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narutosfrog · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡 — Reader x Strawhats ! Reader x Luffy — SECOND PART

cw: fem!reader, some body description, violence, mentions of hunting animals, sexual content, mdni

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— TAG LIST: @cameshitpost @herbo-logia @irenered-20 @unstable06 @toraochi @cuddleymoonbear @boggiesho

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The temple was actually a cave, carved deep into what seemed to be a wall of stone. It was, indeed, the only breach of the highest mountain of the island, which dominated the landscape with its greatness — the summit was so high that the clouds prevented its view.

"It's majestic," murmured Chopper in awe.

"What's behind the mountain?" asked Robin. She couldn't wait to get into that temple and have time for herself to study the Poigne Griffe and, yet, she couldn't stop staring.

"The forbidden bit of the island" answered the nymph, "Mother Nature didn't place such an obstacle by chance. It would challenge the bravest hearts."

"But you saw the forbidden bit..." guessed Chopper.

Y/n's lips formed a sad smile. "I've always loved a good challenge."

Robin lowered her gaze, smiling to herself. "You sound like our captain," she uttered. And then she disappeared into the temple.

The nymph spent the following couple of hours explaining Chopper whatever she remembered about the medical herbs. No matter how much she hated to admit it, she liked the little guy.

Y/n grabbed a purple root and showed it to him. "This is the last one but it's the most dangerous and difficult to use. It was used to boost the vital energy of us warriors or of a sick or hurt nymph who didn't wish to give up life."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"You need to figure out your way to use it. You could infuse it or make pills, whatever is coherent with your studies — but I'm warning you. Try not to use it."

Chopper gazed up at her, his round eyes full of worry. "What would happen if I did?"

"It could work. But if the person is not strong enough they will die. It would be the last straw for their heart."

Chopper was about to say something but the swordsman and the cook appeared from the trees, cutting him off.

"Oi, nymph" said Zoro, in a low tone, "Luffy sent us to ask you more food."

"Be more polite, idiot!" yelled Sanji.

"More food?" she hissed, "It was supposed to last for three days."

"Luffy is an animal, what can I say?"

Y/n gritted her teeth. "You're causing problems and you've been here for less than two days. Tell your captain to come here."

"I don't think he's going to come," said Zoro in a monochord tone.

"Then he's going to starve and you all with him."

Zoro narrowed his eyes. In his mind, Y/n could clearly see that he was struggling with his desire to fight her. She wasn't surprised with that. What she was surprised with was a sort of flashback — Luffy commanding him to never attack her. Never.

She furrowed her eyebrows and tried her best to silence the thoughts. "Your captain will come" she spelled, "And that is the end of the matter."

"You do not command us."

Her eyes lit up like burning gold, as she rose on her feet, fury radiating from her voice.

"I do command you. You may be pirates but this is the Sanctuary and I am the eldest nymph. Do not get on the wrong side of me. Every second you're spending on land is by my grace — You are alive by my grace."

Zoro unsheathed his swords, his jaw clenched with anger, but a voice came from the nearby trees.

"It's alright, Zoro." Luffy stepped out of the trees, his face more serious than ever. "I'll go."

Sanji, who turned into a bundle of stupid nerves everytime a woman was involved, was wary as well. "Are you sure?"

"She won't hurt me."

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "You seem a little bit too sure."

"You and I know better than to fight among us" murmured Luffy, a harsh tone in his voice, "Don't we?"

She didn't answer and turned to Chopper, her cold stone glare turning warm for a moment. "Take as many herbs as you want, Chopper. But wait until Robin is done so she doesn't get attacked while walking back alone."

Chopper let out a shy smile. He liked the nymph — he wasn't happy with all that conflict. "Thank you, Y/n. You're very kind.*

Y/n nodded and then gazed up at Luffy, glaring again. "Follow me."

When they got closer to the side of the mountain, Luffy furrowed his eyebrows. "Really, now?"

"Given what I saw in your memories, I thought you knew things don't just come your way for free" she said, "The forbidden bit is the only place where hunting is permitted and to reach the forbidden bit we need to get past the mountain."

"We?" he murmured, getting closer, "Thought you didn't want anything to do with me but the way you talk says something else."

Y/n clenched her jaw and started climbing. "Shut the fuck up."

Luffy smiled to himself and followed her lead. He couldn't even understand what was making him smile. Truth was, he was angry at her. He wasn't used to things not going his way. Yet, he couldn't hate her.

Not when he kept catching her as she looked back, just to make sure he was fine. Not when the climb got hard and, despite her tone, she kept asking him if he needed help.

Luffy couldn't help but feel drawn to her. He wanted her in his crew. He wanted her. So, when it almost became hard to breathe and his muscles were sore from climbing, he kept his eyes on her. And he kept going up, and up and up again.

Y/n got to the top first and she held out her hand, downwards. Luffy looked at her furrowed eyebrows and warm eyes. And her voice, ever strict, made a request.

"Take my hand," she murmured.

Luffy surrendered to the command and grabbed her hand, as she pulled him past the edge. But his legs gave in for a moment and he stumbled. His weight was too much and sudden for the nymph to bear, so she fell, dragging Luffy on top of her.

There was a moment of astounding silence, only filled by the howling of the wind. The sudden pressure of Luffy's body against hers made Y/n's eyes widen.

The warmth, their skin covered by a thin layer of sweat, their chest heaving up to catch their breaths. The feeling was overwhelming.

And Luffy couldn't stop looking at her. It would've been a lie if he said that he hadn't already noticed her astonishing beauty — but being so close to her, being able to feel her body under his...

The nymph's heart skipped a beat as her mind helplessly ran through Luffy's thoughts. His eyes were deep into hers, his lips slightly parted, his hair moving wildly into the wind's path. She furrowed her eyebrows, thinking that maybe she should've pushed him down the mountain. It was an easier option than accepting the way he made her feel.

"Sorry" he spoke, in a low tone, "Did I hurt you?"

Y/n bit her lip to keep herself from making a sarcastic remark. It only brought Luffy's attention to her full lips and he had to keep himself from being inappropriate.

"I'm not made of sugar, Luffy," she murmured softly. Her skin, already reddened from the climb and the cold wind, hid the blood that had rushed to her face.

Luffy couldn't help but smile. "I know you aren't."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine."

The silence was restored again. They both knew they were supposed to get up and find a way to get down to the forbidden bit, but they didn't dare to utter a word. Instead, Luffy moved his weight on only one of his forearms to sustain himself and raised his other hand, slowly. He pictured what he had in mind, just because he knew she was checking his thoughts, and hoped that she would stop him. But she didn't.

And Luffy brushed the skin of her cheekbones with his fingertips, delicately. He could've sworn he felt the warmth of her blood, rushing to her cheeks. He stared into her eyes, knowing that they were mirroring his own confusion.

She didn't react at his next thought so he gently pressed the palm of his hand on her skin, cupping her face. Y/n was just as surprised as he was, when she instinctively leaned onto his touch. Almost mindlessly, Luffy brushed his thumb on her lips and he took a deep breath. The nymph's heart fluttered at the lewd thoughts in his mind and she placed a hand on his chest.

"Luffy —," she muttered. A warning that she couldn't yet complete. Perhaps because of a lack of will to do that.

Luffy clenched his jaw. It took all of his self control to get his hand off of her face when all he wanted to do was explore every inch of her body. But his self control won the struggle and he chuckled under his breath. "This is the hardest thing I've had to do, today."

Y/n indulged in feeling his heartbeat against her palm, Luffy's scarred skin only making her wish she could map his body — making her wish she could know him in a way that went past the mastery of the mind. "Take it as a challenge" she whispered, "Perhaps, then, we'll decide not to lose."

Luffy tilted his head. "Or maybe it'll become a competition on which one of us loses first."

And, before the eye contact became unbearable, Luffy got both of them up. Y/n turned around, not wanting to face him yet. It had been a long time since she felt that kind of contact — feeling it again with Luffy was just one more struggle to add to the burning pile. Whenever she heard his thoughts, his desire to be closer, she couldn't say no. And that was what made Luffy dangerous.

"How do we get down?" he asked.

Y/n pointed at a waterfall, a few metres ahead. "I usually jump from here."

Luffy laughed to himself. "Fuck, no."

"It's not sea water, we won't drown."

"That doesn't mean you should jump off a cliff — you're not made of rubber."

"So, let me get this straight" said Y/n, "What you're concerned about is my safety, when I've done this a hundred times, but you're not concerned about yours because you're made of rubber?"

Luffy was a hundred percent serious. "Yes."

"Oh, give me a break."

Luffy got closer, a smirk creeping up on his face. "We're doing this my way, Willow" he murmured, "That's it."

The nymph felt her blood rushing down her belly and she hated herself for it. "You do not command me."

"But you won't say no to me, will you?"

"Fuck you."

"Don't ask for things you don't want to happen."

"Last time I checked, you were struggling to get your hands off of me."

"And you weren't going to stop me, weren't you?" he retorted, his hands slowly surrounding her waist.

Y/n brushed her palm against his lower abdomen, feeling the sculpted muscles tense up. "If I did stop you, you would have begged me for it" she murmured, "Isn't that right?"

Luffy leaned his head back, closing his eyes. His shorts were becoming tighter and tighter and he could feel the press of his dick against the fabric, pushing to free itself from the restraint. He opened his eyes to look at her again, meeting her golden eyes. Doe-eyed and seemingly innocent when it suited her, but perfectly aware of what she was doing to him.

"Don't tease me, Y/n" he warned, his voice getting lower, "Or I'll have those pretty eyes of yours roll to the back of your head."

She smirked, her hand going down and down just to stop on the edge of his pants. "You're all talk."

Luffy laughed to himself again. And, in a sudden movement, he threw her on his shoulder before jumping down the cliff. The nymph let out a muffled scream, while he kept snickering excitedly. Y/n could see the earth getting closer and closer. She was almost convinced they were going to crash on the ground but Luffy shot one of his elongated arms around a tree, just in time to land safely.

Luffy let out a satisfied sigh, smiling. He loved the rush of adrenaline — and having her ass so close to his face was definitely adding up to the satisfaction of the moment.

"Put me down!" she growled.

"I bet you can do it on your own," he giggled. He wasn't going to voluntarily put her down, that was for sure. He didn't see a similar occasion coming anytime soon.

"You're shameless..."

"And you know you like it."

"Shut up."

When she did get down on your own, Luffy was actually a bit disappointed. He didn't know how much effort it took her to renounce the chance of contact. But he also could imagine that she didn't quite trust him, yet. So, he tried to wrap his head around the idea that he needed to show her that she could let his guard down around him — another step towards her becoming a member of his crew. Another step towards her becoming his.

"Don't think like that," she hissed as they walked.

Luffy tilted his head. Sometimes he forgot she could read his mind. "I can't help it" he calmly said, "You're the one reading my mind."

"I can't help it either. You, on the other hand, could give up for once."

"I will give up when you give me a good reason why you shouldn't come with me."

"Telling you I don't want to should be enough."

"Maybe, I'll give you that. But I don't think that's the real reason. What I think is, you actually want to but you won't allow yourself."

Y/n glared at him. "Don't push it" she warned him, "You don't know me."

"Then why do I feel like I do?" he retorted, grabbing her wrist, "You feel this connection between us, I know it — don't pretend that you don't."

Y/n wanted to talk back, she wanted to tell him he was wrong. But how could she lie to his face, to those stubborn eyes that demanded an answer?

"Yes, yes, I feel it" she argued, exasperation radiating from her voice, "But that doesn't mean you actually know me, Luffy."

"Then, let me!" he yelled.

The nymph furrowed her eyebrows, as her heart fought to get out of her chest. She wanted to give in so bad... but she couldn't bring herself to. "I can't" she murmured, gently freeing her wrist from his grip, "I just can't."

Luffy's tone changed from angry and exasperated to just sad. "Why? You do know me. Fuck, you have complete access to everything I've ever done or thought or lived through. Why can't I know anything except your name, your age and who you want to kill?"

"I don't — I can't get attached. I'm halfway screwed, alright?" she stammered, "Knowing everything about people is a curse. Imagine being fond of someone two minutes into meeting them because you already know so much about them. Then, imagine you actually spend a lot of time with them. And you grow fonder and fonder. And then, imagine you lose them forever."

Luffy remained in silence. He tried to imagine what she was talking about and felt his chest ache. "You're afraid of losing more people" he muttered, "I get it."

"I know you do. So, please, stop asking."

"You want me to stop asking because you know that, eventually, you will say yes."

"Perhaps."

Luffy sighed and brushed his thumb against her cheek, indulging in the warm contact. "I will make you see that you can let me in" he murmured, "I can see it in your eyes, that you want to get out — you just need to let me in."

Y/n closed her eyes and hoped he would give up on her. Then, she felt the earth shake under her feet.

"There's one coming our way. Be ready."

"One what?" he asked, trying to concentrate. He wanted her to trust him.

"Here, in the forbidden bit, there are giant predators. I see you have experience with those."

"Yeah, let me take care of that."

"Be careful."

Luffy smirked. "Are you worried about me, pretty?" he taunted her.

She glared at him. "Shut up."

He laughed and cracked his knuckles, staring at the massive animal that was coming towards him. "Tell me to shut up quite often, do you? Maybe you should make me."

"Oh, hell. Just get your damned meat."

"Your wish is my command."

After Luffy killed the beast, he had to wait for Y/n to perform some sort of ritual, in which she thanked Mother Nature. When he told her that he was the one who killed the animal so she should've thanked him, instead of a goddess, he had to swerve a slap.

To transport the meat from the forbidden bit to the other side, the nymphs had made up a sort of pulley. Luffy didn't quite understand how it worked but knew for sure that Franky and Usopp would've loved that sort of thing. He hoped that, one day, Y/n and his friends could be close enough for them to share interests and friendship. He was going to make sure that happened.

When they got to the top of the cliff again, ready to get down Luffy's way, Y/n freezed.

"What?" he queried.

She pointed to a distant spot, in the sea. Luffy followed her finger with his eyes and saw a ship, ready to drop the anchor.

"Pirates" he murmured, "You checked their intentions? Can you do that from here?"

Y/n pulled out her knives, her eyes lighting up with anger. "I did" she uttered, "They're not welcome here."

"I understand. Let's go."

Hiii! This is the end of the second part — What is going to happen to the Sanctuary? Is the nymph going to join the Strawhats? What will happen between her and Luffy?

To find out in the third chapter, show some love to this one!🤍

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy smut #one piece luffy #one piece x reader #one piece strawhats #one piece smut

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trollsedits · 21 days

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Okay, so you all know I did Brozone Headcanon of a Vietnamese troll speaker and give you a little bit of its history so I’ll be extending on it a bit more just because I love to share my culture with other people I don’t think I appreciate my culture enough because I live in the state

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Okay, again I was saying that there is a tribe in the trolls village so far away that no trolls has ever heard of it not even Queen Barb or

Queen Poppy has ever heard of them.

They are known as the V-pop trolls (Vietnamese pop trolls) but there's not just pop Vietnamese trolls there's also Vietnamese music genres that the trolls lived in V-pop village with the Viet pop trolls.. let me explain…

(Also this is just my Oc headcanon I did do my fullest research on this if you still want to learn more fill free to look them up)

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You have the Vietnamese Folk Music Trolls: They are extremely diverse just like the folk music trolls they can be classified by their melodies,instrument and much more

Then you have your Ca trù trolls: They are a popular folk music which have begun with a female (troll) singer who is charmed her enemy with her voice and they are also known as hát co đầu or hát nói their music is through storytelling and it comes from Northern part of V-pop village

The Chấu Văn Trolls: They also came from the northern part of V-pop village they are also a traditional folk music which combines with both singing and dancing their music are super poetry and they are combine with variety of instruments,rhythm,pauses and tempos

Ah Floyd’s favorite The cải lượng Trolls: they are a reformed theater is a form of modern folk opera in V-pop village they are blended together with classical music and modern spoke drama and did I mention they can be emotional 🥹 and they are from the southern Vietnamese folk music

Thế Quan họ trolls: They are also Vietnamese folk style music and is characterized by antiphonal nature with alternating groups of females (Trolls) and male (Trolls) singers issuing musical challenges and responses

Then you have the almost well known genres the V-pop just like K-pop Trolls: They are a abbreviation of Vietnamese pop music which it was from the 1990’s to present day many young trolls would listen to V-pop also their songs are in Vietnamese like rap and much more…

Than you have the Nhạc do Trolls: They are “called the red music” is kinda similar to V-pop but their music began soon after the beginning of the 20th century during the French colonial period their music is kinda upbeat (at least that what I think I only listen to it once)

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So I have talked a little bit about the Vietnamese instrument so I decided to write down what instrument I think brozone + poppy & Viva would played…

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John Dory:

I could see him playing the đàn đày basically is a plucked lute with 3 strings with a trapezoid wooden body and a very long wooden neck w 10 rised frets

He could also Played the Dan Nguyen is a two-string southern guitar

Bruce:

I can see him playing both the Bamboo Flute and a Dan Ty La which is a Vietnamese traditional orchestra is a pear shaped like instrument which has twisted strings

Clay:

Although there’s plenty of Vietnamese traditional instruments I would see clay killing it at the đàn Tam thập lục it looks like a piano but no is a hammered dulcimer w 36 metal strings and it used in various Vietnamese music genres and drama as-well this instrument is similar to the Chinese version which is called a Yangqin

Floyd:

Being in his sensitive nature side he would crushed it at đàn bầu is a Vietnamese string instrument from the monochord zither is sounds so beautiful and calming it sometimes makes Floyd shed a tear of how smooth it sounds he would also play the bamboo flute

Branch:

That troll can play all sort of instrument but I personally think he would be good at playing the Zither it’s similar to the Dan bầu so any Vietnamese instrument you throw at him he can play it

Poppy:

She would be good at playing the Dan Ty la and also she could play the K’ni but she mostly loves to play the Dan Ty la b/c of how good it sounds

Viva:

She and clay would played the Dan tam thap luc together on their free time and she could also played the Dan bau and she’s learning how to play the Dan day

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V-POP trolls diets?

So many people would think we eat rice and fish and pho well there’s much more to just those stereotypes so is safe to assume their diets vary from different regions of V-pop village…

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Anyways there’s so much more I would like to talk about but is for another time anyways I hope you at least have some content of my oc headcanon I’ll probably talk about the fashion, Brozone +poppy and viva favorite Vietnamese food and the holiday they celebrate…

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If you want to request me anything just click on my profile and click on “Ask me anything!”

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Like + Follow are very much appreciated! ✨

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taminoarticles · 10 months

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— Tamino for Style Magazine Italia, June 2023 (x) (x)

Tamino returns to play in Italy: “The warmer the countries are, the warmer the audience"

The singer will perform at the Rocca Malatestiana in Cesena on July 4th and at the Spazio 211 in Turin on July 5th. "In Italy I always like to play," he says. But "in reality it scares me to meet too many people.” A true hero of introverts.

By Pier Andrea Canei June 15, 2023

The soundcheck is over, Alcatraz sold out, a thousand Milanese waiting to see the star of the evening: the Belgian-Egyptian singer Tamino. He relaxes behind the scenes, drinks green (tea) and wears black (Armani): like a 26-year-old prince of darkness. He has gentle manners, and a voice that vibrates on a broad spectrum. From the dark depths (the school is the one that goes from Leonard Cohen and Jacques Brel to Jeff Buckley and the alt-rock genre called “shoegaze”: emo tones, monochord guitars) to an angelic falsetto.

Soon, Tamino will go out there on stage and, without doing ballets or stepping on flowers, almost motionless except for when he holds his oud (a lute of the Arab tradition), he will attract attention. He is hieratic, with the charisma of a crusader of introverts, quiet people, and young romantic heroes; what allowed him to create a following that goes from [sic], (Colin Redwood [sic], former bassist of Radiohead, left Thom Yorke's group to follow him through studios and tours) up to the Arab world, from which it takes up sounds and instruments.

Tamino: Style's interview

Amir, the title of your first album and your middle name, means "prince" in Arabic. Were you raised as a little prince?

Well, I don't think so. Princes lead a very controlled life, lots of rules, discipline. I had a free childhood.

For the idea of calling you Tamino, like the young prince in Mozart's Magic Flute, we should thank your mother, Eva (de Pauw, anthropologist, hobby musician, passionate about cultures). What was it like growing up in Belgium?

Inspiring in many ways: lots of good art, music, art movements. From the Surrealism of René Magritte, to the music of Tom Barman's dEUS, a band that has opened many doors to the alternative scene. Then there are the negative sides in the social culture: in Belgium we tend not to value the potential of others... We are made like this, we like to see ourselves laying low, leveling ourselves up.

You realized this as soon as you finished compulsory school and left to study music in Holland.

It was an enlightening and difficult experience. From cool Antwerp designers to Amsterdam street style. Two hours by train and you land in another world. I wanted to shake off the provincial part of Belgium.

Habibi: I needed love

And your first hit song was born right in Amsterdam, in 2017: Habibi ... an Arabic and universal word of love.

You can say it to your loved one, to good friends, but also to a waiter: “Come here habibi, bring me a coffee”... Well, during the first days in Amsterdam I was depressed, very lonely, it was difficult to find human ties. I was looking for warmth, love: that piece came from there.

Of that vagueness that generates universality...

I think back to a title from the Talking Heads: Stop making sense. When you write lyrics for a song, you don't have to chase a precise meaning. Better ask yourself if your words convey the right feelings.

Typically Tamino: the yearning, the nostalgia. Songs like Indigo night: nocturnal, brooding, even melancholy. You recognise yourself in it?

I certainly tend to ruminate on things a lot. Too much...

An app to free yourself from the ego

And how do you free yourself from it?

Meditation helps. I also use a specific app, Waking Up: Beyond Meditation. Ten minutes a day is enough. It helps me to free myself from the ego, to feel myself a witness of thought, of consciousness. Simply necessary. More than diet or physical training.

Sahar, the title of the second and most recent album, means "at the crack of dawn."

For me it is already part of the past: the last words I sing are “before I step into darker days”...

That is: “Prima d'inoltrarmi in giorni più oscuri.”

I mean: before facing new torments, new struggles. What helps you grow is discomfort. That's the challenge. Never be afraid to step into the unknown.

Out of the comfort zone...

I like spending some time in New York. I stay out of my own comfort zone, it's not comfortable for me. And doing so inspires me.

Lone sailor

In the video for Sunflower, a duet with the singer Angèle, you have the air of a romantic hero. Do you want to act?

In that video I enjoyed interpreting, even without lines, this figure of the lonely sailor. This was an idea from the director. I've only done a little theater and at most a few sailing trips with friends.

Would you be a testimonial for a perfume?

Well, yes, under the right conditions... For example, a prestigious operation like the Bleu de Chanel campaign with Gaspard Ulliel, with that spot directed by Martin Scorsese.

A spot that stylises the clichés of a rock star life: glamorous places, flashes, meetings with crazy people...

In reality it scares me to meet too many people. I'm a very lonely guy. Even though I’m finding it easier and easier for me to make connections lately, I steer clear of glam dinners or events.

Then you spends the whole summer on the road

I have fun at festivals. My favourite is Into the Great Wide Open, on the island of Vlieland, Holland: 10,000 people, zero cars, music, love and kindness.

Your summer also includes two Italian stages.

I always like to play in Italy. The warmer the countries, the warmer the audience.

I live in Türkiye

Who knows in the Middle East, or in Africa.

We do the biggest lives in Turkey: crazy crowds. And Egypt is like coming home: you feel that for the people it is more than just a concert.

Your surname is famous in Egypt. Your grandfather Muharram Fouad was a musical star, your father started out as a performer.

It's like an Egyptian dynasty of music. A fun fact about me being a huge Lord of the Rings fan is that I've always felt like Aragorn, the legitimate heir to the Elven throne, who travels incognito. Nobody ever knows who he is. I felt like this growing up in Belgium. It was never talked about, nor was there much money, and that side of the family has only emerged now that I'm better known.

Who among the main names would you bring next to you at the festival of your dreams?

I don't even know if I would put myself among the top names... I'd like Anouar Brahem, Tunisian, master of the oud. And then something electronic, maybe the Aphex Twins. And I dream of working with Massive Attack.

Many festivals. But never a festive song?

I should write one first. But generally gloomy, tenebrous things come out to me.

Let's say you sing one happy song and save the world; which one do you choose?

I don't know if a happy song could save the world. Lou Reed's Walk on the Wild Side?

The height of happiness.A matter of feeling: a song can be sad in itself, but make you feel good. A glimmer of hope, an air of comfort. It can wrap you in emotions. Maybe you're sad, and that's okay: because you feel alive. A song full of life: well, for me it will always be a good song.

#tamino #tamino amir #style magazine italia #article #interview #italian #2023 #with photoshoot #english translated text #huge thanks to gipgio sending me the article and editing the english translation!! :D #i'm very glad that they posted the interview text online for free #but if anyone has the magazine itself and could kindly send me photos/scans of his article so we can see the photos and layout i would be #extremely grateful!!

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dustedmagazine · 4 months

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Dust Volume 9, Number 12

James Elkington

Last Dust of the year and, holy cow, next year will be a whole decade since we started. We’re working with a bit of skeleton crew this time because of the holidays, but still managed to take in a broad spectrum of music, from famous novelists on holiday to monochord droners to surprisingly joyful takes on saudade. Dusted writers who shrugged off Christmas shopping, wrapping and general festivity long enough to write included Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Ian Mathers and Bryon Hayes. Happy new year and see you in 2024.

Gabriel Birnbaum—Nightwater/all the dead do is dream (Western Vinyl)

Gabriel Birnbaum, leader of the indie band Wilder Maker and one-time saxophonist in the ethio-jazz Debo Band, started making music on a Tascam four-track during the pandemic. It was, at first, a way to keep busy, to keep the dread at bay, but it evolved into a regular meditative practice and, eventually, a public-facing recording project, now releasing on the esteemed Western Vinyl imprint. This second release under the Nightwater banner is, as all that history suggests, a serene and unruffled piece of work, using mostly synthetic textures but also incorporating some rougher, more organic sounds. “above a forest with a house that’s on fire” pulses with bright keyboard tones that blow up unexpectedly into dissonance periodically. It moves deliberately, placidly, from here to there, letting sustained tones linger over insistent cadences. “i ordered a beer that never came,” is a bit livelier, with claves-ish clicks and percolating guitar; it dances a bit and flares into jazzy bravado. Some of these cuts have a dream-like aura, like the child’s wind-up lullaby “through a gauntlet of moonlit junk” with its sliding, morphing guitar notes, arcing over bell-tone intricacies. This is an album that works best in darkness and calm; use it as background music and it will disappear.

Jennifer Kelly

Max Eastley / Terry Day / John Butcher—Angles of Enquiry (Confront)

It would be easy to focus on the personally and sonically idiosyncratic aspects of this recording. Given that it’s just one string on a block of wood Max Eastley’s monochord has a spectacularly flexible sound bank; sometimes he sounds like a Vietnamese dan bau, and other times like a reportable manufacturing safety incident. Terry Day’s drumming manages to combine a respect for space with a brisk harshness that keeps things on point; rumor has it that he was not enamored of the drumkit that was supplied to him, and there’s certainly no kindness in his audible touch. And John Butcher’s saxophone playing is, as usual, adroit and immaculately controlled while inhabiting a realm of sounds that others imitate at their peril. But what keeps me coming back to this humble CD-r, which is part of the Confront label’s Core series of new recordings of improvised music, is the way this music feels simultaneously sudden and proportional. The three minds that imagined this music are not only responsive improvisers, but a formidable compositional collective.

Bill Meyer

James Elkington—Me Neither (Important)

James Elkington is an exceptional guitar player, the top-of-list sideman for Wilco and Richard Thompson and an accomplished and fluid folk-indie songwriter, whose agile picking is matched by a sardonic lyrical wit. Me Neither showcases the former, but not the latter, in a series of 29 short, improvised pieces Elkington recorded during the pandemic. There is some lovely playing here in the brief but radiant “Today’s Dictation,” the Brit-folk pavane of “The Incredible Waist of Time,” the buzzy, squeaky urgency of “Where For Do I Run.” Indeed, these cuts are, to a one, rather beautiful for the one or two minutes in which they flare and die. Even, so the overall result is unsatisfying. It’s like making a meal out of happy hour hors d'oeuvres, each bite tasty and caloric, but fleeting.

Jennifer Kelly

Neil Gaiman and the FourPlay String Quartet—Signs of Life (Instrumental)

“Mobius Strip” is an intricate bit of musical machinery. Its pizzicato architecture meshes like sparking gears; its winding violin melody careens wildly over prickly structures. It neither recedes nor predominates over Neil Gaiman’s spoken word, fitting neatly in the spaces he leaves in a fascinating, ruminative story about the twisted paper ring that stands in for eternity. The piece is that most difficult of verbal maneuvers, the extended metaphor, which Gaiman sticks like a gymnast’s landing. His starts with Gaiman’s grandfather demonstrating how you can trace your finger along its surface, traveling from one side to the other without ever breaking contact. It becomes a way of looking at life, connection and the unexpected. As Gaiman concludes, “It’s the twist that brings you back where you started.” “Mobius Strip” is maybe the best and most impressive cut from Signs of Life, but not by much. Joan of Arc makes a disruptive reappearance in raucous, “The Problem with Saints,” while “Credo” recounts Gaiman’s free-thinking philosophy against the throb of mournful cello and viola. There are long extinct animals and barely remembered life turning points and a meditation on death, all spirited and inventive and absolutely without sentimentality. You will hear the words first—you can’t help it—but as you listen, you’ll also notice how well the music supports and nourishes the poetry.

The music on this disc comes from what was intended as a one-time collaboration between celebrated sci-fi/fantasy author Neil Gaiman and Australia’s hippest string quartet. The author’s knotty, reflective spoken word entwined with the FourPlay String Quartet’s spare, rhythmic accompaniment first for a commission at the Sydney Opera House’s Graphic Festival. It went so well that the artists recorded it, had it illustrated and released it as a book, e-book and CD—they have since performed it in New York and London. It is a marvelous piece of work, odd and unsettling, bent and beautiful. I’m not much novelists in rock bands, generally, but this is different.

Jennifer Kelly

Peppermint Moon—Pocket Dial Tears (Self-Released)

Peppermint Moon makes a jangly, mildly psychedelic power pop that might, in other decades, be regarded as Paisley underground. A one-man project of Colin Schitt, who also plays in El Radio Fantastique. Pocket Dial Tears works the tuneful, happy-sad vein of Anton Barbeau, the Lilys and the Young Fresh Fellows, with well-shaped melodies made for staring wistfully out of windows. “I Thought I Knew” lays yearning, reverberating surf guitar licks atop bittersweet, rain-through-sunshine verses; the song has a drifting, musing propulsion, its wry confessions and fiery guitar solos evoking Steve Wynn & the Miracle 3. “Day to Day” pivots more delicately on a music box melody, whammied guitar notes vibrating in the ether around the verse and a little bit of string romanticism swooping in at the interstices. “He She They” is maybe the best of the lot, a lament about being misunderstood spun out into baroque pop grandeur.

Jennifer Kelly

Polyorchard — scree/n (Trip Ticks Tapes)

scree/n is a single, multifaceted improvisation, recorded remotely by an illustrious crew and extending without break for an hour and 20 minutes. David Menestres solicited contributions from Gastr del Sol-into-Black Faurest mainstay David Grubbs, Exploding Star Orchestra’s Jeb Bishop on trombone and experimental saxophonists Laurent Estoppey and Catherine Sikora, a passel of experimental composers and out-there bassist Ollie Brice, then pieced them together in a composition that feels somewhat episodic but not incohesive. It starts in the frayed blowing, a saxophone tone split into two pieces, full of air. This whispery invocation fades, and then the music starts to dance then, another sax (or maybe the same one) kicking out in blowsy frolic, then settling to buzz again. Now a bit of percussion enters in, now a subdued screech of feedback builds in the background. Blasts of noise hammer through contemplative intervals of saxophone. A tune emerges and disappears into buzz and squawk and rumble. A roiling surf wave of noise that maybe comes from an acoustic bass played unconventionally squalls amid rattling knocks on wood. Still the sax persists in making a song out of things, fluttering and beckoning and flirting back at you over one shoulder as it saunters into the maw of things. At the half hour mark you begin to hear David Grubbs in lucid, lyrical chords, placed at wide intervals like wickets on a croquet course that the sax must thread through. Explosive noise erupts and just as suddenly recedes. Serene and unhurried, but somehow also full of sturm and howl, scree/n is a perfect metaphor for our age’s listless anxiety, our ceaseless striving to make sense and beauty out of accumulated sensory inputs.

Jennifer Kelly

Nicole Rampersaud — Saudade (Ansible Editions)

The Portuguese word saudade has no direct translation to English but evokes a complicated mixture of emotions: deep sorrow, wistfulness, longing for a past that brought joy. Toronto composer/improviser and trumpeter Nicole Rampersaud’s debut solo outing complicates matters in that it revels in moving forward and pushing against boundaries. Shards of digital noise hold equal weight to her trumpet intonations, raw breath, puckering and clucking. There’s an immensity at play as the elements interact. Multiple layers pile onto the fray that Rampersaud provokes, such that she conjures a nervous energy. The sparks fly, and her trumpet lines weave around the nests of glowing particles, hoping to avoid catching fire. Perhaps she’s avoiding her own sense of saudade by outpouring such rich and spirited compositions. Regardless, Rampersaud’s music mirrors the complex nature of the term, rather than the literal emotions that lie beneath it. It’s we listeners who end up reaping the benefits, so this writer isn’t complaining.

Bryon Hayes

Andreas Røysum Ensemble — Mysterier (Motvind)

Mysterier (in English, Mysteries) is the third album by Norwegian clarinetist Andreas Røysum’s biggish band, which is populated by musicians who lead or are members of other bands on the Motvind roster. The label’s name translates to Headwind, whose diverse endeavors present an art-as-activism stance, and the album covers depicts the ensemble tying up Uncle Sam and deposing the Monopoly Man whilst dressed in fairytale drag. The music is correspondingly defiant and optimistic, marshalling celebratory grooves, folk melodies and free-ish horn solos to fight the powers that be. Singer Sofie Tollefsbøl’s two turns at the microphone tip the balance towards an English folk vibe, and the grandeur attained by their arrangement of “Barbara Allen puts the rest of the album in the shade. But if Steeleye Span dancing with Organic Music Society at the protest sounds like your vibe, you’ll want to hear the whole thing, which is available on download, vinyl, and green-faced, short-run compact disc.

Bill Meyer

Spanish Love Songs — No Joy (Pure Noise)

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The emotional arc between Spanish Love Songs’ last album and this one can be summed up by going from “my bleak mind says it’s cheaper just to die” to “you're not a cautionary tale/so don't you vanish on me.” The sonic one, meanwhile, comes with the Springsteenian synth backing that accompanies the latter song. Dylan Slocum and the rest of the band are still grappling with oppression both economic (“Clean-Up Crew”) and spiritual (“Rapture Seeker”), and with existentially paralyzing levels of depression (“I’m Gonna Miss Everything,” “Middle of Nine”). But the hard-won perseverance they’ve developed has clearly stuck with them and grown in strength. No Joy is less singularly pummelling, but it more than makes up for it by seamlessly folding in the influence of the band’s new wave and Americana forebears. Just as the February 2020-released Brave Faces Everyone accidentally fit the rest of that extremely dark year perfectly, No Joy feels like the right record for 2023; harrowing, but in a different way.

Ian Mathers

Tacoma Park — What About a Collage? (self released)

You could excuse Carrboro, NC duo Tacoma Park if they’d decided to rest on their laurels for the rest of 2023. Their self-titled second album, released in April, could be fairly considered a triumph (it was here at Dusted, for one), the culmination of years of adjusting to a new, pandemic-related creative practice, which also generated a series of singles (which they collected this September). That’s a productive year. Instead, Ben Felton and John Harrison have given us all this 40-minute new single. The title probably refers more to their taste in album art than the nature of “What About a Collage?” itself, because this is a pretty focused journey. It starts out a little more on the bleepy-bloopy end of things before whisking the listener off to a space where it feels like Ash Ra Tempel is playing around with Mountains. Eventually the whole thing ends with some beautiful interplay between what sounds like synthesized woodwinds and some plangent guitar. Good to hear that their lengthy, labyrinthine album doesn’t appear to have come anywhere close to tapping out their creativity.

Ian Mathers

Trespass Trio Featuring Susana Santos Silva — Live In Oslo (Clean Feed)

This summit between the Swedish Trespass Trio and the commanding Portuguese trumpeter, Susana Santos Silva, was recorded in 2018 and released in 2023. While the date span might suggest that it’s release was instigated by COVID-time shelf-cleaning, it takes just a few seconds to hear that the quality of the music was not a factor in the delay. The trio, which comprises baritone/sopranino saxophonist Martin Küchen, bassist Per Zanussi, and drummer Raymond Strid, brings a sequence of flexible tunes that encompass the slow-motion dirges roiled with turbulent rhythmic undercurrents and instant, combustible exchanges. Santos is right there with them, darting and jabbing during the fiery moments and amplifying the tragedy of the slow passages. The set was only 32 minutes long, so that’s what you get, but it’s quite enough for music of such conviction.

Bill Meyer

#dust #dusted magazine #gabriel birnbaum #jennifer kelly #max eastley #bill meyer #james elkington #neil gaiman #four-play string quartet #peppermint moon #polyorchard #nicole rampersaude #bryon hayes #Andreas Røysum #spanish love songs #ian mathers #tacoma park #trespass trio

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beattopia · 1 year

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Monochords being polished. #huonpine #blackwood #monochords #soundhealing #meditation #shellac (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck9t0qCyBLe/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#huonpine #blackwood #monochords #soundhealing #meditation #shellac

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anthony-layde · 7 months

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monochord of Pythagoras

#vintage #skethes #music theory

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everlastingfable · 1 year

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Who even is Mark Smeaton? *runs*

omg anon are you sure you wanna ask this?

short answer: he's a bard from the 1530s who was in king henry viii's court and at the age of 24-ish confessed to committing adultery with queen anne boleyn, leading to his execution as well as the execution of anne and four other lords in her circle. but he most likely lied

long answer: mark smeaton (last name probably originally smet or smedt) was from flanders and later moved to england. he was a commoner, and the people in the royal court did not let him forget that. he originally worked under cardinal wolsey teaching choir boys, but was later transferred to king henry's court in the early 1530s when henry was doing his church of england thing. mark was quoted to be a "very handsome young man", "one of the prettiest monochord players", and "the deftest dancer in the land"

very little is actually known about him, except that he was getting paid very well by the king and queen. in less than two years his yearly salary nearly doubled (going from modern day £750 to £1250), and that doesn't even include the bonuses he received from them. to the point where he was able to afford expensive horses, clothes, liveries, etc. the horses alone were worth more than three times his yearly salary. he supposedly also had land and servants of his own. he was the court's sugar baby and some lords hated his attempt to social climb

we know he received a manuscript of two poems from viscount rochford. inside is inscribed "this book is mine, george boleyn 1526" and underneath "a moy, m. marc sn" which directly translates "to me" but basically "mine"

he was a favorite of anne boleyn and was probably in love with her. his downfall started when he was standing outside of anne's apartment window looking sad. anne asked him what was wrong and he replied that it was "no matter" she then chastised him for wanting her to speak to him as if he's a nobleman. he's a commoner and he should be glad she's speaking to him at all. he replied "no, no, madam. a look sufficeth, thus fare you well."

this conversation was reported to thomas cromwell (the king's secretary) who invited mark to his house for "entertainment" but it was a ruse. no one knows exactly what happened that night. most sources say he was tortured. but the next day mark confessed to sleeping with the queen along with four other men, all of whom were part of her circle. mark was the only one of the five men to confess and plead guilty.

he probably lied as the dates he gave didn't match up. the days he said he slept with the queen, she was somewhere else entirely.

he and the four men were executed in tower hill. despite being a commoner, he was beheaded (the nobleman's death) instead of hung and quartered. supposedly for his cooperation with cromwell and his crew. he was the last of the men to get beheaded and was described to have stumbled back when he saw the bloody scaffold and said "masters, I pray you all pray for me, for I have deserved the death"

he was buried in the tower of london in either where the building for the crown jewels are being displayed or behind the chapel royal of st peter ad vincula

I think he's the most fascinating person to have ever existed and is the definition of "I'm here for a good time not a long time"

#help I'm so obsessed about him #asks #anonymous #long post #this doesn't even get into the wolf hall depiction of him and joey batey #wolf hall #tudor history #mark smeaton

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