into ranking numbers 2 and 3 than I’m willing to admit. Both of them completely took over my CD player when released and both had a large hand in shaping a portion of my emotional growth. Hybrid Theory was edgy, it was cool, it was smarter than its contemporaries and with its laser-sharp production, it commanded respect. Sure, was it angry white-dude music? Yes, but the anger and aggression came from points of weakness and believable vulnerability. I connected with Hybrid Theory so much, that 20 years later I find it hard to even speak critically of it. Its flaws are features, its signs of age help ground my own personal growth. Speaking on a personal level, Hybrid Theory MIGHT be my album of the decade. So to try and place it into the context of a ranked list is nearly impossible. Un-luckily Chester Bennington’s death helped lock in the top three of this list in ways I would have never predicted.

#1 - Minutes to Midnight

By 2007 I was all-in, LP was MY band. When Minutes to Midnight was released I was first-in-line buying the ultra-special edition. Unfortunately at the time I just didn’t get. Like, I owned it, I just didn’t GET IT. Musically it was the next logical step in the evolution of the band and Rick Ross’ looser somewhat dirty production was a welcomed departure from the more polished Don Gilmore albums. However, for the first 10 years after its release, I thought of Minutes to Midnight as a bit of a disappointment. It’s probably 2 tracks too long, Shinoda’s singing was a bit off-putting and unlike its predecessors, it didn’t feel cohesive. Sure “What I’ve Done”, “Given Up” and “No More Sorrow” were and are some of the biggest and best anthems the band has ever recorded, Outside of that the album just felt hollow.

In 2017 Chester Bennington ended his own life. At that point, my love for Linkin Park was still alive, but my interest in them had waned a bit. Chester’s death sent me into a music-hole like I had never experienced before. For weeks all I listened to was LP’s albums back to back. Chester’s words meant more than ever and out of that deep dive came an appreciation for Minute to Midnight I could never see coming. Songs like “Leave Out All the Rest”, “Shadow of the Day”, “Bleed it Out” and “The Little Things Give You Away” came to life with an emotional vibrancy I had never seen before. LP is at their best when they are swinging for the fences and Minutes to Midnight is them hitting grand slam after grand slam, with a few strikeouts sprinkled in. It’s flawed and beautiful, and that’s kinda the point. It’s LP’s most personal and human album, and that’s why it's at the top of this list. Prior to my 2017 revelation, it might have hovered somewhere between #’s 2 and 4, but in 2020 Minutes to Midnight is #1 with a bullet.

#linkin park #Mike Shinoda #Chester Bennington #minutes to midnight #hybrid theory #meteora #the hunting party #a thousand suns #one more light #living things #ranked

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northcountryprimitive · 4 years

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“I Have at Least Five Albums Worth of Material Yet to Record!” An Interview with Mark Fosson

This interview with the late Mark Fosson originally appeared at North Country Primitive on 25th May 2015

We are very pleased to bring you an interview with the last guitarist John Fahey signed to Takoma records, Mark Fosson. After Takoma was sold, Mark’s recordings for the label remained in his garage unheard for almost 30 years, until they were finally released in 2006 by Drag City. A further archival release, Digging in the Dust, a collection of early home recordings, was released by Tompkins Square in 2012. Fast forward to 2015, and Mark has just brought out his first ever new collection of instrumentals, kY, a paean to his home state of Kentucky, and mighty fine it is too - in our view, his best album yet. Recorded at his home in Baltimore, the album has a timeless, folk-infused quality and features Mark on banjo and dulcimer as well as an enviable collection of guitars…

Can you start off by telling us about the new album, kY? You appear to be revisiting your roots on two accounts: firstly, it has the feel of the sort of pure American Primitivism that could have been put out by Takoma any time in the 70s; secondly, the strong traditional folk themes suggest that you are literally revisiting your roots as a native Kentuckian. I had been trying to record a whole other group of instrumentals that I had written and not getting anything I was really happy with. I was probably trying way too hard to come up with the perfect guitar album and being way too critical, which I’m prone to do. At a certain point I realized I wasn’t having any fun at all and decided to step away from it for a while. So next time I went down to my studio, I pulled out my banjo instead of a guitar and started noodling around and came up with Kingdom Come. I had just purchased a Tascam DR-05, so I made a quick recording of it and was totally pleased with the way it came out. I thought, why not do a whole new album that way? So I would sit and noodle every day till I came up with an idea I liked and record it immediately, while it was still fresh. Most of the songs are first takes, but I never did more than three takes and I think the tunes have a very spontaneous feel because of it. I used the Tascam on quite a few of the songs on the record… Kingdom Come, Kentucky, Cold Dark Holler, Come Back John. All the songs are inspired by my childhood memories of growing up in Kentucky. I recorded it at Pine Box Studios - a.k.a my basement. What have you been up to recently? It’s been eight years since Jesus on a Greyhound came out. I’m aware of the live sessions you’ve done for Folkadelphia and Irene Trudel, but I guess you’ve been keeping busy in other ways… I moved to Baltimore about six years ago and have been writing and playing every chance I get. Did a short tour with Daniel Bachman when our Tompkins Square records came out… Done quite a few gigs in Philly and New York, some with Don Bikoff, who has become a good friend. A lot of excellent young musicians out there I’ve had the chance to play with… Hope to do a lot more. Were you pleased with the response to Digging in the Dust? Were these recordings what brought you to the attention of John Fahey and Takoma in the 70s? Yes, I was very pleased with the response… it’s good to have it out there after all these years! These are the tapes I originally sent to Takoma. There were also five vocal tracks on that demo which John really liked. I’m not crazy about the way my voice sounded back then… like I was 12 years old! Luckily I’ve learned to sing a little better over the years. There was a song on the demo called Grandpa Was A Thinker, which John and his wife, Melody, liked a lot. I’m pretty sure it was that one and Gorilla Mountain that got me signed. How did you link up with John Fahey and Takoma Records? I had been listening a lot to releases on Takoma… I think I wore out a coupla copies of Kottke/Lang/Fahey. On a lark I sent the tape to them, never dreaming I’d get signed! I remember I had come home from work - I was working in a steel plant at the time - and had fallen asleep in my chair. My wife woke me up, saying, “There’s some guy named Charlie Mitchell from Takoma Records on the phone.“ Then when I got to California, John co-signed for a brand new Martin 12-string. I kick myself nearly every day for selling that guitar later on! As soon as I got to LA, I started opening shows for him… I think the first was McCabe’s Guitar Shop in Santa Monica, which was right next door to the Takoma office. His records sounded great, but hearing him live - and that close! - was an unbelievable experience. How did Drag City come to release The Lost Takoma Sessions 29 years after it was recorded? My cousin Tiffany Anders had started listening to Fahey and found out I had been on the label, so she asked for a copy of the recordings. They were gathering dust in the corner of the garage and I was reluctant to let her have them at first, because I figured the stuff was too old for anyone to care about. She proceeded to send it around and before long I had three or four offers from labels to put it out. I eventually decided on Drag City and I think they did an excellent job of getting it out there. What was the musical journey you took to playing solo acoustic guitar? Did you do the whole garage band thing first or were you always attracted to acoustic music? And what were your formative influences, musical or otherwise? Everyone in my family was a total music lover, so I was bombarded with good music of all styles from an early age. When I was in elementary school, Jean Ritchie would come and perform every year… that’s probably the first traditional folk music I was exposed to. I played a festival with her later on and at the after-show jam, I talked her into giving me a dulcimer lesson, which was totally cool of her. My Aunt Rachel sang and played guitar and I was always asking to play her guitar. I bugged her so much, in fact, that she gave me one of hers - a Beltone. What a beauty! That pretty much started me down the guitar road. Also my dad would buy 45s from the guy that stocked the jukeboxes in the beer joints he frequented and was always bringing home the cool, obscure music… lots of blues and extreme hillbilly stuff. Later on I became a Roger Miller fan and pretty much taught myself to play listening to his records. My grandmother was bedridden for a long time and I would go to her house and try the songs out on her. If I got her laughing I considered it a success.

Then at the age of 14, the Beatles broke and that’s when me and probably a billion other teenagers decided to become musicians. That turned into a succession of garage bands. Then in college I started getting more in to the folk music again. My buddy Dan Gore and I would spend hours at the school library listening to the old blues and Folkways records - The Harry Smith Anthology was a big favorite - and we began performing at the school’s coffeehouse every Friday night. It was run by my English teacher, Nancy McClellan, and she also organized some of the big folk festivals in the area. She may have encouraged me more than anyone to be a musician. Then when I was stationed in North Dakota in the Air Force, I began discovering the Takoma artists. I actually bought the Kottke/Lang/Fahey album because of the cool cover - I wasn’t that familiar with the artists at that point - and was blown away by it. I think the most influential album for me, though, is Peter Lang’s Thing At The Nursery Room Window. It’s still one of my top five favorite albums of all time. Which reminds me… I think Daniel Bachman forgot to give me back my Peter Lang CD!

What were you up to between the Takoma recordings and Jesus on a Greyhound? Did you keep making music during this period? Can you tell us how Jesus… came about? When the Takoma thing fell apart, I continued playing around Los Angeles, Sometimes solo, sometimes with a small group. I played with a bass and tabla player for a spell - that was a great sounding little combo. Then in the mid 80s, I started a country rock duo called Crazy Hearts with Karen Tobin. We had a song on the A Town South Of Bakersfield compilation, along with Lucinda Williams, Jim Lauderdale and Dwight Yoakam, then went to Nashville to showcase, but Karen ended up getting a solo deal on Atlantic Records and that was pretty much the end of the duo. Then I started a group called The Bum Steers with my good friends Edward Tree on electric guitar, Taras Prodaniuk on bass and Billy Block on drums. We caused quite a ruckus in Nashville: Porter Wagoner personally invited us to play the Grand Ol’ Opry, but I think we may have been a little too left-of-centre for that town. Anyway, after these two full-blown groups, I decided to get back to basics and perform solo again. Jesus On A Greyhound came about because I wanted to write an album’s worth of songs that sounded good with just voice & guitar. And although I did add some extra musicians to the record, the music is still drastically stripped down compared to what I had been doing. And totally acoustic. At the moment there seems to be a veritable swarm of young players influenced by the American Primitive sound. Do you feel any particular affinity for them? Are there any favourite players who particularly stand out for you? When The Lost Takoma Sessions came out, were you aware of people like Jack Rose and Glenn Jones? I started to become a lot more aware of the newer guitarists when Lost Takoma came out. I did a short tour with Joanna Newsom and she turned me on to a lot of the younger players. Of course I was aware of Jack Rose and was already a Glenn Jones fan. Then, like I said earlier, I did a short tour with Daniel Bachman and was really impressed with his playing. He’s on fire… seems like he puts out a new record every two weeks. Met Nathan Bowles through Daniel and I really enjoy his banjo playing, both solo and with the Black Twig Pickers. I’ve become friends with quite a few of the new pickers: through Don Bikoff I met Matt Sowell, who introduced me to Kyle Fosburgh, who introduced me to Hayden Pedigo. I got to play a duet with Hayden on his new record Five Steps. There is certainly no shortage of excellent young musicians out there! Lots of great records being made…I’m always checking out the new stuff. You play banjo on a couple of tracks on the new album, which sounds fantastic. Are you a big fan of the instrument? Are we likely to hear more banjo excursions from you in the future? Thank you… I love playing banjo! Seems like I don’t do it as much as I would like to, but it’s getting a little more frequent all the time. I keep saying I’m going to get a really nice clawhammer and get serious with it… someday! I was at a songwriter retreat in Stanley, Idaho, a couple of weeks ago and one of the musicians had a killer clawhammer with nylon strings that sounded amazing. So what happens next? Any plans for gigs? Have you got more material up your sleeve? Well I have at least five albums worth of material yet to record, so I’ll just keep plugging along and making new records. Been getting a lot of pressure to put out a follow-up to Jesus On A Greyhound, so that’s probably the next project up. Unless things change…which they do! And of course I plan to keep gigging as long as I can.

Behind kY - Mark Fosson’s Track-by-Track Guide

We asked Mark about the guitars and other instruments he used on kY. He responded by sending us a track-by-track guide to the instruments played and the tunings, as well as a little background on each of the tunes. Jimmy Leg Mule high strung Tacoma Road King [C -G - C - G - C - E] You need to visualize riding this mule as you listen. Loose Change 1995 Martin 00016GT [Standard Tuning] The ‘loose change’ refers more to the chord progression than the amount of coins in my pocket. The way it sort of gets lost at the end and falls in a hole… I meant to do that! When We Were Young 1968 Gibson B-25 12 String [A# - F - A# - F - A# - D] I wrote this one for my grandparents, Harry & Grace Steed. Kingdom Come Deering "GoodTime” banjo [G - D - G - A# - D] Kingdom Come is a real town in Harlan County, Kentucky. Indian Summer Tacoma DM1812E3 12 String [C - F - C - F- F- C] Glenn Jones showed me this tuning and I proceeded to write about seven songs using it. Dogwood Dulcimer was made by Robbie Long, San Geronimo, CA 1976 [A - A - A - D] I often wonder if the fellow who built this dulcimer is still alive? Simpleton 1956 Gibson LG2 [C - G - C - G - C - E] There was a fellow named John in my hometown who would stand on the corner directing traffic & waving to everyone who passed. In the old days he would have been considered the ‘village idiot” but my folks used to refer to him as the ambassador of good will. Cold Dark Hollow 1956 Gibson LG2 [D - A - D - F - A - D] A cold dark hollow is an eerie place when the sun is about to go down… I tried to capture that feeling. Avondale Strut Tacoma DM1812E3 12 String [C - G - C- E - G - C] The part of town where the black folks lived… my romanticized idea of a regular Friday night there. A Drink w/Stephen F 1995 Martin 00016GT [Std tuning] Legend has it that Stephen Foster drank himself to death in the North American Hotel and left this world with 38 cents in his pocket. Which brings us back to the amount of coins in my pocket… let me check… hmmm …39 cents. Bad Part Of Town Deering “Good Time” banjo [G- D - G - B - D] There’s a ‘Bad Part’ in every town… And I’ve been to a LOT of towns Kentucky 1990 Gibson J100 [D - A - D - F - A - D] I’m not sure what this one is about. Come Back John 1968 Gibson B25 12 String [ A# - F - A# - F - A# - D] This is me trying my damndest to write a John Fahey tune… inspired by Sunflower River Blues, which John taught me how to play backstage at Bob Baxter’s Guitar Workshop, 1977.

#mark fosson #american primitive #takoma #john fahey

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