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goodbysunball · 4 months

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Best of 2023

Toledo, OH, Dec. 30, 2023

It's going to take years to unpack the last few months of 2023. Whatever mental trauma is inflicted upon those removed from the situation in no way approximates the devastation and inhumanity occurring daily to millions. That the US is funding it all, and institutions and businesses domestically are punishing those who speak out about it, is sickening and terrifying. The latest Lulu's email newsletter wrote more eloquently about it all than I could, and plainly calls for empathy at the end: "Be good in a bad world."

And we do that, pretending things are normal for the sake of others, our kids, our partners. But things are not normal, and that pressure forces other changes, because while we can to some degree control what happens within our lives, there's no fix for seeing (let alone experiencing) dead, maimed children regularly on Instagram, victims of bombings without caution or consequence. A sense of powerlessness pervades. What we can do is keep talking, sharing and banding together. Being good in a bad world.

Some notes:

Lots more instrumental, or nearly instrumental, music than usual this year on my list, which tracks with the current climate. Music without words, or without discernible words, leaves space for thoughts to become untangled, sure; but a lot of what’s highlighted below felt more transcendent than meditative.

I still listen to rap quite a bit, but very few new songs I heard stuck around past a few days. Call it malaise from living in an era where every other song on the radio has a trap beat. Starlito dropped a clunker, which shouldn't have shocked me but did, and it personally felt significant. Maybe it’s indicative of the old guard’s demise, but hopefully it removes a wall and allows me to engage with newer rap music better. That being said: Veeze's Ganger was head and shoulders above everything else; billy woods' short verse on "As the Crow Flies" made me gasp the first time I heard it (and I also loved ELUCID's verse on "Baby Steps"); and I listened to The Jacka's The Jack Artist most of all.

Of all the books I read this year, two books by Fernanda Melchor, Hurricane Season and Paradais, stood out. Melchor’s prose is incredibly powerful, bleakly funny and vicious in equal measure. The sharp, frank assessments by characters in often ludicrous situations feel like a product of the contemporary but imbued with some ancient wisdom. Shout out to Julia S. for the new and notable South American literature tips.

In the midst of holiday/short day doldrums, amidst endless bleak news reports, it was difficult battling back cynicism to listen to anything, especially back to all of these records and tapes listed below. It ended up being oddly therapeutic, highly enjoyable and maybe necessary, the same as when I force myself out to shows when it's easier to stay home. That feeling chips away at the notion of this list-making exercise as futile, for me certainly, but hopefully also for you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you find something you like, too.

And so:

Lewsberg, Out and About (12XU)

Equipment Pointed Ankh, From Inside the House (Bruit Direct Disques)

The Native Cats, The Way On Is the Way Off (Chapter Music)

Water Damage, 2 Songs (12XU)

VoidCeremony, Threads of Unknowing (20 Buck Spin)

Emily Robb, If I Am Misery Then Give Me Affection (Petty Bunco)

CIA Debutante, Down, Willow (Siltbreeze)

Olimpia Splendid, 2 (Fonal/Kraak)

Nusidm, The Last Temptation of Thrill (Bruit Direct Disques)

Incipientium, Undergång (Happiest Place)

Witness K, s/t (ever/never)

Leda, Neuter (Discreet Music)

12"/10"/7"/CS

Chrome Cell Torture, Laugh Then Lie 7" (Scarlet)

Joe Colley, Acting As If 10" (Substantia Innominata)

Disintegration, Time Moves For Me 12" (Feel It)

Life Expectancy, Decline CS (Iron Lung)

Gabi Losoncy, Lieutenant single-sided 12" (self-released)

Peg, We Know Who You Are and Everyone Is on the Lookout CS (No Rent)

Romance, Seven Inches of... 7" (self-released)

Sial, Sangkar 7" (La Vida Es Un Mus)

Slow Blink/Stomachache split CS (Hectare)

Howard Stelzer, oh calm down you're fine CS (No Rent)

Troth, Idle Easel 12" (Digital Regress)

Mark Van Fleet, Vordenal CS (Refulgent Sepulchre)

Stress Positions at the Pilot Light, Dec. 9, 2023

Shows

Bill Orcutt & Chris Corsano duo at Jackson Terminal, Knoxville, TN, April 1

Hell & My Wall at DRKMTTR, Nashville, TN, April 7

Cyberplasm, X-Harlow & FKA Ice at the Pilot Light, Knoxville, TN, May 18

Lewsberg at JJ's Bohemia, Chattanooga, TN, September 27

Stress Positions & Utopia at the Pilot Light, Knoxville, TN, December 9

Five songs favorably commented upon by my 3 y/o daughter*

*Something that happens so rarely that I try to take note when it does

Dua Lipa, "Levitating"

Martin Frawley, "Heart In Hand"

Mount Trout, "Hang Around"

Witness K, "In Knots"

The Young Senators, "Ringing Bells (Sweet Music) Part II"

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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Equipment Pointed Ankh — From Inside the House (Bruit Direct Disques)

From Inside the House by Equipment Pointed Ankh

“Belmont Hand Wash” tilts and wobbles, a junkyard percussion cadence marking time and space, as close, dissonant sax notes blurt in from the sides. Charming like a wind-up toy, but with some dangerous edges, the tune explores chaos in a framework of tight discipline, wild blots of brass bursting through the tick-tocky measures.

Equipment Pointed Ankh is a gang of Louisville, KY improvisers who prove, once again, that the people who commit to oddity in the heartland really commit. These tracks bounce and jitter like they want to dance, but then tip sideways into lush string synth lyricism, inscrutable spoken word, and, in one cases, the sound of soda sucked through a straw.

And yet, they’re all rather beautiful, in a jump-cut, robot-dreaming way. “Late Night AI” frolics in a space-age toy town. It’s precise and playful but with bits of Sun Ra cosmic jazz floating in from the ether. “Rubber Slacks” pursues a hard, vibrating beat, like a jaw harp but clearly synthetic. The edges are so sharp you pull your hand back, stung, from sudden contact. And yet, wild, wiggy interjections pierce the surface, the wild vibrato of horror movie organ, the squeaking of doors, squalls of intemperate noises, someone shouting “check, check, check.” There’s a lot going on. It flies in all directions, without, somehow, ever falling apart.

The title piece is the album’s natural center, allowing wavery tone-washes and cascades of electronic sound to frame spoken word. “The stone gives the river its shape,” observes the speaker in a flat midwestern drawl, at one point before slipping back under a curtain of sensation. And later, “I’m making plans for the flowers that don’t include me.” It’s elliptical, possibly nonsense, but also indeniably transporting.

This has all been going on, apparently, since the mid-teens, and in Kentucky (the cool part of Kentucky, but still). It’s enough to give you pause the next time you’re about to say something dismissive about the red states or the south or whatever else has earned your scorn. Instead, let’s pour one out for the beautiful weirdos in unlikely places, doing what they do.

Jennifer Kelly

#equipment pointed ankh #from inside the house #bruit direct disques #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #lexington #kentucky #improvised music

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remainsstreet · 1 year

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Playing my final show of 2022 in Louisville with Equipment Pointed Ankh and Ylem at Planet of the Tapes. First time playing outside of Lexington in a few years, come out if you're in the area! Here's the poster I made for the show.

#equipment pointed ankh #ed sunspot #louisville #Kentucky #show flier #show poster #collage

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still-single · 3 months

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HEATHEN DISCO show no. 367 -- LISTEN

click up thar to listen, where you will hear:

R. Campana & D. Reggi - Electro Voice

Roy Montgomery and Friends - Sky

Drifting - Azimuth Alignment

Earth Dies Burning - Another Six Year Old

Women’s Hour - Hiding

The Shadow Ring - Cape of Seaweed

Equipment Pointed Ankh - Paradise City Billiards

Pram - Dancing on a Star

Tolouse Low Trax - Vai Vai

Gang Starr - Brainstorm

Godflesh - Nero

Mother’s Milk - Sewer Harp

The Yummy Fur - Plastic Cowboy

Mode Hexe - MARZ18

Inner City - That Man (He’s All Mine) (Goh’s Phone Dub Mix)

Sugar Style - Midnight Scratch

Checkpoint - Checkers

Index for Working Music - Halb Leib II

Matt Krefting - Both This Life and the Next

The Pheromoans - It’s a Little Bit Different

Astrid Sonne - Do You Wanna

Omit - Dipvoid

#mosurock #heathendisco #mixcloud #dj set #new music #old music

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newhappygathering · 8 months

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https://aquariumdrunkard.com/2023/09/26/equipment-pointed-ankh-from-inside-the-house/

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dustedandsocial · 1 year

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Dusted&Social #09 (2-17-23)

Pictured: Cosey Mueller AyooLii - Soul Train Cosey Mueller - Innen Ohne Osheyack - A River's Mouth Delacave - Fatherless chimers - generator Guppy - Crystal Hog Zera - Earth Burnt Public Relations - Radio Troth - Amarant Fiesta En El Vacío - Dream Partner mantarochen - Massen in der Stadt FERAL - RECLUSE Chad Void - Two Snakes Cakedog - Hollywood Hoe Antoine Heroics - Dynamic Beau Wanzer - SIMPLE MEN Equipment Pointed Ankh - Late Night A.I. Leyden Jars - A Seed A Start Le Cri du Caire - Sadiya (Purple Feathers)

https://www.mixcloud.com/dustedandsocial/dustedsocial-ep-09-2-17-23/

#mixes

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cyanidetooth · 1 year

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Nusidm! Mandy, Indiana! Die Letzten Ecken! Frank Marchi! Wolf Eyes! Midnight Dental! Body/Head! Prairiewolf! Gut Health! Sharizza! Snooper! DANA! Stella Research Committee! Advoids! During! Brick Head! Exwhite! Shitty Life! Red Mass! Inyeccion! Lafff Box! Die Verlierer! Mononegatives! Pyrex! Abi Ooze! Tyvek! UV-TV! Star Party! The Myrmidons! Slyne And The Family Stoned! Adrenochrome! Straw Man Army! Human Adult Band! Sky Furrows! Equipment Pointed Ankh! Rider/Horse! Odd Nosdam! Model Home! Dan Melchior Band! The Dead C!

#wfmu #creamocoyl #spinageblasters #freeformradio

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streamblank · 1 year

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Teaser for next release by Equipment Pointed Ankh #epa on #bruitdirectdisques OUT IN 2022 https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl6IhYbtC0Q/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#epa #bruitdirectdisques

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noloveforned · 1 month

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no love for ned is on wlur from 8pm until midnight tonight and i hope you can join us.

i just realized i'm starting off the show tonight with a song from the spinanes who i was introduced to almost exactly thirty years ago. they opened for the afghan whigs at the famed city gardens (jon stewart was a bartender there in the eighties!) on april 8th, 1994. i remember the exact date because it was the day kurt cobain's body was found. the radio announced it that afternoon while we were in the car. i know there was a lot of talking about it that night, especially since both bands were on sub pop (where nirvana got their start). not sure i have much else to say- just a memory that was prompted by a band and date.

anyway, i've also archived last week's show on mixcloud for you to catch whenever you'd like if you're busy tonight!

no love for ned on wlur – march 22nd, 2024 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label martha // a praise chorus // is tomorrow just a day like all the rest? 7" // big scary monsters marbled eye // tonight // read the air // summer shade deerhoof // punch buggy valves // reveille // joyful noise checkpoint // friends // drift // erste theke tontraeger girl germs // magazine // tremorverse one compilation // tremorverse mononegatives // kill mono // kill mono flexi 7" // feral kid the celebrities // runaway baby // redd karpet ep // total punk virvon varvon // corner seat // four bars of hate cassette // girlsville cuticles // cheese in my brain // major works // siltbreeze reverse yr curse // how we get around // reverse yr curse ep // (self-released) the second wife // needle // tourist // potluck foundation rosali // my kind // bite down // merge waxahatchee featuring mj lenderman // right back to it // tigers blood // anti- lee baggett // all star day // echo me on // perpetual doom hochzeitskapelle featuring enid valu // stockholm syndrome // we dance ep // alien transistor alien eyelid // lemons (country club mix) // lemons (country club mix) digital single // fruit leather equipment pointed ankh // trucks to gettysburg // downtown // torn light ruth goller featuring tom skinner // below my skin // skyllumina // international anthem jessica ackerley, kevin cheli and gahlord dewald // aloft // submerging silently // cacophonous revival masao nakajima quartet // third plane // kemo-sabe // bbe music tani tabbal quartet // up start // intentional // mahakala dj harrison // lil birdie // shades of yesterday // stones throw tierra whack // accessible // world wide whack // interscope nimsins and ovrkast. // something else // me vs me ep // lofiction tanya morgan featuring piakhan // alleye need // brooklynati // interdependent media pete and cheez // you and me // eccentric soul: the shoestring label compilation // numero group calypso // the summer lies // the summer lies digital single // (self-released) shout out louds // the comeback // howl howl gaff gaff (revisited) ep // rutan tutan good morning // ahhhh (this isn’t ideal) // good morning seven // polyvinyl julia mcfarlane's reality guest // sensory // whoopee // night school mister baby // orange days // two two seven compilation // prefect research vessel // like today // going tomorrow cassette // small craft advisory dogbreth // into your arms // second home benefit volume one compilation // second home

#wlur #radio shows

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mask-of-anubis · 3 years

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1 with Nina and Jerome 🙌

This took me so long to get to but here it is! (other asks are coming soon, I promise!)

“Nina asks Jerome to do something ‘no questions asked’ and Jerome fears the worst.”

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Anubis House, 9pm.

As a matter of principle, Jerome liked to stay as far away from Nina Martin and her trail of bad luck as much as possible. He learned that lesson early on, but that didn’t mean he stuck to it. He always seemed to get involved with her Scooby gang eventually, even if he didn’t mean to. They were nothing but trouble, and he had more than enough of his own.

So when his phone rang at 9pm one night and he saw her contact name, he almost chucked his phone under his bed. Against his better judgement though, he answered it.

“Is this a butt dial?” he asked, hoping to quickly communicate that a call at this time of night (when she was right upstairs, mind you) was not welcome.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” she said, cutting right to the chase.

“I’m sorry?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I need you to do something for me ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

Jerome stopped. “Absolutely not...” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You owe me a ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

“I do not…” Jerome scoffed, but she once again interrupted.

“Valentine’s Day, last year,” she said. “Need I remind you?”

“Okay! Okay, I remember,” he said quickly. Ugh. Why the hell did he ask her of all people to help? He had hoped she would forget and never cash in, but apparently today was the day.

He couldn’t believe he was on the hook for a girl who had even more enemies and sketchy night activities than he did. It was equally likely she would ask him to help her find a nerdy signed book as a present for Fabian as it was that she would ask for help burying a body. He hoped for the former.

There was nothing he could do. A “no questions asked” was binding at Anubis. He was indebted and it was time to cash in.

He sighed. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Meet me in the Frobisher Library, 11pm. Bring your noise-cancelling headphones, a headlamp, and a trowel,” Nina said. The second she was done talking, she hung up.

“God dammit…” said Jerome.

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Frobisher Library, 11pm.

“We better not be burying a body, Martin,” said Jerome three hours later when he walked into the library and found her sitting in the dark with a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” said Nina.

“Despite what you might’ve heard, I pay my debts,” he said.

He gestured to his equipment. “What’s all this for then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I meant what I said: no questions. Let’s go.”

She walked over the bookshelf and pressed the button to make it swing open. Great, Jerome thought. He didn’t know what he expected when she asked him to meet there of all places, but he had hoped going down into the tunnels wasn’t on the agenda.

There was still time to escape. But at what cost? If he ran now, Nina would undoubtedly spill the details of his humiliating Valentine’s “no questions asked.” He really couldn’t live with that. He sucked it up and followed her inside.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:15pm.

Down in the tunnels, it was worse than Jerome remembered. Granted, the only time he’d ever been down there was when he was running for his life, so he hadn’t taken his time to peruse.

It was also freezing. He rubbed his arms as he trailed behind Nina, wondering how she wasn’t shivering.

It was true what everyone said about her; she really was unphased by stuff like this: subterranean tunnels, deadly tasks, et cetera. She’d changed since last year. She was always a bit of a daredevil, but he remembered her in the history classroom, shaking with fear, tearful at the thought of their teachers tipping the scales.

Now though, she walked past chilling stone rooms haunted by the ghosts of deadly tasks completely steady, jaded even. Speaking of ghosts, from the rumours Jerome heard, Nina spoke to spirits regularly, like it was normal. She kind of terrified him.

He was really scared of whatever she was leading him to. After all, they didn’t have the best track record in their relationship. He’d betrayed her when her life was at stake, not once, but two times. Granted, both times he didn’t know her life was at stake, but it didn’t make it any better really. Plus, Nina notoriously held grudges. He just hoped she wasn’t leading him to his doom.

“Okay, here it is,” she said finally.

She stopped in front of a dusty trap door. It looked like an ancient air vent. Jerome looked around; this couldn’t be what she meant.

She opened the hatch door and crouched down. Jerome peaked inside. It was pitch dark. He switched on the headlamp and shined it inside.

“Oh god…” he said. Behind the door was a long, dark, dusty tunnel that, for all he knew, led straight to the depths of hell. In the quiet between each of their breaths, he could hear a distant, dull roar coming from inside.

Nina tied her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, I need the stuff you brought,” she said, holding out her hand. She strapped the headlamp to her forehead, tucked the trowel into her back pocket, and put the headphones around her neck.

“If you hear me screaming, don’t panic,” she said – easily the most alarming thing anyone had ever said to him. “I won’t really be in danger. The only time you’re allowed to come in and help me, is if you see the walls collapsing.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jerome said. “This is insane! What the hell are you doing in there?”

“You’re on a strictly need-to-know basis,” Nina said. He dropped it. He knew no amount of questioning would make her budge.

He also knew something else: if he left right now and refused to help, she would 100% do whatever it is she’s doing on her own. That was how they were the same; they were both stubborn, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. The least he could do was stay there and make sure she didn’t self-destruct.

“Fine,” he said. He had so many bad feelings about this — about why they were here in the dead of night, about why she asked him of all people, about what was in that tunnel, and about what the hell she had in that satchel.

As she steeled herself to enter, he got his answer to the last question. The flap of her bag shifted and Jerome spotted an unmistakable flash of gold. The Cup of Ankh.

His eyes went wide. Before he could say anything, she put on the headphones and disappeared into the tunnel.

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The Tunnels, 11:30pm.

It was agonizing waiting for Nina to reappear. He only brought one headlamp, so he sat in the dark of the tunnels, listening to the wind pass through and rustle the dead ivy twigs and leaves on the ground.

He didn’t hear anything in the tunnel once Nina entered. He watched her crawl in, the headlamp casting eerie, moving shadows on the dirt of the cave. But eventually, Nina and her light disappeared.

His ears had never been more peeled as he listened for any sign of struggle or danger. He had no idea what she meant when she said he might hear her scream. Did she mean in pain? In fear? It didn’t even matter because she told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t know if he could do that.

For now, he listened for signs of rubble falling. What would he do if it collapsed? If she was buried alive? He shuddered. Being buried alive sounded almost as bad as his worst fear. Almost.

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. He got up to pace and walk it off.

He looked to his left and saw a long stone beam stretched over a dark pit. Light streamed in from the moon through a grate in the ceiling. He peered into the pit, but it descended into darkness. He kicked a pebble into it. He didn’t hear a sound until nearly a minute later.

“What the hell is this place?” Jerome whispered. Not only was it architecturally impossible, but it was also clearly full of horrors and death traps. No wonder the Scooby gang wasn’t afraid of his ghost stories anymore.

He kicked another rock into the pit, but while he was waiting for the drop, he heard a noise from in the tunnel. It was a distant whimper — Nina. He paused, listening for another noise.

“Ahhhh!!” Nina shrieked.

Jerome ran to the tunnel. “Nina?” he shouted. “Hello!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t scream again.

He knew what she told him. Stay there, don’t react, it’s fine. He knew something else though: she was stupidly reckless. His heart was pounding. For all he knew, she could be dying in there, all alone, and he was doing nothing.

It was normally his M.O. to stand by, let other people deal with their problems while he dealt with his. He did that all year. He saw his friends sneaking out at night, jumping at the slightest noise, clutching burning brand marks, turning pale at the dinner table — and he ignored it. Not this time.

He pushed up his sleeves, steeled himself, and crawled into the darkness.

He couldn’t see anything at all, it was totally dark, but he crawled forward. “Nina!” he called. “I’m coming to find you. And this is the worst ‘no questions asked’ ever!”

She didn’t respond. He listened hard, but he couldn’t hear her screaming. He couldn’t even hear her telling him off for coming in. Instead, he heard dripping. He crawled forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip. He followed the noise. It was all he had to go off of. He still couldn’t see Nina or her headlamp.

The drip sped up to a steady stream. He heard a babble, like the sound of a tiny stream. Where the hell is water coming from, he thought.

“Nina?” he shouted. “What the hell!” Jerome’s hand sunk into a puddle. When he pulled it out, it was covered in slippery mud. He wished he could see. He kept crawling against his better judgment, but then he felt it: water rising.

All around him, he felt freezing water seep out of the ground. A moment later, he felt a drip from above. “What…” He stopped in his tracks. The water was rising. Panic set in.

He was petrified. He didn’t know whether to turn around or find Nina. The water started to pour in heavy streams from the top of the tunnel. It soaked his hair and his clothes. It was freezing cold.

“Nina!” he shouted desperately. Please let this be a dream, he thought. “Nina!”

He pushed his hair out of his eyes but it did nothing because he couldn’t even see. His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered when this fear started — the day at the beach, his first time at the coast. He nearly died. Alone. This time he wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch the current to shore.

He spit out water and coughed. He sat back onto his heels. The water was at his waist. “Nina!!”

Then he heard her, her voice like a dual-edged sword: sharp on one side and terrified on the other. “Jerome! What are you doing? I told you to stay —” She was cut off by a rush of water from the ceiling. It splashed into their faces.

He couldn’t see her at all, but when the water drained from his ears, he could hear her choke and cough.

“We have to get out!” she yelled. Another rush of water descended on them. Jerome tilted his chin toward the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to put his face underwater. It terrified him.

A horrible rumble moved through the tunnel. All of a sudden, Nina’s headlamp glitched back to life. She was right beside him, soaking wet and squinting in the light. The water was murky brown and nearly a meter deep. Jerome was petrified.

Nina, however, shouted, “Let’s go!” She started paddling toward the entrance. Jerome couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” he shouted, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble again and a huge wave of water descended on him from the back of the cave.

It was so powerful that it pushed him and Nina back. He knocked into the walls of the cave and flipped onto his back as the wave shoved him. He was completely disoriented, flipping back and forth, hitting the floor, suffocating from the lack of oxygen, until finally the wave dumped them out in a heap onto the cold concrete floor of the tunnels. Water flooded out in waves behind them.

Jerome kneeled on the ground, choking and gasping. His heart pounded. His skin was frozen.

“What the hell?” he shouted when he caught his breath. His vocal cords were wrecked.

He looked up at Nina. She kneeled in a heap on the ground, coughing up water. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to go in there,” she said.

Jerome laid down on the cold floor. He heard the roar of crashing waves, all in his memories.

____________________________________________

The Grounds, 11:50pm.

They walked back to Anubis in silence. With every step, their shoes squeaked and squelched with water. Jerome was freezing. He looked over at Nina; she was shaking. It reminded him of that night in the history classroom. He noticed her satchel was now empty.

“Answers, now,” Jerome said.

Nina sighed, but she didn’t argue. “I had to bury something down there,” she said.

“The Cup,” he said. Nina stared at him. “I saw it in your bag.” He didn’t ask how it survived the furnace.

“Then you can understand why it needed to be hidden somewhere no one would ever go looking for it,” she said. “The tunnel was part of the tasks. It shows you your worst fear.”

“No kidding,” Jerome scoffed. He looked at her, but she stared off into the distance. He couldn’t help it; he wondered what the hell she saw in there. He didn’t ask.

“I asked you to come because no one in Sibuna would have let me do what I just did.”

“For once I agree with them,” he said.

“Well, I had it handled,” she said. “I’d done it before, so I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, until we almost drowned,” he stressed. Just saying the word struck fear in his heart. His skin froze all over again.

“That’s why I said to stay where you were,” she said. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in that.” She ran a hand through her soaked hair and sighed. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

Jerome nodded, his version of accepting an apology.

Nina half-grinned. “Trust me, I really thought you’d be the one person on earth who would actually mind your business when I told you to,” she joked.

He cracked a smile. “Trust me, normally I would have.” But when he thought about it, he’d stuck his neck out for her kind of a lot. He realized with a shock that she had done the same for him, and she probably would again if given the choice.

“Well, Martin, after tonight I believe you owe me at least three ‘no questions asked,’” he said. She probably owed him a couple hundred actually, but he was feeling generous.

She sighed. “That’s fair,” she said.

They reached Anubis finally. They ditched their soaking shoes and socks outside and snuck in the house. Jerome shuffled off to his room, eager to rid himself of his soaking clothes and the memory of this night forever, but Nina stopped him.

“Jerome,” she whispered. He squinted at her through the darkness. “Thanks.”

“You live a weird life, Martin,” he said, his way of saying “you’re welcome.” She was the most reckless person he has ever met, but he had to admit, she had guts.

That was how Jerome learned to never request a favor from Nina Martin ever again, no matter how many embarrassing things he did on Valentine’s Day.

____________________________________________

Valentine’s Day, 2011 (one year ago).

Nina knocked on Mara and Patricia’s bedroom door, staring at the text she got from Jerome.

A second later, Jerome opened the door and stepped outside, looking panicked.

“What the hell is a ‘no questions asked?’” she asked.

“No questions!” he whisper-shouted. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room.

The room was covered in pink frills, plush stuffed animals, glitter, and red hearts. A string quartet sat on Patricia’s bed. When they saw Nina, they readied their instruments and started to play.

“NO!” Jerome shouted, more desperate than angry. “It’s not her.” He turned to Nina, “Help me get rid of it!” he pleaded.

Nina’s jaw was on the floor. “What the…”

“No. Questions. Asked,” Jerome hissed.

#lol sorry for the angst in there #that always happens #i wasnt sure i wanted jerome to go in the tunnel but i really wanted to explore my hc for his phobia #sorry to this man #he should know better than to get mixed up with nina #especially after 10pm #those are her feral hours #jerome clarke #nina martin #house of anubis #hoa ask #thanks for the ask!#hoa fanfic

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goodbysunball · 1 year

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1/4 Dead In 2023

It's a really bad time to try and cut back on buying music; here's four reasons why, and I've still got another eight or so waiting in the wings. Suck on these chicken wings like Steve Buscemi in Ghost World and I'll bring you another basket when you think you're through.

Cheater Slicks, Ill-Fated Cusses (In the Red)

The world's greatest active rock 'n roll band is back with their first studio LP in 11 years. Cheater Slicks could have very easily hung it up by now, especially following the tragic death of drummer Dana Hatch's son, but some mysterious impulse keeps the brothers Shannon and Dana Hatch (joined here by James Arthur on bass) churning after all these years. There are no other bands that can play garage rock with the abandon that Cheater Slicks seem to nail album after album, and their return to In the Red is possibly their best yet. The comfortable intro to "The Nude Intruder" soon picks up speed and careens headfirst into some solos that are the best I've heard since maybe Mordecai's College Rock. From there the band proceeds to lean heavily into guitar worship, sounding as paranoid and grimy as ever, barely-controlled outbursts of scuzz drenching "Fear" and "Flummoxed by the Snafu." Where previous albums seemed to opt for a sort of ballad to close each side, the band decides to try out "Lichen" to end side one, a feedback-laden stumble through the wake of "The Gift" but even more seasick and desperate. The band's hardly left behind the ballads from albums past; "Garden of Memories" and "Far Away Distantly" are gruff and affecting like the best of the Slicks' quieter moments. My favorite track here is "Coming Back to Me," which oscillates from Hatch's pounding drums and foam-mouthed shouts to zen-like group vocals repeating the title, and erupts in a ferocious guitar solo. It's songs like "Coming Back to Me" that show why Cheater Slicks have single-handedly rejuvenated garage rock and stand alone at the top of the heap. In a time where I've been leaning toward more abstract and indecipherable sounds, it feels really good to be leveled by a no frills rock 'n roll album, something familiar but wholly fresh, without pretension and effortlessly memorable. Cheater Slicks, now and forever. Highest recommendation; get yourself a copy post-haste, and maybe go see 'em blow the younger acts off the stage in a rare live appearance at Gonerfest this year.

Equipment Pointed Ankh, From Inside the House (Bruit Direct Disques)

The latest and greatest from this loose Louisville, KY collective, bringing some welcome cohesion to their brand of off-kilter omnivorous rock deconstruction. I've always found Equipment Pointed Ankh interesting, spiritually akin to fellow Kentuckians Sapat, but their albums can feel cluttered and overlong; on Without Human Permission, something like "Blue Folding Room" bowls me over, but then I've traversed so far by the end of side one that I'm disoriented and exhausted. Could have been a case of too many cooks/too many ideas, but whatever it was has been ironed out on From Inside the House, brought to us by the fine tastemakers at Bruit Direct Disques. "Rubber Slacks" snaps into gear at the front, but the song devolves into a noisy coda, feedback and droning synths fighting to wrest control of the song from the rhythmic backbone. What felt like genre-hopping exercises on previous records has coalesced into a no less confusing but exhilarating whole; off-kilter tunefulness emerges from rudimentary drumbeats, drone and jazz coexist with minimalist beats and modern classical. What emerges from the speakers isn't really as heady as that sounds, though: From Inside the House fits easily as background music and rewards close listening alike through it's rich, full production. The highlight for me is the drumless, airy seven-minute title track, which coupled with Jenny Rose's spoken lyrics brings to mind Cosey Fanni Tutti's "Time to Tell." It's a surprisingly arresting, moving track from a collective that seems mostly hellbent on upending genre distinctions with a permanent smirk. "I'm looking for something else," Rose says, and across seven tracks and 35 minutes, it sounds like EPA's found it on From Inside the House, a surprising early favorite record of 2023. Buy not only for the music, but the screenprinted jacket and Bill Nace artwork, too. Another left-of-center gem from Bruit Direct Disques.

Ustalost, Before the Glinting Spell Unvests (Gilead Media)

This was technically released at the tail-end of 2021, but I've only received my copy of the LP this month, and it's one well worth a year's patience. Ustalost is a side project from the Will Skarstad, one of the brothers behind Yellow Eyes, but there's not much to differentiate the two projects. It's nominally Will Skarstad's solo compositional outlet, though his brother, Sam, gets credits for the lyrics and production. The release, Ustalost's second, states that the project "has always been an exercise in indulgence," and that's probably as good of a descriptor as you're gonna get; it's black metal drizzled with the Skarstads' slowly twinkling guitar lines, drenched in Gregorian chant, keyboards and synthesizers straight out of the first wave of funeral doom (Thergothon comes to mind). I never much cared for keyboards in metal, but they're worked in nicely here: something like the jittery line at the start of "White Marble Column Air" adds to disorienting effect rather than distracts. The bass and drums are up front in the mix, this anchor allowing the record to violently lob between sickly sweetness and pummeling madness, something the opener "Enough Glass Will Cast a Shadow" deftly displays. Before the Glinting Spell Unvests, like The Spoor of Vipers before it, feels as approachable and lush as black metal could be while maintaining the icy, sharp aggression of the best Scandinavian forebears. It's a credit to the songwriting of Will Skarstad to maintain that delicate balance without succumbing to cheesy fist-pumping choruses or invoking war as a crutch; the psychedelic psychosis and decadence are vivid enough to warp one's reality. Fantastic record, one that pushes the envelope in exciting new ways without concessions. Let's hope there's not another seven-year wait for the next one.

Witness K, s/t (ever/never)

Cured Pink, one of several projects from Andrew McLellan, was and probably remains one of the most difficult and misunderstood bands from the contemporary Australian underground. The project's new/no wave laced with sharp commentary and wry humor is admittedly a tough sell, but a deep dive into their catalog, especially their LPs, is a worthwhile endeavor. Seems that McLellan may have retired the Cured Pink name for now, shifting to the gravely serious Witness K, pairing up again with NYC's ever/never records to once more challenge even the most seasoned listeners. On the self-titled debut, the band displays stunning restraint, creating a dour atmosphere befitting Carla dal Forno or Tindersticks. Vocals are hushed and often spoken, and even leaning in closely doesn't really allow me to crack the meaning of it all. The lyrics, or "poetry" as the credits on the release state, are obscured beneath a lush bed of single chord guitars, flute, accordion and a smattering of keys, and feels like the soundtrack to a Kurosawa film or dimly lit noir story bathed in shadows. It's a record that seeps into and takes control of the room, arresting even in its silences, moving carefully and speaking thoughtfully. I'm reminded, in spirit at least, of the Gerogerigegege's left-turn >(decrescendo) or the American Jobs' overlooked Carne Levare, music wielding a quiet power. But Witness K never feels fragile despite sounding gossamer-thin at points; the bass-rich production keeps things sturdy and churning, as on album highlights "Scream Across the Low Fence" and "Thank You, Harold." Notes linger in the air, billowing smoke refracted in late-day sunlight, sunlight that can't be enjoyed because of yet another man-made environmental disaster. Whatever's happening, it's grim. Witness K have made a record acknowledging native land that seems like it could actually do something about it, not just paying lip service to a complicated issue. Stunning, brilliant record; Witness K feels like a modern classic already. Between this and last year's Kilynn Lunsford LP, ever/never's swinging for the fences. Time to break out the binoculars and pay attention while this seasoned vet serves up taters at the dish.

#Cheater Slicks #Equipment Pointed Ankh #Ustalost #Witness K #In the Red Records #Bruit Direct Disques #Gilead Media #ever/never records

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dustedmagazine · 5 months

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Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band — Sing Dancing on the Edge (Sophomore Lounge)

Ryan Davis is an intricate wordsmith, backed by a crack band of country-fried weirdos who pull a second shift as the Krautish puzzle palace oddities of Equipment Pointed Ankh. Here on his first album under his own name (he recorded in the previous decade as the much beloved State Champion), Davis dives deep into rustic psychedelia, spinning out home-cooked surrealities to rickety Casio beats and stretching mournful twanging absurdist poetry to epic length. Lately named to Pitchfork’s 37 best rock albums, Sing Dancing is really a country album, though in the skewed, knotty way of David Berman.

In the live setting, Davis seems to be betting hard on his shorter, more conventionally shaped material, the yelping, gulping, yodeling, burnt romantic “Learn 2 Re-Luv” and the graceful reprise “Bluebirds Revisited,” and indeed both are startling, thought provoking pieces of work. But if you want to get right to the heart of what makes this album amazing, head for the ten-minute epic head-trip “Flashes of Orange.” Like the other cuts, it dredges the depths of emotional experience, the blackest, bleariest dead of night vision (“there’s a black space between the back of my head and the back of my face”). It’s so dark, indeed, that Davis hallucinates color in it, “knocks of red,” “flashes of orange.” The cut seethes with emotive pedal steel, one of music’s most reliable indicators of angst, but it also rears up into something like rock triumph in the climactic chorus “I have these dreams we’re hitting the road again/But i always wake when the engine roars.”

That’s the song where Davis and his mates open up the throttle musically, but if I had to pick a favorite for lyrics, it would be “Junk Drawer Heart.” Here’s him catching the female protagonist in a life drawn sketch: “Her daddy was a hypnotist/Her mother was a metronome/Her mortal coil is not so much a curse/As it is a stepping stone.” The junk drawer becomes a capacious metaphor for memory and identity, with bits of treasure mixed in with useless junk. “She knows there’s something of use deep down/In a rare coin corner of her junk drawer heart,” sings Ryan nailing the mixed bag that human beings are in a couplet.

The band is excellent and even more so live where Davis trades in ricky-tick drum machines for a full kit, and the songs so rich with musical and lyrical ideas that it takes a while to bring them into focus. Spend the time, though, and this album is a universe, harsh and shadowy but shot through with beauty.

Jennifer Kelly

#ryan davis #the roadhouse band #sing dancing on the edge #sophomore lounge #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #countrypolitan #david berman #silver jews #equipment pointed ankh #state champion

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oh-no-a-whovian · 3 years

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Like real people do pt 2

Boba Fett X daughter reader. Din Djarin x Fett! Reader

Summary: [Y/N] Fett is ready to inherit her father’s armour. He just has to help a Mandalorian and his son first. A Mandalorian you feel an immediate connection with.

Warnings: none?

Word count: 1544

Links: masterlist

You groan and bite your lip as pain surges through your side, pulling you from sleep. The smell of hygiene equipment and sterile surfaces fills your nose as you fight the stark white lights to open your eyes.

“Your father isn’t very happy with you.” a deep voice sounds to your right and you freeze, racking your mind trying to remember who it is. Forcing your eyes open at last, the bright lights hurt your eyes as they reflect off the man’s shiny armour as he sits relaxed on the seat beside you.

“No, he wouldn’t be” you huff out a pained laugh, wincing and clasping your side as the wound seems to burn. “First time he begrudgingly lets me join and I get stabbed”

“Thank you”

“For what? Getting stabbed?” you groan as you try to sit up. Swiftly the Mandalorian is by your side, helping you move and shoving pillows behind you.

“For trying. You almost died trying to help and… I’m… grateful” he says as he sits back down. You simply nod as you nestle into your new position.

“I’m guessing we didn’t have enough bacta?” you ask as you eye the bloody bandage on your side.

“No, there was enough. It was a deep wound, even bacta can’t heal that instantly.”

“I’m sorry I lost the kid” you say as you stare into the visor of his helm. “I tried but… I doubt even my father could have handled four specialty battle droids” he nods solemnly as he leans back into the chair, his visor still locked on you. “We’re in hyperspace right? Where we headed?” you ask as you notice the familiar buzz through the ship.

“Nevarro. I have a friend who can help us find the people who took Grogu.” He says looking over as Fennec enters with a tray of food for you. “Will take us a few days to get there though”

“His name’s Grogu?” you smile, never looking away from the man in beskar, you only have eyes for him right now. Even as Fennec places your tray down. “Do you have a name?” you smirk as you gently lean towards him, grabbing a wafer from the tray without even looking.

“Not sure your father would approve of you flirting with the Mandalorian [Y/N]” Fennec huffs in amusement. Gently she moves the blanket and pulls off the bandage, checking the progress on the wound.

“If you’re trying to embarrass me, it’s not gonna work” you grin, point a finger at her as you crunch into the wafer. “So? Name?”

“Din” he replies and you hear a huff of amusement through his vocoder.

“Din” you grin “it’s nice to meet you. I promise we’ll get your kid back.”

“Good to see you up” your father says behind you making you stand up straight in front of the mirror. You turn when you realise what he’s wearing from the reflection. The armour is scraped up, patches of silver beskar shining through the chipped green and red paints. A huge dint sits above the left eye and an antenna rises above the right side of the head. It’s so similar to Din’s but so uniquely Fett. “You had me worried sick [Y/N]”

“I know daddy” you sigh, looking down feeling shame.

“I didn’t argue. I let you out of the ship, and you almost die.” He says as he pulls off his helmet dumps it on the bed and within just a few steps, is pulling you into his arms. It’s uncomfortable compared to what you’re used to, the beskar doing its job. Making a hardened exterior.

“I’m okay daddy. I promise.”

“I’ll fix the armour up for you, make sure it never happens again” you can hear the worry in his voice as he tries not to crush you in his arms. You know you’re all he has apart from this ship and although he’s a hardened bounty hunter, you know that if he lost you it would kill him.

“My side is almost healed” you mention as you pull away, grabbing your necklace from beside the sink. “Should be good to go before we even reach Nevarro” you see him tense when he realises you’re saying you’re ready to try again but he says nothing just nods. You know he hates it but surely e knows he can’t keep you hidden from the dangers of the galaxy forever.

“Guess I’ll have to get to work on the armour then” he sighs, grabbing the helm from the bed.

“Thank you daddy” you smile, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Should you really be doing that?” you hear the Mandalorian ask from the doorway as you do pull ups in your room.

“Probably not but I feel fine” you huff as you pull yourself up, hold, then drop.

“Nice necklace” he comments and you smirk as you approach him. Your necklace sits practically in your cleavage that is very on display. “What’s the symbol?”

“Thanks, I’m not sure actually. It’s from a market in the colonies near the centre of the galaxy. Apparently the merchant got it from a planet called Earth on the un-charted side of the galaxy. Apparently it’s called an ankh.”

“It’s… interesting.”

“Was there a reason you came to find me?” you ask as you pour yourself a glass of spotchka from your hidden stash. Your father would be none too pleased to find you’re hiding this stuff.

“Uh… no… I was just walking by. Was clearing my head. Not used to not being the pilot.”

“Mmm, well feel free to use the exercise equipment in my room” you offer gesturing around to the stuff behind you. “I definitely won’t mind the show” you wink as you recline back against the head of the bed. You hear his modulator try to hide his small laugh, a smile spread to your cheeks at the sound. You wish you knew what he looked like, could see what his smile is like.

“Maybe some other time. Like Fennec said earlier not sure your father would approve” he echoes in amusement. You eye him up and down, tilting your head as you watch him hover by the door way, not seeming to want to leave.

“You’re probably right. Feel free to have a seat” you hum, gesturing to the space beside you. he hesitates for a second, looking between the door and your prone form. Eventually he gives in, taking up the space beside you. His position is stiff, laying as if he wants to relax but also ready to bolt from the room. “You’re trying to distract yourself aren’t you?” you ask as you turn onto your side to look at him better. “Your head is running through the thousand things they could be doing and you have no idea what to do for the two days it’s gonna take just to get to Nevarro”

“You know the helmet is supposed to make it so you can’t read what I’m feeling… among other things.” He deflects, keeping his visor staring straight at the stark silver ceiling, almost as bright as his helm.

“He’s going to be fine.” You say quietly as you lay the rest of the way down, placing a hand gently on his bicep. You feel him tense more, if that’s even possible, but eventually he relaxes, the tension filling his body seeping away. “You’ll see him again and he will be so happy to be in the safety you will make for him. He’ll be so happy to be with you again”

“Don’t know about how safe it is for him to be with me. I lost him.”

“I lost him. You can only say you lost him if you were the one stabbed by a massive robot.” You tease, making him finally look at you. “You feel it right? Even with all the worry, you know he’s ok.” Slowly he nods, the motion practically unnoticeable because of the full get up. “Hold onto that feeling and it will give you the strength you need.”

For a while you felt his eyes on you as you kept yours closed beside him. It’s like this weight, a buzz under your skin and in your mind. A feeling that makes you want to move the helmet just to check. But instead you lie still until you feel the buzz leave and his breathing even out into soft breaths. You almost want to touch him, place a hand on his chest and feel the fall and rise, but you keep your hand where it is, on the cloth on his bicep. Opening your eyes, you stare at the metal clad man in front of you and smile. The moment quickly diminishing when there’s a knock at your door way.

“Your father wants you so he can make sure he edits the armour shape properly.” Fennec says, keeping her voice low as if she knows the man beside you is asleep. With a small nod, gentle movements and a glance back at the man in your bed, you follow her out. You can’t help but think though how well he fits in your space. You don’t know why but you really like that he does.

Tags: @yamaktaria @rand0m--fangirl @salty-sith-bitch @periwinklehoney @itsroguelife @rogueheretic555

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #boba fett x reader #boba fett #mandalorian x reader

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still-single · 4 months

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HEATHEN DISCO BEST OF 2023 SHOWS

They're in the can, check 'em out.

For those still wondering, the Ryan Davis record is the best release of 2023.

Set 1: Reissues/Archival + 20 Tracks from 2023

Arthur Russell – In the Light of a Miracle

Dorothy Carter – Autumn Song

Laurie Styvers – Imagine the Lights Have Gone Out

PG Six – Unteleported Man

Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 – Flames Up Yours

The Dark – Resurrection

Fury – Circle of Lies

INU – Don’t Eat Food!

Las Mordidas – Surrounded

Spike in Vain – Opus I & II

Africa Corps (Savage Republic) – Real Men (live)

Sonic Youth – I Love Her All the Time (live)

Masayuki Takayanagi – Mass Hysterism Part II

Milford Graves with Hugh Glover – March 11, 1976 III

Les Rallizes Denudes – Eternally Now (live CITTA ’93)

Maxx Traxx – Reachin’ For It

High Rise – Sadducces Faith

Wolf Eyes W/ Spykes – 4

Tolerance – Sacrifice

Shizuka – 6 Gram Star

Rubber Blanket – Gandy Dancer

Khanate – It Wants to Fly (excerpt)

S*GLASS – Sorry About the False Bounce

Föllakzoid – V-III

Monocot – The Voice Came

Daniel Villarreal – Chicali Outpost

Equipment Pointed Ankh – Late Night A.I.

Witness K – How Do We Count Your Poses

Coffin Prick – Town Without Pity 2

Olimpia Splendid – Jacksonin Paita

Terry – Jane Roe

Nusidm – Arm Unemployed

Dippers – Encouragement in Brackets

Guardian Singles – Com Trans

Civic – Born in the Heat

Married FM – I’m Gonna Find It

Connections – Bird Has Flown

Son of Dribble – Shed

The Serfs – Club Deuce

Corker – Edge of Teeth

Set 2: 39 Songs from 2023

Stella Kola – November

Wheatie Mattiasch – Not the Angels

Maxine Funke – River Said

Suishou no Fune – A Rainbow Is Floating

Jana Horn – Love in Return

V.I.P.P. – Dancing

Famous Mammals – Like a Shadow

Non Plus Temps – Hide Away

Now – Rattray

Spiral Dub – High as Fuck

Violent Change – Whipping Boy

Disintegration – Time Moves for Me

Home Front – Nation

Lifeguard – Alarm

The Toads – Nationalsville

Ulrika Spacek - Diskbänksrealism

Retirement – No Refund

Mother’s Milk – Xerox Cloak

Glittering Insects – Remote Viewed Orgasm

FACS – Class Spectre

Skull Practitioners – Intruder

Los Mundos – Luz Perversa (en vivo)

Cheater Slicks – Fear

Emily Robb – Solo in A

The Sundae Painters – Thin Air

Animal Piss, It’s Everywhere – Pink Dolphin

Sparks – Nothing Is As Good As They Say It Is

The Clientele – Garden Eye Mantra

Lewsberg – Debbie

Usurabi – Even If It’s a Lie

Luxor Rentals – A Hallway

Drop Nineteens – T

Melenas – K2

Exek – On the Ground Floor

Silicone Prairie – Mirror on the Wall

Feeling Figures – Movement

The Smashing Times – Tuesday, Coming into Time

Colleen – Les parenthèses enchantées (Movement III)

Jaimie Branch – Take Over the World

Set 3: The Last 41 Best of 2023

Chi To Shizuku – Kawaki

The Lewers – O Karina

The Native Cats – Suplex

Cuticles – Know Not What

En Attendant Ana – Wonder

Tirzah – 2 D I C U V

Seekersinternational – Caught Up (Heart Breaks)

Ron Morelli – Gun Smoke

Leda – 2

Zuli – Bussra

Smirk – Polyrhythmic Ticks

The Dissidents – Patronized

Consensus Madness – Animosity

Stress Positions – Flaming Sword

Life Expectancy – Land Worm

Collate – Guilty Collector

Blue Dolphin – Docile Jannette

Flat Worms – Orion’s Belt

Los Llamarada – Waiting For Your Eyes

Dion Lunadon – Diamond Sea

Natural Information Society – Immemorial

Quade – Measure

The Split Bell Chime – You Can Tell Me Anything

Matmos – Why?

GUB – 4

DJ Manny – Ooh Baby

Tyvek – What It’s For

Gaadge – Candy Colored

Surveillance – Obvious

Miss Espana – Lirio Blanco

Axis: Sova – Join a Cult

Al Karpenter & CIA Debutante – Fuck You All to Fade No More

Beau Wanzer – Warm Waterboarding

Thee Retail Simps – Wrong Direction

Wireheads – Persistent Resistance

Adulkt Life – Blackout

Sharp Pins – Bye Bye Basil

The Tubs – Sniveler

Meg Baird – Star Hill Road

Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band – Flashes of Orange

Water Damage – FUCK THAT (Reel 13)

#heathen disco #best of 2023 #freeform radio #still single #mosurock #chicago #mixcloud

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studentsofdecay · 2 years

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Flanger Magazine - After the Bend

After the Bend by Flanger Magazine

After the Bend is the second album from Louisville based Flanger Magazine, and the follow up to FM’s 2018 debut, Breslin. Whereas Breslin was the solo creation of Christopher Bush, an album noted for “an astute synthesis of ‘library music’ and solo acoustic guitar,” and “a seamless blend into the uncluttered and airier side of classic 1970’s giallo,” After the Bend is an ensemble affair. An ecosystem, a perfect mutualism bodies forth—of strings, outdoor recordings, electronics, reeds, and percussion—featuring new FM players Anna Krippenstapel (Frekons (Freakwater + Mekons), The Other Years), Jim Marlowe (Equipment Pointed Ankh, Tropical Trash, Sapat), Eric Lanham and Benjamin Zoeller (both from Caboladies). The various combos perform with both a distinguished efficacy and unhurried Sunday drift—charged and beautiful, pulsating and pleasing. The production is subtle and tasteful. Mutating past the old saws of bounded individualism, a strange form of tentacular life accrues, cyborgian-fungral-tangles of the more-than-human variety. Robert Beatty’s cover art of otherworldly and interconnected river-scape gradients, coupled with song titles like “Reservoir,” “Falls Fountain Removed,” and “Sympathies for the River,” cue and clue the listener toward a river as a singular multitude analogue for the album. Interstitial gaps, clearings and openings give rise and merge into an accumulated flow from the tributaries of spirited improvisational performance, palimpsestic song cycles, and high fidelity studio production. The composite sound-image of After the Bend refuses to put both oars down into any one of the eddies of the folk, sound, chamber, electronic, or jazz idioms, and instead glides along the currents found within the slipstreams between. Gathering samples, a River Doctor Limnologist inspecting the properties of After the Bend might note the specter of Leroy Jenkin’s free-violin heat-light deepin the water’s thermal stratification. Or mortgage the late-Maestro’s time with Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza to pay down the growing river heat budget. Or take one’s dirty buckets to the banks of the 19th laundromat where Walt Dickerson plays his vibraphone parts from Divine Gemini with dowsing rods. Or excavate the bedrock in the drainage basin, noting skeletal remains of a Shostakovich string quartet attempting to tune up a Kentucky Fiddle’s subsequent influence on the chemical composition of the water. Or consult the historical revisionist reenactment troupe’s episode of Fishing with John (Fahey) in which Codona, The Sea Ensemble and Nuno Canavarro guest host as their fleet of paddle boats churn river water into a regal lager, and all the fish get drunk in their quest for the leaner enamel Hosianna Mantra GPS coordinates of the Fattened Herb. Bush and Marlowe recorded and produced the album at End of an Ear Studios, located in the Portland neighborhood, in the west end of the city of Louisville, bordering the Ohio River, between Kentucky’s Upper South and the Indiana’s Midwest, during the first year of the global pandemic, amidst the planet’s sixth great extinction event. As good a time to be alive as any other -Kris Abplanalp

LP ships on or before 05/12/2022 Forced Exposure (US)ANOST (EU)

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