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morbidly-malicious-muffins · 4 years

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What Kind of Music Slashers Would Vibe to Headcanons♪

This little thing popped into my head. Fyi, the canon timelines are thrown out the window for this so... Yeah.

Bring forth the bop~

RZ Michael Myers

"Let my weapons be your children, let my armies be your damned. Try to suffer on in silence, try to stop me if you can." --- This Cold Black by Slipknot

I think he'd really enjoy metal in general. I can totally see him unknowingly stomping to some Marilyn Manson and Meshuggah, though the lyrics and message probably will just fly over his head.

He listens to some heavy shit, but probably all the more mainstream bands/artists.

The loudness and organized chaos of the genre fills the void in his soul and reflects the state of his mind, despite his stoic and non-verbal outer demeanor.

Someone please do everyone a favor and introduce Michael to some death metal. Admit it, it really fits his aesthetic.

This is just based on speculation, but I suspect a 70% possibility of RZ Michael resonating with Cannibal Corpse. Fight me.

He hates classical music with a burning passion. Back in Smith's Grove, they played Bach's Air Sul G on tap. (its canon in the first movie lmao) He hates it. Mikey no likey.

Freddy Krueger

"No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it, nobody's gonna mess me around." --- Highway to Hell, by AC/DC

Freddy listens to classic rock, period.

This guy is ngl a supporter of music taste discrimination. You listen to pop? Disgusting. You listen to Jazz? Disgusting. Classic rock is the epitome of all music.

He'll call you music-related slurs you never knew existed.

As stubborn adamant as Freddy is, he does harbor some guilty pleasures, including 70's hair metal and glam rock. Pshh. What a heckin hypocrite.

Some of his all time favorites are Guns N' Roses, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and AC/DC.

(Basic bitch)

*Hip thrust movements to go with his 'The Sprinkler' dance moves, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses blasting in the background*

OG Michael Myers

He doesn't listen to music, but if he did, he would probably enjoy Jazz.

Michael only listens to Miles Davis because he enjoys his music and can't be bothered to discover more artists.

Oml Michael I know Miles Davis is amazing but don't neglect other iconic artists plzzz. Someone please make him listen to some Teddy Wilson and/or Dave Brubeck.

I imagine him sitting stiff-straight on a rocking chair (he just likes how it moves), knife in his lap, rocking and zoning-out relaxing to 'Blue in Green'. (I love that piece)

#AfterHeFinallyKillsLaurie

#RetirementGoals

He also hates classical music because of the same reason as RZ Myers. Seriously, if either of them so much as hears the opening chord of Air Sul G, expect the speaker to be stomped to a pulp in a split second.

Bubba Sawyer

Alright let's all be honest with ourselves... 70's pop and country is Bubba's shit.

Look me in the face and tell me he wouldn't adore ABBA, The Jackson 5, and Dolly Parton. Thats right you can't

Everytime 'Dancing Queen' starts playing on the radio, Bubba will drop everything and start busting down.

Ain't nothing and nobody stoppin him. Drayton is powerless against the supreme sovereignty that is ABBA.

But let's also appreciate the fact that our Bubster can motherfuckin get down. *wipes sweat from forehead + heart eyes*

He would also do passionate lip sync with his heart and soul, to Dolly Parton's 'I Will Always Love You'.

50% chance of him starting to cry right after he finishes his earnest performance.

*Holding Bubba in your arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he bawls hysterically, incoherently babbling on about how much he loves you*

I also feel for some reason he'd really like Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

Thomas Hewitt

"For one moment, I wish you'd hold your stage, with no feelings at all. Open minded, I'm sure I used to be so free." --- Citizen Erased by Muse

Y'know what I have a hard time imagining the type of music Tommy listens to. Kutos, Mr. Hewitt, you have defeated me.

siKE

(This is where I yeet the timeline out of the window y'all)

Thomas enjoys Muse, Evanescence, and Radiohead. (Fight me)

He just loves how emotional their songs are. He'd have one earbud in as he works away at his projects for hours. The music helps him concentrate, it is also a source of emotional support to him.

Hearing the heart-wretching lyrical content of 'Lost in Paradise' performed so beautifully by Amy Lee's angellic voice is really comforting to him. It's like hearing about another person's experiences. It makes him feel less alone in dealing with his emotional and mental turmoils and burdens.

The first time Thomas heard 'Creep' by Radiohead, he almost cried.

He also listens to My Chemical Romance sometimes. He only knows the Black Parade album, but he loves it. If 'Creep' didn't make him cry, listening to that entire album from top to bottom sure did. He started sobbing half-way through 'Famous Last Words'.

Tommy is emotional boi 🥺

Brahms Heelshire

C l a s s i c a l

No matter how stinky Brahms is, you can't tell me that he's not classy.

Schubert is his bitch. Schubert's style tends to be quite majestic and/or dreamy, (generally) and can change color/sound very abruptly yet appropriately. (This is just my opinion based on experience with Schubert's pieces, but then I only know his piano pieces soo) (let's still cue that maestoso to scherzando transition)

But of course, Schubert isn't the only thing he listens to. He prefers the romantic period, so Mendelssohn, Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Shostakovich, Brahms, Schumann, you get the gist, all the staples. Oh yeah Elgar too. To be a proud English lad.

*Brahms swaying in the living room with the grace of a baby giraffe, engrossed in the beautiful melodies in Schumann's Kinderszenen.*

(Oml please check out 'Von fremden Landern und Manschen' and 'Kind im Einschlummern') (For those who play piano, they aren't that difficult too totally recommend) (Ok sorry I'm done now)

Brahms would totally waltz around alone to Chopin's waltzes and nocturnes.

Oh yeah apart from that classy shit, he likes to jam to meme songs.

"Hey now, you're an all star, get your game on, go play---"

*cut to Brahms passionately fortnite dancing*

Listens to The Strange Man Who Sings About Dead Animals for a good laugh. (Please, all of his songs are gold)

Vincent Sinclair

He'll have 'emo' and 'classical' with a side of metal, thanks.

I headcanon that Vinny McWaxy is an INFJ, so the boy is likely prone to crippling existentialism. It would make sense for some aspects of his music taste to reflect that.

*cut to Vincent sitting rock-still on his workbench/stool, hands hover in mid-air, staring straight ahead, some John Cage piece playing*

You'll never hear this from Vincent but he enjoys sexy-time music. He has this whole erotic playlist he listens to while working. (Boy likes to feel sexy on the job, I respect that.)

I think its pretty much canon that Vinny loves MCR. (Hello fellow emo piece of shit 👋) His favorites are everything by them really. A hardcore fan. He used to have MCR, P!ATD, and 30 Seconds to Mars posters plastered everywhere in his workshop until he had to remove them all to add to the intimidation factor of his waxy hell for passer-bys. For the record, he is very gay for Frank Iero.

On the metal part of his spectrum is mostly classic metal, groove metal, and thrash/heavy metal.

Rammstein, Pantera, Vildhjarta, new and old Metallica, Dream Theatre, Coheed and Cambria. His bitches.

He also uses music to scare victims when bringing them down to his workshop. *cue horror movie soundtracks*

*KI KI KI MA MA MA*

Is a whore for the dramatics when in a good mood.

*Lacrimosa by Mozart plays as he makes a point to bring the wax painfully slowly down toward a drowsy and petrified victim*

A lament for your upcoming death, pitiful human.

Bo Sinclair

"The day has come for all us sinners, if you're not a servant you'll be struck to the ground." -- Beast and The Harlot by Avenged Sevenfold

Bastard boy is into dad-music™. (same)

Dad rock, classic rock, pop punk, punk rock, old school pop, his shit.

He listens to a lot of the same bands as Freddy, but Bo (generally) doesn't discriminate and explores a more diverse variety of music.

Its a fandom canon that Bo loves Avenged Sevenfold. I totally agree.

A7x is the perfect amount of cynical, political, and shred for Beauregard, (I hc that ge hates his full name so plz don't ever call him Beauregard)

He listens to the radio whenever he's at work. Whatever that might be.

Will NEVER admit it, but he thinks Vinny's music taste is dope as hell.

He'll turn off the radio just to strain his ears to listen to Vincent's music downstairs. No one will ever know that though. You don't.

Actually likes classical music too. Its not one of his main genres but there's one piece he really likes, Second Movement of Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major.

He never thought he'd enjoy this type of music. Its so.... Calm. He discovered that piece from Vinny's playlist. When he first heard it on his brother's speaker, he fell in love. It was one of the extremely rare cases in which he'd be committed enough to ask Vinny the name of the music.

Tiny shuffle for man-kind, huge fuckin step for Bo. Good job Bo, we're proud of you.

Also pleeeeeaaase message me or request stuff, I'm bored and have little inspiration 🦊

I might do a pt2 of this, since I didn't write many of the boys and gals🤷‍♀️

Also sorry if I've neglected some genres/artists (Like i've neglected non-piano classical pieces.... Bc ya girl is just a pianist), a person can't know everything😗

---Zali 🖤

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thekillerssluts · 4 years

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WILL BUTLER – Interview

How are you? How have you experienced the pandemic so far? I’m in Brooklyn and New York is remarkably chipper at the moment. I’m still aware that things might go south and we might have a second great depression, but it doesn’t feel as dire as I feared it would. It’s been a wild six months.

The work on your second solo album Generations has been directly affected. I read that some of the songs were worked out live and some were recorded during lockdown. I actually finished it right before lockdown. Coincidentally, I raced to finish it mid-March and finished it literally on the day New York closed everything down. We knew it was coming though.

How did you spend the time after then? I was still mixing the album. Time has no meaning anymore. I’ve been at home; we have young kids here and the online teaching has been intense [laughs]. We have a yard and could go outside. Nearby, there is a beautiful cemetery, so we could go for walks there. We were quite lucky and comfortable. It was strange, it was like being in a hurricane, but it was completely silent.

Talking about being a parent: You said that Generations is about your place in American history. Did having children start your thought process about that? When did you start researching the trail of your family and put it into the greater picture? For an American family, we have always been quite conscious about our history. My dad’s family has been in New England since the 17th century. They have been on the same three islands in Maine for 250 years. My mum is a harpist, a rock’n’roll pianist and jazz musician, her parents were jazz musicians, my great grandfather was a musician. I think it is very beautiful and pure to be children of musicians, of musicians, of musicians, etc. But America likes to pretend that how you are born doesn’t matter. But it is clearly not a coincidence that I’m in a musical family. It’s also not a coincidence that I own my home instead of renting, it’s not a coincidence that I’ve never been to jail… There are all these other heritages that are poisonous. People have always been unpacking, but in the last decade or so we have started to unpack collectively as a society. This has definitely been part of the way. There is a whole section of America that asks, “Where do we come from, where is this going?”

There are two sides to that, your personal family history linked to music and a more political approach thinking about social status and how your family background influences your position today. The video for your single Surrender sees you discuss the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the Black Lives Matter movement. Did you consider your political engagement and your status as a white artist in the US during your research of your family history? I never thought that critically about race until I was a grown-up. I was aware of history; I was a smart person, and I knew about the civil rights movements etc. But for the last 15 years now, Arcade Fire has been working with Partners in Health. They started as a health clinic in Haiti. Their original mission was to believe in a preferential option for the poor, they believed that poor people should have better services. As a doctor, you must see where the disease comes from in order to treat it. And in Haiti it became clear that the reasons people were dying were very much rooted in the history of slavery and the American occupation. In that context it becomes very clear how important history is in people living or dying. That was when I started really thinking about that how long you are going to live highly depends on the last 400 years. I don’t want it to be “the future is written”-pessimist, but to be aware that where we come from and where we are going is literally a matter of life and death.

Your album Generations raises many general questions in that respect and gives conversations for answers. Do you think that important questions often don’t have an ultimate answer? I believe so. I believe that answers – to the extent that we’re talking about problems we can fix in America – are rooted in collective political action. The only way to do that is conversation and compromise and moving forward together. Moving forward individually – at least in America – has always been our thing, but we are realizing that you have to move forward collectively. I think there are some concrete answers to technical questions, but even applying those has to be a discussion.

With your music you not only dive into history but also compare it to literature – with Policy being short stories and Generations being more of a novel. How is that reflected sonically? Sonically, I care a lot about bass. There is something very powerful and mystical about how the body reacts to bass. There is a dark current of bass through the record that feels like a character. It feels sometimes menacing, sometimes supportive. With the backing vocals, there is always a conversation. Sometimes, I’m conversing with a distorted version of myself and sometimes there is a room full of people. Sometimes I’m right and they are wrong, sometimes I’m right and they are wrong. There are characters that develop. To me, there are some through lines in the piece. I was happy about that because you never know until you make the actual thing.

There are different lines of moods, too. Many songs, like your single Surrender, have a very joyous sound. Still, that’s mixed with parts of desperation and honest critical reflection. Did you plan to include these contrasts or was it a natural progression while you were working on the stories of the record? I feel the lines when I close my eyes. There is an old Smokey Robinson song called “I Gotta Dance to Keep from Crying” and it’s about a breakup. But still, particularly in the last decade, where it felt like things are spinning of control and you can really get lost in that spin and chaos, that emotion is just naturally present. But you have to take a breath and focus. One thing that has always stuck with me from history is that during the Detroit Riots in 1967, within a couple of weeks and within a 20 minutes’ walk from where the riots started, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell recorded Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing, which is one the most pure and joyous songs. There’s space for both transcendence and beauty and a harsh political reality. They just naturally inhabit the same space.

Let’s talk about the recording process: Even though Generations is a solo record, it doesn’t mean you were playing or working solo, you have band members with you. This is very much a band record. I have this band since I toured Policy. My drummer is Miles Francis and my wife’s sister July Shore plays bass on a lot of things. One of their childhood friends, Sara Dobbs, used to be on Broadway and hated it and quit and I said, “You’re very talented, do you want to be in my band?”. My wife can also sing and so the five of us have played a lot of music together over the last five years. I set up a session in my basement and wanted to record some demos and see how far we could get. After a week of recording we had eight songs that weren’t done, but that were real. After that, I was like, “Oh, we have the base of a record here, we can do this!”. When we play together, there is a real communication between everyone. Probably more than half of the songs were played over the shows last summer before we recorded them to feel some energy from it.

Because of Covid-19 we might have some more months, some think even years, until everything might be back to normal for the event industry and touring. With your solo record out: was the plan to also tour it internationally and how are your plans now for the closer future? I was really devasted to not tour this fall. I was very much interested to drive around America a month before the presidential election. We were also going to Europe, maybe even Mexico and South America. I’m very sad to not do that. I don’t know when that’s going to be possible.

Thank you for the interview!

https://www.bedroomdisco.de/2020/09/will-butler-interview/

#Arcade Fire #will butler #interview #generations

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treat-your-ears · 6 years

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JS Bach: Six Sonatas for Violin and Piano

Johann Sebastian Bach: Six Sonatas for Violin and Piano

Recorded November 2010 at American Academy of Arts and Letters, New York, USA

ECM Records (2013)

Musicians:

Michelle Makarski – violin

Keith Jarrett – piano

Track List:

JS Bach 6 Sonatas for Violin and Piano BWV 1014-1019

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, the fifth child of the great Johann Sebastian Bach, declared that BWV 1014-1019 pieces are “among the best works of my dear father”. Considering the sheer quality of Bach’s compositions, that statement (albeit a little subjective) may propel BWV 1014-1019 among the absolute finest that deserve more appreciation.

These pieces were designed with violin and harpsichord in minds. However, in this yet another stellar production from ECM records, the listeners are presented with a slight twist: a modern-sounding Steinway piano instead harpsichord. Keith Jarrett might as well flipped a coin to decide which instrument to approach these pieces, considering his unparalleled expertise in both piano and harpsichord (the latter instrument was played by Mr. Jarrett in some of his earlier Bach’s recordings). But for this release, Mr. Jarrett decides the piano is the best to equip himself to accompany the excellent Michelle Makarski on violin.

In this album, Mr. Jarrett shows his sensitivity as an accomplished classical pianist. His playing texture is as clear as crystal, a precise tempo in every movement, and well-articulated. These qualities go perfectly with Ms. Makarski’s stylish flourish in every note, sweetness of melody, and crisp articulation. Together, they are not only fulfilling the respect these pieces deserve, but also breathe a new life to it.

The opening of the first sonata may sound elaborated in first listening, but as the listeners stop by to examine every second that passes, it sounds more and more complete. The quicker movements of the first sonata are something to die for, or to live by. The sheer energy, total commitment from both musicians to immerse, and technically outstanding presented are the reasons for that.

The second sonata sounds a little bit more balanced, in terms of the height and the depth of emotions (NOT the level of playing, as it is outstandingly high throughout). As if this piece is a monument, the architect was Bach and the final flourish is provided by both Ms. Makarski and Mr. Jarrett.

The third sonata ends the first disc, but it feels like the listeners have just begin their journey they have started a long time ago. The final movement of the sonata, is like the trigger of the biochemical pathway that keeps releasing endorphin. The aura becomes more energetic, full of happiness, and gratefulness.

The journey continues, nevertheless, with the fourth and fifth sonata. After listening to these particular sonatas, somehow I think of them as if a double helix. Mr. Jarrett, in one strand, gives a solid support with his exquisite playing. This complements Ms. Makarski’s gorgeous execution in the violin in another strand. Every string that is being bowed breathes new energy, delivers new information and meaning to life. This particular bond strength is not only obvious in the more rapid pieces, but instead it can be felt more intently in slower pieces (especially the first movement in the fourth sonata). Heartbreakingly beautiful. Gone is the assumption that the slower pieces act only as ‘fillers’. No, these ‘fillers’ instead are the ones that fill us with greater meaning.

The sixth sonata is the culmination of all the pieces. The energetic opener sets the right tone of excitement. The third movement of sixth sonata, the listeners are being treated by Mr. Jarrett’s solo performance. However, this is not the solo in his term, it is just a powerful and respectful rendition for Bach’s vivacious composition. The dramatic flourish of the very final movement (especially the very first note of this movement) is just the fitting end of this glorious album. Everything, every note, and every sound are in their right places.

There is no gimmick, no prior knowledge needed, no background story, nothing. What listeners need are just a pair of understanding ears. Bach music speaks for itself. The ‘words’ (or rather the ‘notes’) get more profound when the players are as technically exquisite and sensitive as Mr. Jarrett and Ms. Makarski. The music sound gets even clearer when the recording quality is as clear as ECM’s usual high standard. Simply, an art form in its highest purity.

#Music #Classical #Jazz #Keith Jarrett #Michelle Makarski #ECM #JS Bach #Bach #Six Sonatas for Violin and Piano #Six Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord #Piano #Violin

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intriguing-notion-blog · 6 years

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“Is this what I get from treating you this well?!”

As I watch my dear cousin practice everyday, putting her all into the pieces she plays, I can’t help but feel the overwhelming yet mysterious sorrow yet tinged with a hopeful outlook seep from the music of Tchaikovsky’s June: Barcarolle. I remain entranced as I listen to her weave the disjointed notes of the piano into an enchanting piece of music. The beauty of the song, the relentless effort of the pianist and the purity of the piano cannot be truly appreciated through a simple studio recording; it simply does not do the music nor the pianist not the piano justice.

However, in my deep ruminations, I find myself wondering whether or not the captivating melancholy of the piece was what brought me out of my world of words, or was it this certain human nature that coloured the notes with the heartbreaking tears of a Chinese child. The sadness of a child who balances being just a child with the stresses of being the perfect puppet for her painfully stereotypical Asian parents, be it my imagination or my innate nature to embellish things, I couldn’t help speculate that beyond the sickening overdose of pink, frills, and overwhelming materialism, a world of emotional and mental agony lay hidden from me, that what I see is simply a façade of a perfect little Chinese that has been painstakingly built and maintained by my aunt.

Memories and stories plague my mind and I find myself wanting to not believe the stereotype of Asian children that I’ve read and that my once fellow classmates and I once mockingly perpetuated, however, when I see my dear cousin, my heart breaks. I remember the several hours of shouting, the lecturing and the tearing down of her spirit by her mother, my aunt, since I arrived in China, a nation that values an excellent and impressive reputation more than anything and I find myself forced to face the harsh reality of what having true Asian parents entailed.

Unlike my cousin, I never found myself enduring any of the same treatment from my own mother or father, despite themselves being Asians. Though, during my preschooling years, my mother did have me write out the English alphabet as beautifully as my five-year-old self could muster until my hands were sore and my eyes were dry of tears, however, soon after that, there wasn’t any hint of stereotypical Asian parenting from her or my father. Yet, I am my parents’ most studious child, achieving rather high results and who loves to learn. I suppose it was because by the time I was in grade one, I discovered I couldn’t rely on my parents to help me with homework. After all, my father’s education was cut short due to the Vietnam War and my mother never finished high school, and to top it off, neither enjoyed school nor studying anyways. Perhaps it was my fear of failure that prompted me to be the best I could be and coincidentally, nurture my love for learning…at least, when it came to certain subjects. However, sometimes I would resent my parents’ inability to further nurture my learning.

During my schooling years, I watched on as fellow classmates would express irritation and exhaustion from going to and from extracurricular and tutorials, from competitions to recitals, from annexes to stages. I often felt relieved that my parents more or less were completely hands off when it came to my education, especially when I saw the detrimental impacts of their minds slowly becoming warped with the motto, “Practice makes perfect,” “I must be perfect,” “I need to get an A,” and all the other terrifyingly similar phrases brainwash them into failure-fearing students. Nonetheless, I would simultaneously feel envious and ashamed when I see fellow classmates advance in life, earning awards, experience and recognition in and outside of school because of how strict and demanding their parents were while I did nothing worthwhile in my spare time other than contemplate and daydream.

Therefore, I find myself in a position where I both worry for my young cousin’s mental and emotional health from being regularly torn down by her mother whenever she gets a mark below of an A or 85% and somewhat agreeing with my aunt on the matter of an environment that enriches a child’s learning. I don’t, however, support her method of executing it - the forceful nature, the threatening of abandonment, the unnecessary fearmongering, the emotional manipulation. The tiresome and expensive hours of tutoring after a long day at school (mind you, that the standard school day in China is relatively longer than that in the West), the extracurricular such as hours of music lessons and dance classes, on top of English classes that, from my experience, don’t quite teach students how to use English effectively - and all this is relatively normal within the lands of China, however, in the case of my dear cousin, more is expected of her as she is one of a considerable amount of young Chinese being shipped off overseas to study by their parents.

If my young cousin was a university student, I suppose she wouldn’t find it too hard, well, that if she wasn’t too concerned of her own integrity. At least then, the option of hiring someone to do the course for her would be there. Though, personally, I would find it appalling if she were to choose that route when she is in university, but for now, she isn’t. Instead, next year, if all goes according to my aunt’s plans, my cousin will be attending the either the best or second-best high school in the state I live in, in Australia.

When I asked my aunt as to why she would go to such lengths for my cousin, she simply said that it was cheaper to send her to study in Australia because it’ll help my cousin live a better life in China when she grows up. I’m sure many will understand the linear thought pattern of my aunt; better school, better university, better job, better life. However, at what cost? I’m not talking about the financial cost here, but more so the invisible cost.

Call me an overly-sensitive leftist or whatever degrading term there is for people like me, but how would this impact a child mentally? How about emotionally? And even socially?

Now, to be clear, I’m not simply picking out on the idea of suddenly sending children off to another country to finish their high schooling years; I’m referring to the Chinese, if not, Asian method of raising children. (Though, I should point out this doesn’t mean there aren’t non-Asian parents who also practice this method of parenting - it’s just that, from my observations, majority of parents who do use this method are Asians, a fact most of the world acknowledges.)

Emotionally, children are raised to think that if they aren’t great, they are worthless and/or hopeless. Mentally, children have huge expectations weighing down on them at very young ages which they are to fulfil, most of which don’t line up with their own dreams and ambitions, that is if they even have their own dreams and ambitions. Socially, well, where is the time to socialise if your life revolves around getting good grades? Now, add that to the financial costs of schooling, tutoring and extracurricular. The cost is quite staggering, I find and I haven’t even begun to count the lack of life skills these children possess who are subjected to this sort of parenting. Also, as some may add, the children of such strict and demanding parents lose out on a childhood.

Bear with me, but such things as a childhood is a relatively recent invention. Prior to the Victorian Era, the idea of a childhood didn’t exist as we know today and by the time it did, it was a concept only among the rich and wealthy, and don’t quote me on this, living in the West. However, in East Asia (maybe even the whole of Asia), I speculate, this sort of thinking never quite flourished as much or took that much of a hold until the late 20th century, be it because of the World Wars that occurred earlier in the century or the difference of cultural values.

In my humble opinion, I theorise it’s more so the difference in cultural values. In the West, individualism is upheld and everyone is accountable for themselves whereas in the East, collectivism is the core of cultural values, where the actions of one person affects the many, for example, the generational imprisonment in North Korea should one member of the family executes a treasonous action. In the West, doting on the young/new generation and then not expecting anything in return as they age is the norm due to the culture that each is responsible for their own life - this in itself, is both good and bad. However, in the East, the young/new generation is doted on beyond comprehension and is expected to somehow pay back all the kindness they were shown as children, often in the means of a financial & emotional fashion. Why this is, is because of a concept of ‘filial piety’, a concept that most who grew up without an Asian background have never heard of. Essentially, 'filial piety’ is the younger generation respecting, perhaps even to the point of serving, the older generation. It’s an idea that the older generation is responsible of the younger generation until they can no longer, in which then the roles are swapped. However, do not quote me on that. This, I think, then drills an idea into the head of the parents that they can say to their children that because they’re treating them incredibly well, they can demand the equivalent back in the form of grand grades. Consequently, if their demands aren’t met, they feel as if their threats of abandonment and/or their greatly exaggerated predictions of a terrifying and catastrophic future is justified. So, I surmise that Asian parents see their children as an investment and therefore, they reason the more they put into the children, specifically their education, the more they’ll get in return later in life, such as better life.

Personally, as much as I find the method of Asian parenting both disturbing yet beneficial, I am intrigued by it. From a sociological and psychological perspective, it’s an example of human diversity expressed through culture that I find fascinating to explore and understand. Then, as the eldest daughter of two Vietnamese-born Chinese parents, I find it to be a personal matter worth looking into, as I never had to experience it. I have a hunch it may have partly been because of my parents adoption of a strict form of Christianity prior to me starting primary school, my own studious initiative and the fact I was born in and grew up in Australia, where he academic environment isn’t as competitive as it is in Asia.

Now, I admit I am over generalising all this, perhaps even exaggerating it, but in essence, I ask myself and the world this; just how much are we willing to pay, maybe even sacrifice, to allow our children a better future? And are we willing to deconstruct the social construct we call a 'childhood’? Or will we be the generation that will reconstruct what a 'childhood’ means, as the culture of the 21st century is rapidly changing and adapting?

My conjecture is that, with changing values of modern life, society’s approach towards raising children will change dramatically in order to accommodate higher educational demands and to tackle the challenges of raising children with ever advancing technology at their fingertips. In consequence to all of the aforementioned, the traditional idea of a 'childhood’ will radically evolve and I surmise that the possibility of a new parenting style where a hybrid of the Asian method and Western values will become the new norm. And that, I find, is an intriguing notion.

So, as my cousin plays Tchaikovsky’s June: Barcarolle, I stand back and marvel at her mastery of the piano; her hands gliding across the black and white keys, playing a magnificent melody of moving melancholy and hopeful happiness. I let my thoughts mellow as I let the notes paint a beach before me, the waves gently caressing my feet as I watch the setting sun make way for an array of brilliant stars, illuminating the vast darkness that is the night sky, hoping that when the sun rises once again, my dear cousin does indeed have a bright tomorrow.

#asian parents #musings #future #culture #education #life #society #social construct #social commentary

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rexylafemme · 7 years

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si no me visitara tu imagen nocturna, jamas podria conocer el sabor del sueno

there's a reason i felt so differently between wednesday night and thursday night—seeing a beloved emerge friend's flamenco show with some emerge dears versus going to the emerge/laundromat project mixer on thursday. a profound difference in the ways we could meet each other in each space, a difference between connection versus networking. also, there was something about the actual spaces we were in, too, and what they alternately could allow for in terms of intimacy—a performance space in the basement of a church on the LES across from tompkins square park versus a crowded hipster-y bar on e. 8th st. there was nothing wrong with thursday, it just was a different vibe—more cerebral. it also brought out a different energy in me, more restless and unfocused.

during the flamenco show, it was like my physical and emotional responses were projecting outward from me in this invisible, kaleidoscopic, multidimensional landscape--different moments of experience and self criss-crossing over each other in various textures of time. i was physically present—taking in our friend's voice, watching her, being impressed by her ease and emotion, knowing her in such a different way personally than in this moment, holding space for that and thinking about what i’ve come to know of her through the program, watching the men in the band, being interested in the ways everyone moves—their bodies, their facial muscles when they play or sing, also very aware of the emerge folks and audience around me— seeing in my periphery their responses, the rapt faces, the upward-turning eyebrows responding to longing, love, dreams, pain through sound.

i have, as maybe others do, this synaesthetic subconscious impulse to attach a memory of a performance to the first, most compelling scent i experience in the space, so when i recall it later, my brain initially remembers the smell, which is something i usually can't verbally describe. but i’m very aware of it throughout whatever i’m experiencing, and i connect my feelings and the way i build the memory of the event to that scent. i can close my eyes, put myself into wednesday night and smell and feel it.

keying into the all the layers of consciousness i have obvious access to, i’m thinking back to sitting at la planeta, the love & support around me, how opened up i felt, how i had internalized a feeling that this was a space i wouldn’t ordinarily find myself in, a community of people i wouldn’t ordinarily find myself around, and yet i felt comfortable, in the right place. sometimes life moves gracefully in that way, makes you feel like you’re experiencing exactly what you’re supposed to. feeling enamored by that feeling and the support around me. our workshop instructor to my left, his sweet trickster, soft paternalism very palpable to me even in his indirect connection with me as he took in the music. m. & her niece visiting from egypt who i had an extended conversation with before the show sitting in front of me—feeling newly threaded to her, l. and n. sitting out of my view to the left, having walked in late.

& then the music itself, forgetting & remembering where i was, where i’d been, re-experiencing and newly experiencing my affiliation with flamenco and spain—these quick reels cycling through my inner vision. 12 years ago when i was in an immersion program and my mom did whatever she had to do to get me there, i had a partial scholarship but when you are poor partial is not enough so god knows how she paid for it—she wouldn’t say and i didn’t ask. i recall how lucky i am for all she’s done toward my dreams though she would deny she’s done anything.

i was drawn to flamenco’s form because of its concurrent rawness and elegance, its wild attentiveness to feeling, desire—palpable & feral, also its fluidity & craftedness. when howling is formal, when stomping is a genre imperative. the expectation for contortion, your face made ugly by the sound of your feeling. sometimes adroit fury and sometimes deliberate, slow accumulation of agile tension.

just being enchanted by a talented friend and her beauty and courage. being also quelled by the way she closes her eyes when she sings because so do i and i’ve felt self-conscious lately as i prepare to start singing in public. watching the guitarist and the way his hair cascades his face. pretty, scruffy, long-haired quiet beauty. l., n., and i all determined later we had a crush on the band as a collective and we also had our stand-alone #1 crushes and he was mine. ugh, hate/love for gorgeous men who i make no sense to and maybe more importantly make no sense to me. i was telling l. that i ordinarily would never be interested in his crush, our friend’s former teacher, he’s just so not my type, but the way he sang—his face twisting carelessly with feeling and the two-toned shakiness and clarity of his voice was oddly captivating. i guess it was his emotiveness that was attractive, how immersed he was in it, how nothing beyond that mattered and it showed. how i am generally aroused by feeling, which makes me this big gushing heart walking around, touched and kinda wounded by humanness, ugh so annoying. anyway. n. was into the virtuosic pianist who our friend kept calling guapo onstage—erratic, nervous energy, hunched over his keyboard, shuffling through his music. young and pretty and it’s clear somehow to me that he knows it and doesn’t question it, which makes his beauty considerably less interesting to me. l. said to us, “well, we have no competition! we all like different ones!” ha. there’s something about flamenco that is so sensual and erotic in these ways that are hard to describe, but are totally enveloping. and this way it draws out attraction, but in this way of psychic magnetism rather than anything related to the ways we want people egotistically. it’s not about sex, necessarily, or wanting it, or even really about wanting the musicians. it’s something more complex and intriguing than all that. i think music always brings this sense out in me.

one of the heartwarming things about their performance was how thoroughly encouraging they all were with each other and how lovingly connected—no competition or ego involved. they egged each other on, improvised palmas and pitos and oh-ing and –eyyy-ing at each other’s solo moments, infectious responses which flooded the audience, too. mutualism that spread out to us. a wave of appreciation and embodiment and improvisation that we all took part in. connection and gratitude and generous virtuosity, humble genius, love, respect. it felt familial, like we were being let in to their circle, asked to share in their experience.

simultaneously within their and our element, i was inside my own. recalling cadiz, sevilla, malaga, granada. the unbearable heat of july in landlocked sevilla—53 degrees celsius—seeing the air rise in waves off the old, old pavement. dance anyway, walk anyway, long anyway and especially, in line with the agonizing heat.

recalling why i compartmentalized that time away somewhere not to be revisited, which had everything to do with the shame of being young, queer, in love with a close friend who loved me but couldn’t claim it ,was afraid of it—who broke my heart, came to hate me for her own hatred, shunned me because she couldn’t accept her/our queerness and what we were to each other—it was very secret, weird, very classic, very all over me, very pissing in a river, very youthful lovely/tragic. could i pursue a fate so twisted, could i crawl defeated and gifted? i was also embarrassingly infatuated with two of my teachers—my spanish teacher / cross country coach in nyc and one of the co-directors of the immersion program. which, looking back, was all totally normal and not shameful at all, even if silly. more normal in the scheme of my life than being in love with betty, actually. but, also the other resonant influences—family trauma, being something other than queer, too, and the way that my queerness/trans-ness was implicated in this monstrous way through my friend’s rejection of me. the first time in my life outside of the family structure that every intimate thing i’d shared would be used against me maliciously, spread around the school, tiny pariah. the awkwardness and pain of coming into myself through this, excelling anyway. but, to deny myself of that entire time period’s memories because of the shitty parts meant i also deprived myself of this other passion that was so fully my own, independent and private and separate, which i had shared with these three people, but weren’t innately connected to them. having become fluent in spanish because of the love of the language—how it moved and how it worked, the complex histories and experiences held within the language, the cultural, political, social geographies and backgrounds attached to it, the process of humbly learning about all that, coming to greater understandings and being very grateful for it. i think during the show, i started both grieving and being brought back to that lost enthusiasm. and also realizing the privilege i had in dropping off and picking up as i wished.

i remembered something that’s been constant in my life—my ability to be very comfortably singular and myself, even when tied to someone or wanting hopelessly (& kinda to my own detriment, as i was at the time and through my childhood and adolescence, being constantly infatuated with unattainable adults/mentors/teachers as i felt very disconnected from my peers and was always weirdly friends with adults/mentors/teachers, also being attached to my precociousness--something left over from growing up around adults, treated as one, and feeling detached and/or protective of other children around me). and i thought, how cruel to myself to not value how hard i go for things that spark me--my passions just because of the associations around them, to be ashamed of who i was then because of loving people and being made to feel it was wrong or crazy, to be ashamed of how i feel deeply and can appreciate many types of people while also keeping myself, being in my own world. people strive for this singularity and ardor and it’s always been central to who i am. trying to appreciate it finally and shuck off the old shame.

enamored by cadiz, small peninsular beach city, morocco straight across the water. the music of andalucia , how tied landscape was to flamenco and the language. how tied violence and erasure were, as well. gobbling up and taking everything in—the palimpsest of the landscape—violence, resilience, colonialism, appropriation, artistry, lineage, mad hope. the immersion program i was in was not about sugarcoating or denying the truth of spain’s colonial history and present—genocide, violent misogyny, extreme racism, anti-semitism, islamophobia, homophobia, anti-roma/gitano sentiment and violence that the country was built on and still breathes through actively—it was palpable, hanging in the air, visible on the street socially among people, living in the bricks of buildings that generations of people were violently disappeared and displaced from. the thread of power through time of the catholic church in spain, too. fascism and franco. how when i was in granada, we were very close to the location where federico garcia lorca was murdered and thrown in an unmarked ditch, never found. the last gasps of fascism in spain currently (as of 2005-6) and our teachers (many of which were politically radical, some were not, many of which were queer—how lucky i was!) explaining the continuing, lingering influence of it in parts of society and culture, as nothing ever really goes away.

i remember going to a flamenco performance in a garden courtyard in sevilla late in the evening. the audience was arranged around the dancers and musicians. they danced through the aisles of us and there were dim blue floor lights lining the aisles and lights woven into trellises covered in ivy and vine plants. it was ethereal and beautiful and strange and sad. heart gushing with everything, silly infatuations, wanting to escape my family and nyc forever, yet loving them so thoroughly and feeling some sense of belonging still--poor/working class irish/italian catholic mess that we were, and betty, so similar so different, coming from a middle/upper-middle class east african and irish american catholic mess. us, that night: was i feeling preconceived loss or just hopelessness, or after-the-fact heartbreak, i don’t remember—all a wash now, all was happening at once anyway, as usual—the having and the losing. but, flamenco is all hormone rush, all torturous, longing agony, all hunger & confusion, all that teenage stuff. the simultaneity of past, present, future desire compounded and layered on each other—loving someone in real time, loving someone from a point of expected future loss—inevitable? loving someone before you know it, or before they know it, or when they sense it and you don’t or vice versa, loving someone though it’s over, trampled, or it would never begin or it made no sense, the foolishness, the invitation of suffering that loving anything brings to you. being human together. feigning indifference & requiring attention, walking toward and running away. the choices we make. how flamenco unapologetically announces all of these things and requires being fully expressive of the truth of your heart and your body, no judgment or time to analyze, and it feels cellular almost, as well as really huge. and you don’t have to be in love with an actual human or to ever have known “romance,” to know the feeling. and flamenco is expansive in its holding of romance, sexuality, eroticism—it can actually have nothing to do with being or wanting to be coupled. it’s mostly about living and feeling and suffering, loving whatever it is moves you to regardless of how perilous it can be to do so. but especially how natural and life-changing it is to do so even if it explodes.

that otherworldly experience and everyone feels it. men no less passionate or full of emotion than women, actually sometimes more so. men who can’t eat, who lose sleep for love, men who suffer. i didn’t know men like that. i knew hard men, stoic, belying emotion. women who wait and wait, who will accept love’s bare minimum, who do whatever they have to. i knew many women like that, was already that since childhood and was becoming that more as time elapsed. but also women who could destroy you, could destroy themselves because it was all too much—i was experiencing that and i was that. voices thrown across the courtyard in rageful anguish til they hit a wall and broke into a thousand sharp pieces everywhere. irrevocable.

forbidden love and feelings—every love i’d ever had or dreamed of & every love i ever would, in some sense. not fitting molds, wanting to destroy any concept of what was right or pure. but the experience of withholding, love & death & falling apart, the harm of others’ addictions & intimate violences that eat at you forever and keep your eyes narrowed at intimacy. how you know love is not an escape from these truths and shouldn’t be treated as such—how you learn to not make that mistake, but you can’t control how others act. memories whose feelings came back to my body in spain 2005, 2006 and in nyc 2017—the feelings, but not the images. i don’t really know who or what hurt me first, if the beginning matters, how all of that filters into my growing experiences with relation. details are so vivid and obvious, some are just completely burned out. and origins probably aren’t the key to the truth or to the future anyway.

flamenco bringing out the fire i set in my head. the crazy femme, the lover of everything, of home—a sense i try to find everywhere. her own house, where it all started, s/he can’t stand anymore for what it means to her history, her future. burn it down, even with its first origins of joy, its mementos of togetherness. the sickness too overwhelming and too deep. needing its influence to be taken, engulfed, extinguished. natural. the noble thing about impossible loves, right, about family and anything really—to be so dedicated and loyal. setting fire to that and striking out toward something else, loyalty only if it’s earned. to learn to say no, for what you allowed for a long time to be eaten by flames, parts of other people, parts of yourself, parts of home. the things we reproduce. to approach the unknown, newness, a whole other way of being written over what you were, while still holding the innate truths of yourself, that core sense of connection you crave between yourself and everything, over everything else. faith.

#flamenco #spain #andalusia #queerness #transness #femmes #pain #love #longing #connection #intimacy #feelings #memory #lineage #trauma #collectivity

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