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poetsofmyheart · 10 months

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my tears ricochet

chapter two. masterlist.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WARNINGS: death, nightmares

WORD COUNT: 2,912

NOTES: anyone wanna be added to a tag list? i’ve gotten a few requests so lmk :)

“what a shame she went mad, you made her like that.” - mad woman, taylor swift

now

the night peter walked me back to my apartment, i couldn’t get a single minute of sleep. my mind raced with thoughts about gwen and harry osborn.

the man who killed gwen was peter’s best friend.

what the fuck?

i couldn’t get it out of my head. the thought played in my mind like a broken vhs tape. stuck on a constant loop with no idea how to fix it. endless questions filled my brain. peters words flooding and repeating over and over.

“he was never caught.”

how does something like that happen? why did he do it? was he trying to get revenge? why gwen?

my mind raced with these questions all night. i ran through all possible answers until finally, at around five in the morning, my mind shut off. though, my peaceful slumber didn’t last long because i began to dream about gwen.

again.

i often dream about what happened the night at the tower. the details of that night have never fully been disclosed unfortunately. i only know part of what happened simply because peter had told me through tears after the incident, when he came in through my window.

although, it doesn’t matter because i only ever dream about the worst part of it all. the part where gwen falls to her death.

these dreams began a few days after her funeral. when the realization of her really being gone had settled.

i dream about her at the top of that tower, holding on to spider-man’s webs. i dream about her calling out for help, calling out to peter. i dream about what she must’ve been feeling moments before hitting the pavement. the fear that loomed over her body like a ghost.

right as gwen is about to let go of peter’s web, i jolt awake. i feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on me.

the time on my desk reads 1:25 pm.

yikes.

i’m not awake for long when the questions that kept me awake for majority of the night come soaring back. i jump up from my bed and go straight for my desk. powering on my computer, i go to the search engine and search harry osborn. i read the top result.

HARRY OSBORN

SON OF NORMAN OSBORN, CEO OF OSCORP INDUSTRIES

oscorp industries sticks out to me. i remember that’s where gwen’s internship was located at. that’s where she used to work. everyday after school, i’d drop her off at oscrop before driving myself to my piano lessons. i’d pick her up after as well and we’d drive home together.

i scroll a little further down and click on the oscorp website. a fuzzy photo of harry loads on to my screen. an i.d. photo perhaps. the photo feels eerie, unsafe. he looks like a normal person.

knowing this perfectly normal looking man was capable of something so horrendous strikes me as bizzare. looking at him makes my blood boil and my vision turn red.

for another hour, i’m left researching harry osborn and oscorp industries. i look for clues that might help me find out what he’s up to these days, where he might be.

as i’m scrolling, i hear a tapping sound come from my window. the familiarity of it sends a wave of electricity through me.

i quickly x out of the tab i’m in and walk over to my window. when i open my curtains, i see a familiar masked hero waving at me. i roll my eyes and lift open the latch. “what do you want? and how’d you know which window was mine?

“i promised i’d tell you everything.” peter says, jumping into my room and ignoring the second part of my question. he takes a look around my room, which is currently a mess.

clothes scatter my floor. bras, panties, sleep shirts, and all of the above. old piano sheet music and coffee cups litter every corner, and my bed is unmade, the sheets hanging off to the side. i kick some undergarments under my bed before he can see them.

his eyes land on my closet. my closet is wide open, the photos i hung on the door forever ago are on full display. he walks over to my photo wall and his eyes linger on a specific polaroid of me and gwen.

the photo was taken at prom. me and gwen are holding each other close, gwen pressing a chaste kiss on my cheek while i smile widely at the camera. the memory feels distant, but not forgotten.

peter chuckles softly to himself. “feels like a lifetime ago.” he murmurs. his gloved finger traces over gwen’s face, then over mine.

i’m relived i can’t see his face. i’d pain me to see the heartbreak and anguish that’s most likely written all over his expression, threatening to spill over.

a few seconds pass by in silence before i clear my throat. peter turns around fast, almost like he’s forgotten he was in my room. “sorry.” he pulls of his mask, a sheepish smile plastered on his face.

he glances around my room a little longer, admiring some of the band posters on my wall. he’s about to go over to my computer when i remember my researching from just moments earlier. i manage to beat him to it and shut it off before the tabs can reopen.

peter is like an unattended child. he runs around, grabbing and inspecting everything he sees like a kid in a candy shop. not a single care in the world.

i’m closing my computer when i notice he’s gone.

then i hear the piano.

“seriously, peter?” he’s sitting at my piano which is placed directly in front of my couch, where a tv would normal sit.

“you still play?” he presses a few random keys, creating a cacophony of noise. the sound reverberates throughout my apartment. “yeah.” my response holds a hint of annoyance.

peter is well aware of my love for piano. in high school, gwen would drag peter to some of my concerts. it would come up in our conversations often as well. he’d talk about his love for photography while i talked about my love for piano.

i cringe as he continues to hit random notes. he drags his fingers up and down the keyboard then repeatedly hits the same key over and over again, smirking as he does. “jesus, can you stop that?” i make him scoot over so i’d have space to sit on the bench.

he reaches for my sheet music. “hmm,” he rifles through the slightly crumpled sheets. “fantasie?” my eyes widen and i rip the papers out of his grasp. “don’t touch that!” i reorganize the papers and put them back on my stand. i’m worried he’ll recognize the song.

“geez, sorry.” he holds his hands up in surrender, a sign he might not have noticed. he stands up from his spot on the bench and sits on the couch.

“play me something.”

“no.”

“why not?”

“because.”

“because why?” he raises a brow.

“because i don’t want to.”

“what about your audition. don’t you think you should practice with an audience?” it takes him a second to realize what he’s just said. his cheeks redden.

it takes me a minute to fully grasp on to what he said. “were you… spying on me yesterday?” my eyes narrow at him suspiciously.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his i’m very familiar with. “i may or many not have accidentally overheard.” he admits.

“creeper.”

i try to hide my smile by looking down at the keyboard. i play a few random notes. mine are subtle and soft unlike peter’s obnoxious ones. they echo beautifully.

we’re quiet for a moment as we listen.

“okay, how about this.” peter says, sitting up straight. i look up at him. “how about you play me a song and i’ll tell you everything you want to know about gwen and harry.”

“or,” i stop playing. “you tell me everything i want to know, and then maybe,” i grin as i drag out the last word. “maybe i’ll play you a song.”

peter groans.

“hey, there was no specification about a song!” peter laughs, but it simmers away just as quickly as it appeared, his face becoming serious when he remembers why he’s at my apartment in the first place. “i’m sorry.” he says, frowning.

my smile fades.

“i’m sorry for not telling you anything about what happened. i just-” he shakes his head. “with everything going on and what happened to gwen, i couldn’t risk losing you too.”

something that hangs loosely in my chest tightens.

“gwen died because she knew too much about me. i couldn’t get you killed too. you knowing i’m spider-man is enough to put you in danger.”

“so, you kept me in the dark.”

peter nods. “that night, i tried so hard to keep gwen away.” he let’s out a humorless laugh as he recalls the tragic event. “for gods sake, i even webbed her to a car.”

as peter continues talking, i realize i’ve begun moving my fingers to the rhythm of fantasie.

one thing i’ve started doing to cope with gwen’s loss was of course piano, but when i’m away from the piano and need something to ease my mind, i move my fingers to the rhythm of the song.

“what about harry osborn? why’d he kill gwen?” i’m barely able to get the words out due to my throat tightening. i can’t bare to meet his gaze, so i continue to play with my hands. if peter notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“harry was sick. he developed an illness, the very same illness that killed his father. it was hereditary. he became this sick monster, he almost didn’t look like himself. everyone on the case calls him ‘the green goblin.’ he believed spiderman’s blood could cure him. i refused to give him blood, and when he found out i was spider-man, he used gwen as a way to get revenge on me.”

my suspicions from last night had been correct. it was revenge on peter.

gwen was the one who had to suffer the consequences.

“he took her and dropped her and i didn’t reach her on time.” peter’s eyes glaze over.

the full weight of what really happened to gwen lands on me harshly. the tears i tried so hard to push back fall freely down my cheeks and soon enough, peter’s words become overshadowed by the sound of fantasie. my need to block out the truth causes my fingers move against the keys the way i’ve grown to love. i forget about peter’s presence and for just a few minutes, it’s just me.

and gwen.

once i’m finished, i keep my eyes trained on the keyboard. and then i remember peter.

“whoa,” is all he says.

“i’m sorry.” i try to laugh off my embarrassment. my voice sounds nasally from the crying. peter’s intense gaze makes it all the more harder to recover from my outburst. “it’s just a thing i do. this was gwen’s favorite song on the piano and i can’t help but move my fingers to the rhythm when i think about her.”

peter looks caught off guard, but not from my sudden playing, but from the sudden tears on my face. before he can comment on it i ask, “so what are you going to do?”

peter’s concerned eyes turn confused. “about what?”

“how are you going to find harry osborn?”

“i’ve been trying to find him for the past two years.”

“and you haven’t found him yet?”

“i don’t need your help, if that’s what you’re implying.” peter stands up from his position on the couch, all softness gone and starts making his way back to my room. i follow behind him and scoff.

“yes, you clearly do. it’s been two years. don’t think it’s about time you had some help?” peter ignores me and pulls on his mask. he climbs through my window, turns to me and says, “i’m not going to put you in danger the same way i did to gwen.”

then he’s gone.

—

a few days go by before i see peter again. except this time, i pay him a visit.

trying to get in contact with peter was a lot harder than it seemed. at some point in the last two years he’s changed his phone number, the one in my phone outdated.

i am also not in contact with any of my high school peers so there is no way for me to ask around for his number.

so i do what i do best.

i google him.

it doesn’t take me long to find peter because he’s the first result among the other one million peter parkers.

he’s a well accomplished photographer for the daily bugle. according to google, his most recent work consists of spider-man photographs.

shocker.

unfortunately, the daily bugle does not share insiders phone numbers which means i still have no way of contacting peter.

this left me with one option left.

i go to the daily bugle myself.

having been to the daily bugle myself before (for a high school field trip weirdly enough), i’m already well aware that visitors, aside from family, are not allowed into the building.

so i pretend to be peter’s wife.

before i reach the daily bugle, i make a quick stop at the deli near by. i order a sandwich, which i use as a prop. my excuse being that peter forgot his lunch.

“mrs. parker, wife of peter parker.” i say to the woman at the front desk. she eyes me suspiciously for a minute then nods. “third floor.” she says, and hands me a visitors badge.

i take the elevator and when the doors open, i meet eyes with the famous james jameson. he doesn’t say anything at first, peering down at my badge and narrowing his eyes. “mrs. parker?” he says, eventually.

“yes! is my husband peter around? he forgot his lunch.” i hold up the brown paper bag. hilariously, he stands there shocked. mouth wide open like a gaping fish.

“uh- yes. he’s just down the hall.”

“great.” he stops me before i can leave.

“i’m sorry-” he shakes his head with a laugh. “peter parker, right? he’s your husband?” he says this like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.

i nod.

before he can continue, i mumble out a thank you and walk down the hall as directed. when i reach the end, i’m met with a room full of cubicles, all the same grey, dull design.

i scan the room for a minute, and when i find peter’s eyes, his are already on me. his cubicle is tucked by the corner on the left side.

i wave and walk towards him, a hint of a smirk playing at my lips. when i reach him, he’s giving me a glare so deadly it makes hot liquid pour all over my body.

“what are you doing here?” he whispers, an edge to his voice. “you forgot your lunch.” i set the bag on his desk. his face contorts in confusion.

“also, we need to talk. it’s important.” before he can respond, i pull him up from his desk and drag him to the women’s bathroom. i lock the door behind us.

“jesus christ, y/n. someone’s gonna think i’m trying to get a quickie in on the job.”

“not if you shut up and let me talk.”

peter rolls his eyes. when he looks down at my badge, his eyes widen. “mrs. parker?” he sputters out, a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“it’s was the only way to get in.”

“and what was so important that you needed to get in?”

ever since peter filled me in on the night of gwen’s death, i decided to use my new knowledge on the subject to conduct my own investigation. i find out about electro and harry’s assistant, felicia hardy, who i believe would be a great help in our search.

“because i know about electro and felicia hardy.”

peter looks distraught at the mention of electro and felicia. it’s not long before his shock quickly dissipates into anger. “i thought i said i didn’t need your help.”

“but you do, peter!” i fling my arms around, my anger building up rapidly, cheeks burning. “gwen was my best friend! my confidant, and i’m not going to rest until i find the bastard that killed her. i’m going to do it with or without your help, so why don’t you do yourself a favor and accept that you need my help. it’s been two years for fucks sake.”

peter blinks.

he seems to really think about it for a second. his eyes looking me up and down, then scanning my face. finally he begrudgingly says, “fine.”

my eyes light up a smidge.

“but the second things start going south, you’re out. got it?”

“got it.”

“this stays between us. there can’t be any secrets between us or else it’ll all go to shit. promise me you won’t keep anything from me.”

i hold out my pinky. “i promise.”

except i’ve already broken that promise because i’ve failed to mention the threatening letters in my mailbox.

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dustedmagazine · 7 months

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Marc Masters — High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape (University of North Carolina Press)

There’s a popular theory, advanced with varying degrees of seriousness, that the best kind of music is whatever was released when you were about 16. There’s also a fairly well-known Brian Eno quotation about the way we tend to romanticize forms of media just as they fall out of currency, eventually becoming loved even for their shortcomings. One of the biggest strengths of Marc Masters’ High Bias, a new history of the compact cassette (as it was originally known), is that it refuses both the personally biased special pleading of the former and the possibly distorting format nostalgia of the latter. Instead Masters brings together a fascinating technical history of the creation, limits, and virtues of the cassette tape, an overview of some of the areas where the medium has been most richly used and adopted, and a reflection on its continued vitality.

That last aspect, which is reflected on throughout High Bias and forms the focus of the book’s last chapter, is one example of the balance Masters manages to strike. It would be easy to fall into a kind of strenuous insistence on the most optimistic vision of the cassette’s future, to tell us that it could or should regain a level of prominence it hasn’t seen in decades. But to do so would require a… selective choice of data, and would probably fall into a kind of “protesting too much” register for many readers. Masters instead has the confidence and knowledge of the actual current (vital, but subcultural) role of cassette tapes to make the more modest but resonant point that the ‘cassette revival,’ such as it is, is already with us and shows no signs of going away. And he both puts this in its proper, inspiring context and makes a persuasive case for its importance because of the book’s continual emphasis on the democratizing and personalizing aspects of cassette tape as a medium.

The opening chapters, which include relatively brief looks at the context of recording technology prior to and at the time of the cassette’s introduction, set the stage well. Masters doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the social, marketing and profit motives impinging on the development and success of the medium (and the sometimes panicked response of the music industry to it, “home taping is killing music” and all), and points out how those aren’t totally separable from the explosion in personal expression that tapes allow. From there, High Bias branches out, looking at various places and times cassettes have helped or even allowed particular peoples, scenes or genres to be heard and spread in ways other media haven’t managed. From Deadheads to the early days of hiphop, Awesome Tapes From Africa to some of the more extremely personal examples that sometimes overlap with those covered in Michael Tau’s recent Extreme Music (reviewed on Dusted here), this slim volume doesn’t pretend to be exhaustive but does manage to illuminate enough different areas most readers may find themselves surprised by at least one of the many little pockets Masters looks into.

The second-last chapter, “The Tape Makers,” may be where High Bias hits many of its intended audience in an even more personal place. Here the book shifts slightly from people making music onto, or then distributed via, cassette, and instead delves into the personal mixtape. The balance between creation and curation is never that clearcut, of course, and the chapter doesn’t pretend it is. But whereas after the cassette we have burned CDs and playlists, before the team at Philips first brought the compact cassette to the world there was simply no mass-available form that offered the particular form of expression that a mixtape does. As with the rest of High Bias, here Masters uses a blend of interviews, secondary sources and direct experience to convey the unique role and impact of the cassette, both in its historical moment and persisting into the current day.

It’s not that the cassette tape is a “better” medium than vinyl, CD, DAT, or saved or streamed digital files (what would “better” even mean in anything other than a subjective sense?), and it’s not that High Bias, despite its doubly accurate title (both a desired quality in a cassette and an implicit acknowledgment that this a very pro-tapes book), tries to make that claim. But Masters clearly had in his sights a compelling portrait of the strengths of the format, and what makes it different from those other media, and here he convincingly portrays it as a special and worthy one. He’s even set up a, well, mixtape for the book on Bandcamp (linked at the beginning of this review), 12 tracks all sourced from current tape labels he discusses in the book. Notably, you can buy that mix on a cassette.

Ian Mathers

#Marc Masters #High Bias: The Distorted History of the Cassette Tape #University of North Carolina press #Ian Mathers #bookreview #dusted magazine #cassettes #history #technology #DIY #mixtapes #Bandcamp

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t-tex-edwards · 1 year

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T. TEX EDWARDS writes:

Way back in the 1980’s, Mr. Mike Buck gave me a cassette mixtape he made called THE RUBBER ROOM, comprised of old C&W songs about murder, madness, jails etc. but mainly about murder. Nowadays it’s a whole genre of it’s own. But back then it was just tapes of weird old tunes that record collectors like Buck shared amongst friends.

I had a friend named Danny Whittington back in Austin with some recording equipment at his house & on a lark, I suggested we record some of those songs next time I was back in town visiting from my then-current home in Hollywood, California. That was how this album came about. What started out as a kind of sick joke turned into a semi-serious music project.

As it turned out, the songwriting on the most part was strong, the musicianship of the friends & friends-of-friends who were recruited was sure, & somehow my drug-sick, mumbled warbling fit right in & some minor magic was created.

Weirdo Austin artist Bob “Don’t Call Me Robert” Frye, another friend-of-a-friend was tagged with coming up with some coverart. Something along the lines of Porter Wagoner’s COLD, HARD FACTS OF LIFE (one of the songs included) & this fantastic creation of Bob’s was the lynchpin in convincing Long Gone John, indie record guy & collector of transgressive art, to release a vinyl LP of the project on his Sympathy For The Record Industry label.

Much, much later, after the century turned & I had moved back to Austin, Jeff Smith of Saustex Media, consented to re-releasing a CD version in 2007.

Which brings us to the present where I still have some of those CDs left to peddle to you here on eBay: https://www.ebay.com/itm/155359257397

AMAZON BLURB:

'Pardon Me, I've Got Someone To Kill' is a re-issue of the classic 1989 Sympathy For The Record Industry release (also New Rose in France, 1991) by T. Tex Edwards & Out On Parole. T. Tex is a true Texas Punk pioneer dating from his work in the 70's with the Nervebreakers and his later Hollywood outfit the Loafin' Hyenas. 'Pardon Me,...' is a collection of obscure C & W 'murder' songs rendered in Edwards' singular style. Top-notch backing on the disc is provided by Austin Roots luminaries Mike Buck (Fabulous T-Birds, Leroi Bros.) on the drums, John X. Reed (Doug Sahm, Jesse Taylor, Lucky Tomblin Band) on a variety of guitars, and other lesser-known but equally talented weirdos. 14 tales about drinkin', cheatin', killin' and prison rendered in high Texan fashion for your listening enjoyment. Includes the previously unreleased 'Last Will and Testimony (of a Drinking Man) by Tex and the Affordable Caskets.

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azspot · 9 months

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sunshinereddie · 2 years

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bestie! I’m 100% leeching off that ask abt Richie writing songs for Eddie :,) also using popular songs as Richie’s songs so… suspend your disbelief~

I’m thinking about Richie having a spiral notebook that is absolutely battered. Just falling apart and almost completely full of fragments of songs and lyric ideas. The front and back covers are ninety percent duct tape now, and it’s clear the title of the book had been scribbled out in sharpie. More than once.

It’s kind of grimy and definitely in need of retirement but he holds onto it like it’s his prized possession. It’s not even his only lyric book, it’s one of like 10 and most of them are half full and forgotten. But something about that notebook is special. The rest of the losers are kind of going crazy with curiosity but they respect that Richie (who usually is so open with everything) has something he doesn’t want to share.

When Richie gets signed at a label he ends up dipping into his “Eddie” lyric book for inspiration. He sends some lines to his manager who is very enthusiastic about Richie’s stage presence -and not much else-. “The song is pretty good kid, but I think your S key is broken. ‘Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic’? You mean she?” And it’s a harsh reality, even the music industry isn’t ready for what he feels. “Yeah, my bad.” It tastes bitter as it leaves his mouth.

Thus begins the legacy of Richie Tozier, ladies man. Songs altered to fit the demographic of young women who want to see him as available. Boring PR dates and explosive PR breakups. As time went on, the songs began losing any and all of his influence. His battered little notebook collecting dust under his bed along with the rest of his meager belongings from his time in Derry.

“Jesus Richie, you don’t remember a line from your own song?”

“I don’t write my own lyrics.”

“I fucking knew it!”

After killing It and sobbing uncontrollably at Eddie’s bedside, Richie decides that life is too short for the bullshit he puts up with in his daily life. Once Eddie is out of the woods, he calls his long time manager and fires him on the spot. While waiting for Eddie to wake up, Richie scribbles out everything he wants to tell him.

“Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again. Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again.” And suddenly the beat comes to him. It makes his heart pound and he feels alive for the first time in years.

Richie releases “lovesong” six months later. He produced it almost entirely by himself, only getting fine tuning help from an amateur music producer he met in his apartment building a few weeks before the “It” incident. He’d even hired a new manager who was as excited as he was to redefine his image. And just two days before the song release, Richie announced his engagement to his childhood best friend who “inspired every love song I’ve ever made”.

Mrs. Rachel Tozier @richietoesiher wait. wtf? @trashmouth is engaged??? have we found the lucky girl yet??

richie tozier ✓ @trashmouth @richietoesiher I know, I’m as surprised as you are! I guess all those love songs finally swayed him ;)

The death of Richie Tozier “ladies man” is well received. Most people welcome the change of on stage persona and musical stylization. Though some people definitely are loud about their opinions of him and his “lifestyle choices”, it’s a lot easier to ignore when he has Eddie and the rest of the Losers by his side.

He ends up re-releasing a lot of his older songs the way they were originally intended to be played (think of it as a “Taylor’s Version” thing). Eddie loves listening to Richie workshop older songs, seeing his face light up the way it used to when they were kids. He finds that he likes Richie’s versions of his songs more than the label approved ones, and he definitely has a soft spot for “Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic”.

The day of their wedding (a small affair, attended only by the Losers themselves), Richie releases an EP called “Eddie” which contains five songs, “Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow”, “Boys Don’t Cry”, “Head Over Heels”, “I Was Born To Love You”, and a cover of “Eddie My Love”. It’s by far is best selling record and the songs get used in all those first dance wedding videos on YouTube (which has always been a dream of his).

The day after the wedding he posts a picture of Eddie sleepily smiling at the camera while wearing official Richie Tozier merch with the caption “Eddie Approved ✓”.

okay I feel better getting that out of my system <3 it got kinda long, sorry ;__; </3

-🫀

hey. hey heartie. can you maybe. STOP BREAKING MY HEART WITH THESE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE FICS OF YOURS ?!?!?)?!?,?? AAAAAAHHHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH……..

i absolutely love the idea of writing rereleasing all his songs, releasing the same songs but the “gay version”, aaahhh that’s so incredible!!! also ?!?2?:?/!/?/8/ him releasing an EP called ‘eddie’ ???? AND ALL THE SONGS ON IT ?????!!?,, AAAHHH PERFECTION <3

anyways gonna go cry now….. happy tears because this is such a beautiful au :’)

#sunshinereddie asks #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie hc #reddie headcanon #it #it hc #it au #it 2017 #it 2019 #🫀anon <3

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fernand0 · 9 months

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xaviergalatis · 9 months

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Home Taping Is Killing Music: When the Music Industry Waged War on the Cassette Tape During the 1980s, and Punk Bands Fought Back | Open Culture

#readinglist #reading list

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hackernewsrobot · 9 months

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When the Music Industry Waged War on the Cassette Tape During the 1980s

https://www.openculture.com/2023/07/home-taping-is-killing-music-when-the-music-industry-waged-war-on-the-cassette-tape.html

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welivezombiecarnival · 10 months

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We Live Artist of the Week: Dead Chant

youtube

We Live is more than just your average morning radio show taking place in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Sure, guests call from all over the world and end their interview by getting eaten by zombies live on the air. Sure, these guests are athletes, musicians, artists, actors, journalists, and overall legends. But We Live is more than listening to hilarious interviews that always end the same way - people dying. It also is a show that plays the best indie and underground music on planet Earth.

The governments of the world have collapsed. Zombies lurch on every corner of the world. The living are encouraged to stay home and stay safe. But that doesn’t seem to happen. The world goes on, just with zombies. And since all bets are off, that means the industry conglomerates no longer own the radio waves. Thanks to the end of civilization as we know it, and the rise of undead ghouls, we all get to listen to amazing music from phenomenal artists.

We Live boasts the best underground music library from indie artists anywhere that the living still survives. Every week, we bring you music from around the globe that you would most likely never hear anywhere else. We’ll prove it. Go ahead and check out our Bandcamp page. And those are just some of our celebrated artists. We also search abandoned record stores and music studios for CDs, tapes, records, and even 8-tracks of forgotten or never “broke-through” musicians. We also search Soundcloud and Spotify for artists waiting to get noticed.

But every week, we highlight one particular artist or band that we think you’ll really enjoy regardless of your taste in music. This week, that band is DEAD CHANT.

Dead Chant is a skate punk band from Seoul, South Korea. They are on the forefront of the K-Indie scene that is taking over the nation. The punk band consists of Rumgirl on vocals, Kangboy on guitar, YBomb on guitar, and Blion on drums. They came onto the scene with their first single “Jimmy’s Punk”. They followed that single up with the single “Kill Your Boss”. You can follow Dead Chant on their Bandcamp page HERE.

The band’s song “Monologue to Her” was featured in this week’s episode of We Live titled “Strain to Busan”. Make sure you follow all of our great artists on their social media accounts and support them on Bandcamp. Listen to We Live on Spotify and enjoy every episode HERE. You can take a listen to their song on this week’s episode in the link below. Also remember that our 24/7 Deadline messaging phone number is open for voicemail or text. If you have anyone you’d like us to discover, please let us know at +1(360)836-0628.

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#Youtube

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c-40 · 1 year

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A-T-3 087 And It's Illegal

Part 6 wittering on about reissues when they make up 75% of album sales in the US

I've not touched upon the internet yet. Peer-to-Peer (P2P) sharing sites sped up the process of what was already happening with major record labels resulting in the triopoly of the 'big three' that remain Universal Music Group, Sony Music Entertainment, and Warner Music Group. Sony is the only one still parented by a media corporation and ultimately the conglomerate Sony, the ownership of other two are shared by large investment conglomerates. P2P like Napster and Limewire shook the music industry up, questions were asked about how these conglomerates should still exploit musicians and extract profit when people could download music for free, reminiscent of Home Taping Is Killing Music hysteria

P2P music sharing was perfect for music geekery, for the first time ever those mythical recordings that were talked about could be searched for and heard not instantly but overnight. It was like spending all day everyday in a record shop trying out new music. And we didn't stop buying records, not even slow down. I read a lot of books on music history, books like The Rough Guide To Reggae and Love Saves The Day now you could look up music as you were reading about it

DjHistory began its all things Dj and records online forum around 2000, not long after founders Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton released their book Last Night a DJ Saved My Life. I lurked on the forums a bit, not much, but I avoided getting sucked in like many of my record collecting and Dj friends (I also have a long term illness which despite me trying gets in the way, if you're taking something like learning it's only polite to put something back into it.) I like the Dj community, they're a good laugh, it's a bit blokey but that's been changing

Andrew Hogge began lovefingers.org in 2006 posting a single Fingertrack mp3 more or less everyday for 4-years. The Fingertracks were mostly obscure discoveries made by people that spend way too much time hunting for moments of recorded magic. What emerged was a well curated collection of mp4s which resonated with me and many other like-minded people, I think I read at its peak Lovefingers was getting 100k hits a day. Other sites followed like Bumrocks, Dirty Sound System, Feel My Bicep. These sites also shared record collector knowledge with the curious. Listening to the music on these sites was the first time I realised the more you discover the less you knew

These websites had a positive impact and encouraged compilations of more obscure music and reissues outside the usual

I got an invitation to beta test Spotify in 2008, at this time there were no regional restrictions to music catalogues so you could find, say, German copies of albums with different takes, mixes, or extra tracks. The catalogue was overwhelming, it still is. When the catalogue reduced, regional markets went into effect, artists pulled their music to negotiate, and adverts were introduced it became less interesting to me and I took it off my computer. I like record shops and searching through the racks of music, I enjoy the social (or anti-social depending on what way you view it) aspect to it. It's also a more chaotic when looking though boxes of second hand records who knows what you might find, sometimes there might be forgotten about notes in the sleeves or the sleeves might be decorated in graffiti and stickers

Bandcamp is cool though. There's a 'sense' of supporting the artist and many artists who haven't had releases for decades have put their music on Bandcamp. Of course depending on who owns the rights the money might not go to the artist but sometimes this might be the first time they see revenue from a session done 40-years-ago. It's also an outlet for new music, what do you recon, is Bandcamp a new MySpace? With reissue packages becoming so expensive (personally I'm not arsed about coloured vinyl) digital downloads on Bandcamp are the budget option and also a way of getting your hands on out-of-print material

William Ackerman - Synopsis was Fingertrack 094. William Ackerman is founder of Windham Hill Records which is now controlled by Legacy/Sony

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#1983 #william ackerman #ambient #guitar #california #usa #80s music

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coll2mitts · 1 year

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#58 Phantom of the Paradise (1974)

Happy Halloween! Let's show these industry music phonies what a REAL artist looks and sounds like by murdering everyone that goes against our vision!

I will admit, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into watching Phantom of the Paradise, and how intense its Phans are. Its production is probably one of the most well documented out of all the movies I’ve written about on this list so far... so much so I had to cut off my research phase before the materials ran out because I never would have released this on time otherwise. Conventions, and interviews, and painstakingly written breakdowns of every scene in the movie, oh my!

I’m going to have to release a redux version of this next year, aren’t I?

I thought this would be a weird 70s rock version of The Phantom of the Opera, which it is, but it is also Faust, A Picture of Dorian Gray, and like 3 decades worth of musical genres. Phantom of the Paradise is directed by Brian De Palma, who is probably more well-known for his work on Carrie and Scarface. I've never seen a single one of his movies, but that's OK, everything I need to know about him is succinctly outlined in this review of The Black Dahlia, and while you could prolly watch the entire movie in the time it takes you to watch Willie's recap of it, why would you want to?

Apparently Mr. De Palma wrote Phantom of the Paradise after hearing a muzak version of The Beatles in an elevator and was so salty about it he had to make an entire movie about the music industry bastardizing creative genius and like, sure. This isn't the first movie on this list to bitch about how exploitative the music and film industries can be, but this is the only one where the dude wears a metal bird helmet and murders people.

Phantom begins like any other Twilight Zone episode, with narration from Rod Serling warning us a monster may live in the opera house, but it might not appear as one in the beginning. Then we're introduced to The Juicy Fruits, Death Records' latest retro musical act, put together by their President and first bird-related character name, Swan. They sing a song about how some dude killed himself to sell more records, which isn't at all foreshadowing the events that happen later in the film. After they're done recording, some Ben Folds motherfucker who was acting as their pianist starts playing exerts from his original cantata Faust.

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Swan likes what he hears and asks his lackey Arnold Philbin to get a few songs from the ironically named Winslow Leach so The Juicy Fruits can record them. When the doo-wop band is mentioned, Winslow loses his absolute shit and insists "Faust" can only be sung by him and him alone. Arnold is like, "Cool, dude, that's chill, just give me a few of the songs from your weirdly long 300 page sonata and Swan will think about producing your new album." Winslow gives up the goods and Swan *surprisingly* never contacts him again.

About a month later, Winslow tries to approach Swan at Death Records, and immediately I'm reminded of greasy pop-punk kids wearing Atticus t-shirts roaming the halls of my high school. In Phantom, this logo was awkwardly plastered over building signs, podiums, television sets, tape recorders, cameras, and whole mess of other things in post-production, and it uhhh, stood out.

I thought perhaps this was to cut costs on props, but turns out these signs originally read "Swan Song Records", which is morbidly poetic. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Led Zeppelin formed Swan Song Records in the time between the film finished shooting and the film being released. To avoid a lawsuit, 20th Century Fox forced the team to edit out any references to Swan Song, and it is super noticeable and several years later people are still screaming about releasing the Swan Song cut.

Winslow gets booted from the building, and tracks Swan down at his home compound, Swanage. TURNS OUT, Swan is holding auditions for his latest rock opera, Faust! Winslow meets Phoenix while she's rehearsing his song while waiting and instantly falls in love. He reveals he wrote the song, and she fawns over him in an attempt to get cast in the background chorus. He takes her kindness as a sign of affection, and spends the rest of the movie obsessed with her.

After Philbin tries to casting-couch Phoenix and she runs off, Winslow disguises himself as a hot chick in order to gain access to Swan. He politely inquires what the fuck is up with Swan yanking Faust out from under him, and the confrontation goes about as well as expected. Winslow gets physically removed, framed for possession of heroin, and lugged off to do time in the aptly named Sing Sing.

Swan, played by Paul Williams, is also the composer of this film. He wrote songs for the Muppet-based movies that appear on this list, including "The Rainbow Connection", "Movin' Right Along", and "When Love is Gone", but also found success writing for pop acts like Daft Punk, David Bowie and The Carpenters. While Phantom of the Paradise pretty much bombed upon release, the soundtrack went gold in Canada because 20k copies of it were sold in my motherland of Winnipeg, Manitoba. For context, that's 40% of its total record sales. The movie had a 18-week run in the city, and had a brief resurgence later that summer when Paul Williams played a concert there. There have been a few retrospectives conducted to understand why exactly Winnipeg, of all places, clung to this story, including an entire feature-length documentary that I couldn't watch because you can't stream it anywhere. There's been several Phantompaloozas hosted there for fuck’s sake. But best I can tell, it really caught on with the kids in Winnipeg because it was marketed toward children on television. The author of this article regaled a time where him and his other school-aged buddies would reenact scenes from it at recess, which is equal measures delightful as it is disturbing.

Winslow is having a terrible time in prison, as the Swan Foundation pulled all his teeth as part of what they called “Dental Health Research”. 6 months later, while Winslow is assembling board games as part of the government's legalized slavery program, he overhears his worse nightmare - The Juicy Fruits are going to be opening Swan's new venue, The Paradise, with Faust! Winslow is so incensed by this, he hulks out of prison and attempts to destroy the recordings at Death Records. He instead gets his head caught in a record press, becoming horribly disfigured with a copy of his bastardized work.

When Winslow reappears, he is sporting a lovely metal beak and an appetite for revenge! During rehearsals for the new 60s surf-rock branded Juicy Fruits, the Phantom starts the kill counter by blowing up a car on stage.

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The fact there are not one, but two uncut shots on the screen at one time is bananas.

Swan seems generally unaffected by this, and tries to appease Winslow by offering him a job. Swan invites Winslow to attend auditions so his vision for Faust can be realized properly. Phoenix is there, and after agreeing to sell her voice to Swan, Winslow also agrees to rewrite the cantata with Phoenix’s performance in mind. Winslow then signs a contract in blood without a lawyer present after Swan fucked him over once before, because it seems Winslow is incapable of learning anything from the story of Faust, even when he's currently living the plot.

Swan begins to conduct his own secret auditions to replace Phoenix as a lead, seated at a desk that Ron Swanson would be disgusted by.

Swan settles on a showy glam-rock star named Meatloaf Beef, which presumably is the opposite of what Winslow wants. Beef is from Transylvania, so of course they introduce him by having him emerge from a coffin growling. On the day of the show’s opening, Swan drugs Winslow, grabs his latest version of the Cantata, and Cask of Amontillado's him into his recording studio.

Winslow hulks himself out of that, as well, and decides to threaten Beef's life in the shower, psycho-style.

For a second, Beef forgot about Winslow's whole thinly-veiled death threat thing, and he wondered how clean the plunger was.

Beef tries to leave the production, but is convinced to stay when Arnold offers him drugs. This was the wrong call, because moments later, after the newly 70s-updated Juicy Fruits build a Franken-Beef on stage, Winslow makes good on his threat and electrocutes him.

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Then, out of the flames of Beef's corpse, Phoenix arises to sing a Karen Carpenter-esque ballad to calm the crowd down.

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Winslow is comforted by Phoenix's performance, but so is Swan. He goes into her dressing room and propositions her for sex, and she's so excited by her future career as a recording artist, she goes back to Swanage and fucks him. Winslow watches this uncomfortably long love scene through a skylight and decides to stab himself out of grief. The wound doesn't kill him, however, as Swan informs Winslow that because he signed a contract, he can't die until Swan does. And also, just for funsies, Swan is immortal because he is under a mysterious contract as well.

Winslow discovers a tape in Swan's recording studio that reveals the secret of his success. Swan, during a suicide attempt, makes a deal with the devil to stay young forever. As long as the recording of the deal stays intact, Swan will never age, much like The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's also revealed that all Swan learned from the Beef debacle is that crowds love murder, so he arranges to marry Phoenix on television at the end of Faust, and have her assassinated on stage shortly afterward to boost the ratings for sweeps week. Winslow decides he needs to stop this immediately and destroys the videotape, damning himself and Swan to die.

While the records room burns, the Paradise is hoppin' in anticipation for Swan and Phoenix's wedding. Winslow shoots the priest, which causes a mild frenzy, but not enough to keep people from partying. He then stabs and kills Swan, which reopens his own stab wound, and The Phantom dies splayed out on the carpet with his one milky eyeball hanging out. Phoenix can only look on in horror with the knowledge she'll need years and years of therapy to process the last 2 minutes of her life.

I saw this movie compared with Rocky Horror Picture Show several times while diving into this, and there are some parallels. Both are rock horror musicals, both have a flashy frankenstein’s monster, and they were released within a year of each other. Other than those surface level items, I don’t think it’s a fair comparison. Watching Phantom of the Paradise is a weirdly unique experience, as the film acknowledges its campy nature, but still works hard to drive home the overlying message that creative industries care nothing for artistic endeavors and only want to make money.

I’m reminded of a statement former Disney CEO Michael Eisner used in a memo once, which yeah.. I know, hear me out. He was the head of the company during the Disney Renaissance, and for all the questionable decisions he did make, those movies saved the company. In an internal memo sent out during his time at Paramount, he riffed on a Don Simpson quote, “We have no obligation to make art. We have no obligation to make history. We have no obligation to make a statement. But to make money, it is often important to make history, to make art, or to make some significant statement… In order to make money, we must always make entertaining movies, and if we make entertaining movies, at times we will reliably make history, art, a statement, or all three. We may even win awards… We cannot expect numerous hits, but if every film has an original and imaginative concept, then we can be confident that something will break through.”

Now, this quote was taken from Disney War, and I couldn’t get a copy of the book to verify it, but I see it floating around in Disney forums constantly to justify why Eisner was the worst CEO ever because he said money was the primary goal of movie making. But this statement is an insightful peek behind the curtain. Disney is a business. 20th Century Fox is a business, and if they made a ton of movies that had artistic merit, but didn’t make them money, they’d have to stop making movies. The goal of businesses is to make money so you can stay in business.

All this to say, yes, being exploited by a huge machine who has more power and money than God is absolutely wrong. Swan isn’t justified in stealing Winslow’s work and murdering people to make The Paradise more successful. But hearing a Muzak rendition of "A Day in the Life” isn’t quite the horror Brian De Palma made it out to be. The Beatles have always been making that bag, so tone it down a bit.

#100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes #unwarranted opinion

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icarusthelunarguard · 2 years

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This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter.

Aries

Umbrellas are all the rage these days. You can buy a large quality one easily enough, but if you want to make a statement go buy a Samurai Sword Umbrella! It slings over your shoulder with the handle of a katana, but the “blade” is just a standard umbrella. And if you want to REALLY screw with people, make your own… but make an ACTUAL blade in the center so you have a Samurai Sword Umbrella Samurai Sword! Because Umbrella-Swords are cool as hell!

Taurus

Did you grow up in the 2000’s? Here’s a blast from the past for you - let’s see if you still remember your old childhood friends. Yellow Humbah, Purple Zumbah, Orange Zing Zing Zingbah, Blue Jumbah, and Pink Jingbah. You remember who all these “Atoms of Energy” are? That’s right - they’re the characters from “Boohbah”! The way you just winced at that is how we older folks wince at the Saturday Morning shows from Sid and Marty Krofft. It was all LSD and Acid. Change our minds!

Gemini

It’s Renaissance festival season and you need to check your costume’s condition. Sure, you could go in that leather corset showing hectares of cleavage again, but consider adding a Starfleet issue communicator badge paired to your phone so you can talk to your friends. When the event staff ask who you’re talking to, deny everything, claim you’re haunted with demons, failing that claim it was Nostradamus’ doing. Just set your phaser to STUNNING!

Cancer Moon-Child

Newspapers might be passe, but you know what’s something that should come back? Recording computer programs off the radio! Yeah, that was totally a thing you could do, and it’s something that should totally come back! It was simple, really; you waited for the DJ to announce that it was time to hit RECORD on your tape deck and the sounds would be picked up for you to load into your tape drive later! Then again, at 37 BYTES per second a 5 Megabyte song file would take over half a day.

Leo

Getting older doesn’t mean you get kinder. You know the stereotype of old people playing Bingo at the Old Folks’ Homes? They are vicious! They will complain about every little thing including, but not limited to… they got the wrong card, they didn’t get Four Corners this week because Tillie is sitting in their favorite seat, and… and we cannot stress this enough… that you’re calling out the balls wrong. Yes, that includes that you’re tinkering with which ball falls out of the cage. Don’t get OLD!

Virgo

Summer’s here and if you want to read trashy romance novels, just start reading Greek mythologies. Ever heard the term “Zephyr Winds”? “Zephyrus”, the Greek god of the west wind, and the harpy “Celaeno”, birthed Balius and Xanthus, Achilles' horses. And in an as-yet unsolved death, it was claimed he killed one of Apollo's many male lovers, Hyacinth, out of jealousy. Hyacinth was accidentally killed by a discus thrown by Apollo. According to some sources Zephyr was the true culprit, having blown the discus off course. Happy Reading!

Libra

If you grew up in the 90’s you likely still remember… The Wiggles, from Australia! Remember them? Anthony - he’s 59 now. Murry? He’s breaking 62 now. Jeff’s 68, Greg is 50, and Phillip is 64. You’ll be happy to know that they’re all still alive and active in the musical industry, and would likely love to hear from you. They have lots of social media accounts, so have fun with that!

Scorpio

Remember when home printers went from Black and White teletype machines to colour? No, it wasn’t with bubble jets. You could get dot matrix printers with multi-coloured ribbons and print that way. It was slow, it was sloppy, but it was better than nothing. Today you can do photos in only a few minutes in a take-along battery-operated handheld device. Kinda like the old Poloriod cameras were able to do. And those still exist you know!

Sagittarius

Remember the expression, “Racing The Sun”? Good luck doing that unless you have a plane… specifically a Supersonic one! You’ll have to be speeding along at Mach One-Point-Three to keep the Sun in the sky for yourself. In civilian life only the French & British Concordes and the Russian Tupolev Tu-144 could do that. BUT, if you go back to 1996 and enter the Pepsi Points contest with 7 Million points, you might win the Harrier jet! It wouldn’t get you past Mach Point-Nine, but wouldn’t it be GREAT to own the Pepsi company’s marketing team?

Capricorn

Before you start saying “Cartoons are for Kids” or “Comic Books are for Kids” or “TV Sci Fi is for Kids”, might we remind you that GOOD stories, COMPELLING stories, come from a place of empathy, sympathy, and joined conflict. Remember X-Men? It was an alegory for homosexuality in the 60’s. My Little Pony Friendship is Magic tackled the topic of Self Harm! And “Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos”? Stan Lee was told that the title alone wouldn’t sell and he said, basically, “Screw you guys! I’m gunna do it!” So.. Spite I Guess?

Aquarius

Parking in cities is normally not a big deal, but if you want David Attenborough levels of Life Or Death, try getting an on-the-street parking spot in Chicago or Boston during the winter. The people will shovel out a spot then put a lawn chair in there to scare away any potential spot snipers. Do yourself a favour; never visit either city in the winter… or ever, really.

Pisces

Out there on Mars is the aerial “rover” named Ingenuity! It’s a solar-powered helicopter that’s been able to run for almost an hour of flight time and over 7 kilometers of travel distance! So the next time someone asks if you know how to pilot a drone, don’t you DARE say, “Sure! It’s not like it’s rocket science or anything”, because it TOTALLY is, now! Stop annoying NASA like that!

And THOSE are your Hobble-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

#horoscope #humor #funny #parody

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