#Gareth Savage head canon for life
Note
As requested, Savage sibs and birthday party.
Been a while since I did a Tumblr prompt fill! Here you go, my dear.
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“I really think it should just be me.”
“Gary, we’re a team,” Ava reminds him, bumping his shoulder with hers as they walk down the sidewalk of the suburban neighborhood. “We’re here to help out. If you need a team to talk to your sister, we can do that. You went with me to talk to my fake parents last week.”
Gary shook his head, trying not to squeeze the wrapped present in his hands. “We’re really not that close. And you really, really don’t need to be here, I mean, she kinda likes her space and she’s really private and-”
“Hey, maybe now that you’re reconnecting as adults, it’ll be easier. How long did you say it’s been since you last saw her?”
Gary nervously looked at the cracks in the sidewalk. “Uh, a long time.”
“Then showing up with a gift for your nephew? I think that’s a great start to repairing that relationship.”
“I hope so,” Gary mutters, finally finding the right house. It’s a larger house, not the biggest one in the neighborhood, but the exposed brick and garden in the front are gorgeous and well cared for. There’s a toy car in the driveway along with a small soccer goal. There’s chalk drawings of three women and a little boy, and balloons tied to the mailbox. It’s all set up for a birthday party.
Ava beams and gives him a thumbs-up as he rings the doorbell. There’s no sound of footsteps at all until the door opens and a woman with a red-dyed undercut and shiny bracelets opens the door. She’s not as tall as Gary but from the fire in her gaze he’s the one that has to meet her eyes with an awkward smile. “Scandal. Hey.”
Gary’s sister, Scandal, stares at him for a moment. Then she looks at Ava, then looks at the gift in Gary’s hands, then back at Gary. “Gareth.”
“Actually, it’s Gary n-”
“Who’s that with you?”
“Oh, this is Ava. She’s my best friend. And my coworker.”
Scandal stares them both down for another solid minute, before her face melts into a smile. The sunlight glints off two wedding rings on her hand. Ava relaxes. Gary doesn’t. “Oh. Gary. Hi. Nice to see you. Is that for-”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s for Felix, actually.”
“Felix.” Scandal repeats, still smiling. “My son.”
“Yeah, my nephew. Thought, uh, thought he’d like a stuffed penguin.”
“That's nice,” Scandal nods. She pulls the door the rest of the way open, invites them both into her foyer. “Party’s happening out in the living room, come on.”
Gary and Ava follow behind Scandal as they wander through the foyer of the big house, littered with pictures of Scandal and two redheads and a red headed little boy. Said redheads and little boy are on the floor of the living room, streamers all over the windows and wrapping paper all over the floor. A large muscular man sits in a recliner, his arms folded as he studies the party before him like he’s never been to one before. On the overstuffed couch, a woman is leaned across two men, her back propped up with a pillow as she pushes another present closer. The man in the middle has an arm around the man on the end, and the man on the end is in the middle of eating a slice of cake. The taller redhead on the floor beams as the little boy unwraps a book on zoo animals, ruffling his hair. Scandal clears her throat and everyone looks up. Everyone’s smile looks confused, Ava notices.
The little boy is oblivious to it, holding up his book. “I got a book, Mamá!”
“I see, kiddo,” Scandal smiles, her hand reaching up to squeeze Gary’s shoulder. “Maybe Floyd can read it to you later.”
“Sure,” the man eating cake says through a mouthful of frosting. He’s setting his plate on the side table. “Who’s the dynamic duo, boss?”
Scandal smiles wider, squeezing Gary’s shoulder harder. “Everyone. This is my little brother, Gary.”
The room goes dead quiet and it freaks Ava out how suddenly everyone is now glaring at them. What’s she told them? What could be so bad? It’s GARY, for crying out loud.
The shorter redhead gets up, taking Felix’s hand. “Hey, sweetie, let’s go get more cake.”
“CAKE!” the little boy shrieks in delight.
“Thanks, Liana. Kay and I’ll be there in a second,” Scandal nods, watching her wife lead their son out. Kay, the other redhead, slowly rises to her feet. Ava has to crane her neck; she’s at least seven feet tall.
Gary’s still smiling because it’s what he’s best at. “Hi, everyone.”
Scandal moves from gripping Gary’s shoulder to wrapping an arm around his neck, a very forced sibling move of appreciation. “And this is Gary’s coworker, Ava. Do you know where Gary works, guys?”
Scandal and Gary have perfect fake smiles, as though they’ve practiced them for years.
“Gary and Ava work for the federal government,” Scandal continues, her teeth showing. “Under Waller, right?”
A sharp metal blade comes out of her bracelet and rests across Gary’s throat. He doesn’t look nearly as surprised as Ava is, who turns to look at the birthday crowd and watches everyone pull guns and knives out of the couch and chairs and point them at both of them.
Scandal hisses her next sentence. “What the fuck are you doing here? On my son’s birthday? How do you even know about him?”
“Scandal, it’s not what you think. I don’t even work for Waller anymore! I got transferred to a different department. But then the department got dissolved so now I-”
“He’s stalling,” the man with frosting on his lips says, pointing a gun at Ava. “Answer her or it’s nonlethal organs to start with.”
Gary looks far too calm for this. Ava moves to pull him away but Kay grabs her, pulls her arms behind her back and holds her. Ava struggles but it’s like nothing for Kay.
A body leans down from the chandelier, frosting on their face. “What's all the excitement?”
“It’s fine, Doll,” the woman on the couch says, knives in both hands. “Just a few new piñatas for the party is all.”
“Scandal, I’m not here to arrest you or threaten you!”
“Then what do you want?”
Gary manages to wave the present. “I don’t know, see you? I haven’t seen you in 15 years, maybe now would be a good time to start. It was 50 years before then, I don’t want it to be that long again.”
“How do you know about Felix?”
Gary sighs. “Do you believe me if I say time travel?”
Ava is horrified that Gary just brought their job up in the group of weirdos, but Scandal actually relaxes for a second. “Wait. Is this about that Rip Hunter project?”
“He died.”
“That doesn't surprise me,” Scandal sighs, finally letting go. She waves her hand for her friends to put their weapons down. They do. “Moron appeared out of nowhere with an offer for a ‘special job.’ That's how you get killed. What happened to him?”
“Long story,” Gary waves the thought away. Ava is still trying to catch up.
Wait… 50 years?
“So can we stay? Just for a little bit.”
“You still with the feds?”
“Uh… no. Not anymore.”
Scandal nods, taking a seat on the floor to start cleaning up wrapping paper. Kay lets Ava go, stumbling in surprise. Gary puts the present with the huge pile of other wrapped gifts.
“At least it’s just you,” Scandal tells him, shoving ribbon in a trash bag. “If Bishop showed up he’d be a stain on the carpet.”
Ava’s jaw drops open. Gary laughs nervously, wipes the back of his neck. “About that, actually…”
#gary green#legends of tomorrow#scandal savage#secret six#Gareth Savage head canon for life#secret six would have been fun for the legends to meet
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SKIN DEEP—a fic
So Rainbow had a pretty funny exchange on Twitter yesterday about the Watford crew and teenage acne, and in particular if Baz would have acne. Which she said he most certainly would. So, being me, I had to go write a fic about it. Because I have no chill and even less self control. So here is a slightly crack-y fic, set at pre-canon era Watford, as hormones start to surge and Simon becomes pimple obsessed.
Screen shots of Rainbow’s tweets at the end of this post, to prove this lunacy had a real life prompt.
Simon and Baz fourth year, as the ravages of adolescence commence. Pimples, blemishes and spots. Questionable concoctions. The roots of Baz’s immaculate skin care regimen. Some things even a vampire can’t avoid.
Skin Deep
Year Four
Simon
I’m just about to splash water on my face when I notice them in the mirror. I mean, I’ve been expecting this to happen. I saw the older boys go all spotty at the homes. There’s no way I’d be lucky enough to be spared.
But fuck it all. I’ve got one on the side of my nose, two on my chin and one right between my eyebrows. How did I get all these pimples in one night?
I’m half tempted to think Baz spelled me. But that’s not his style, he doesn’t sneak about doing something like this, even though he’s a prick and a plotter. No, he did things like this when we were first years, but now when Baz spells me he wants everyone to know what he’s done.
Makes a production of it, the wanker.
Like when he knocks my boater off. Spells my shoes untied during class, so I trip when I stand up. Or seals the lid on the butter dish at breakfast.
If Baz was going to spell me spotty he’d do it in on a Monday, right before class, when everyone would notice. Not in our room, on a Saturday morning, when we’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to go.
He’s still asleep so if he did do it, it must have been in the night and really what would be the bloody point of that?
I have to reluctantly admit it’s probably not him this time. It’s me. I was just hoping this particular stage of puberty would just pass me by.
The other milestones have been coming one right after another though, so I guess I’m not that lucky.
I’ve got hair in more places now.
And I grew three inches this summer (Baz grew four, the tosser, so he’s still taller than me).
He’s taller but it’s like he fits in his body. Glides when he walks. Smooth as silk on the pitch. Bloody infuriating, is what it is.
I feel like a marionette on a string, my arms and legs all out of sync, knocking into furniture and tripping over my own feet, even when my shoes are tied.
And my voice has been doing that stupid thing where it gets all deep mid-sentence, and then it goes up so high I sound like Madame Bellamy. It’s bloody awful. Baz always gives me shit about it --“going to break into song for us, Snow?”
He’s such a prick.
I lean in closer to the mirror. The ones on my chin are small. It’s the nose one that’s a disaster.
No help for it. I’ll ask Penny if there’s a spell at breakfast. Though I doubt there is, seeing as Agatha’s been spotty for weeks and I know she’d use a spell, if there was one. Penny says Agatha spells her hair to be that straight and shine like it does. I wasn’t sure I believed her but some days it’s got a bit of an uneven wave to it so I wonder if Penny may be right.
*******
“No, Simon, there isn’t a spell.” Penny is using her patient voice with me, which means she thinks my question is unbearably stupid. She leans across the table to peer at me over her glasses. “You’ve hardly got any.”
“I might only have four now. But just you wait. They’re bound to get worse. With my luck I’ll be covered in them.”
“You don’t know that. And even if they do get worse it’s human nature! The universal teen experience!”
I groan.
“It won’t be that bad, Simon. Besides everyone’s spotty.”
“Baz isn’t spotty.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not Baz again, please.”
“Have you seen him, Penny?”
“I see him every day, Simon.”
“Yes, but have you really looked?”
“Obviously not as intently as you.”
“I live with him!”
I get another eye roll.
“He’s not got one spot! I tell you, it’s proof he’s a vampire. You can’t go through normal adolescence and be as pristine as all that.”
“Everyone goes through puberty at different times. He’s probably not at that stage yet.”
“He’s taller than me!”
“He’s always been taller than you.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“It’s not like he has any control over that, Simon. It’s genetics.”
I know that. I know height isn’t something that you can magick. But it just doesn’t seem fair that each time I grow enough to catch up to him, he grows too.
He did it last summer. Did it again this summer. Even grew over the Christmas holiday this year, the jammy bastard.
And now I’m sprouting pimples right and left and he’s across the dining hall with his flawless, pearly grey skin. Not a spot to be seen.
Typical.
****
I can tell I’ve got more when I wake up. Bloody hell. The old ones dry up and get crusty and new ones take their place.
My face feels heavier this morning. I grimace and I know there’s one on the side of my nose again. It pinches when my cheeks move so it must be massive. And the one on my chin itches— it’s probably grown overnight, red and welted around that nasty white center. I can’t even imagine what my forehead looks like.
I’ve tried everything.
Washing my face twice a day.
Alcohol to try to dry them out (didn’t do a thing, except make my skin all flaky so I looked like I had dandruff and the pox).
I borrowed some ointment off of Gareth. (He’s worse off than me, the poor sod, just a face full of them.) (Which should have tipped me off that whatever he was using wasn’t working.) (Got an earful from Penny about that.)
I had some sort of allergic reaction when I used his, so my face was itching, red even in the areas between the spots, and felt like it was on fucking fire.
Practically scrubbed my face off trying to wash it away.
Of course, Baz walked in right as I came out of the en suite. Did a double take at the sight of me, the wanker, then raised that eyebrow of his and curled his lip up in a sneer. Leaned forward and studied me for a moment. My face got even hotter. I don’t like it when he stares at me like that, all intense and focused. Like he’s plotting the best way to end me without triggering the Anathema. Makes my stomach twist, it does.
Made me wish my wand wasn’t half way across the room.
But I know Baz won’t risk the Anathema. He’s never done anything remotely threatening in our room. (It’s another story out of our room.)
He’d crossed his arms over his chest after he was done inspecting me and smirked, the tosser. “You know, Snow, between the excessive quantity of moles, infinite number of freckles, and extraordinary collection of pimples you have on your face, I don’t think I can actually see anything resembling skin anymore.”
He’s going to make me trigger the Anathema one of these days.
I ended up having to see the nurse for it, when I couldn’t stop scratching at my face. She rolls her eyes almost as much as Penny. It’s not like I can help being there so often. I’ve got missions. Important work for the Mage. It’s what I do.
She’d shaken her head at me and cast some spell that made the itching go away but didn’t do a thing for the bloody spots. Looked bored and put upon even doing that, she did.
This teen experience is a bloody nuisance.
I’m more and more convinced Baz is a vampire. The entire class looks poxed except for him. Like we’re in the middle of a plague while he’s all alabaster skin, unblemished and smooth, immaculate and bloody flawless.
Perfect, just like he always is.
Wanker.
Baz
Snow is an absolute spotted mess. It was entertaining at first, to watch him peer at himself in the mirror, hear the muttered curses as he would catch sight of each new blemish.
But I’m actually finding myself almost feeling sorry for him now.
Almost.
He’s standing at his mirror, turning his face this way and that, grumbling to himself as he inspects his reflection.
It’s something he does on a daily basis since his skin condition deteriorated so precipitously. I should probably stop needling him about it.
But I won’t because he actually seems quite bothered by it. Can’t let him think I’m going soft.
I wasn’t joking the other night, when I mocked him. I don’t think he has a span of skin left that doesn’t have some manner of spot or blotch or freckle on it. At least he’s stopped with the alcohol washes. He was shedding more than a snake when he was doing that, leaving errant flakes of skin all over the bathroom sink.
Disgusting.
Whatever he’s doing certainly isn’t making anything better. Making it a far sight worse by my estimation.
He’s literally a textbook illustration of acne vulgaris. The full range: from red and bumpy spots, to glaring pustules, to crusted over, scabby craters.
More like a walking dermatologic visual in actuality. You could slap a label on him: progressive stages of teenage acne and the entire range of pigmented facial anomalies.
Although they weren’t really anomalies before the acne got to Snow. His moles and freckles just seem to fit with his tawny skin—vast arrays of constellations scattered across his face, mapping out patterns against the smoothness of his complexion.
I don’t know what I’m thinking. What absolute nonsense. Snow’s freckles are a travesty.
And he’s anything but smooth complexioned. He’s more of a lunar landscape than Shakespeare’s damask’d roses.
I can’t be arsed to mess with him now though. I’m too comfortable under my blankets.
It’s far too early for anyone to be up, but Snow’s probably readying himself to head off on one of the Mage’s blasted missions again. Despite the fact that it’s a Sunday morning and by all accounts he should be doing what the rest of us are—having a lazy lie-in.
I watch him from under half-lidded eyes, the blankets pulled up to cover the bottom half of my face. He growls one last time, savages his curls in an attempt to tame them, and then charges out the door. It slams shut behind him, further proof that Snow has no regard for the niceties of sharing a room.
Thanks to all his thumping about, I’m now wide awake. I try to go back to sleep, try to will myself into a drowsy oblivion, but that ship has sailed. No Sunday lie-in for me and I lay the blame directly on Snow.
I stay under the covers for a bit longer, dreading the chilly walk to the en suite, but eventually my need to piss outweighs the comfort of the bed.
It’s not until I’m washing my hands and happen to glance up at the mirror that I notice.
There’s a pimple on my nose. Not just on my nose—at the very tip of it. Right in the fucking center of my face. If it were anywhere else—my forehead or my cheeks, for example—I’d have some chance of hiding it. But this. I can’t hide this.
And I can’t hide the one on my chin either. Bloody hell.
I shouldn’t even have pimples. I should by all rights be immune to this. I don’t get sick, I’m not prey to infections—how the bloody hell have I ended up with acne, for Crowley’s sake? It should be one of the perks of being undead—imperviousness to the ravages of teenage skin eruptions.
For half a minute I wonder if Snow has spelled me, in retribution for my insensitive commentary on his facial imperfections. But there is no possible way Snow could have managed a spell this precise, this nuanced. I’d be covered in boils, like Job himself, if Snow had attempted to pox me.
That’s not to say that this is acceptable. It most assuredly is not. And there’s no bloody spell for it. Dev’s been spotty since last year and he and Niall have yet to find anything that does more than slightly diminish the redness.
It’s fine. This is fine.
It’s not fine.
I need to call home and talk to Daphne. Surely she’ll have some advice for me.
Simon
The sunlight filtering through the window wakes me up. I’m still knackered from yesterday. Didn’t get back until well after midnight and I’ve got class in just a bit. I stretch and groan as my shoulder pops. I wrenched it trying to free my sword from that basilisk’s skull last night. I roll my neck and pull myself to a seated position.
Baz is already up. The door to the en suite’s closed but I don’t hear the water running.
My stomach growls. I’ll have time for seconds if I get to breakfast early enough. I’m just about ready to head down there when Baz comes out of the bathroom, steam drifting behind him and bringing the scent of his shampoo with it. It’s some posh brand, in sleek, artistically shaped bottles.
Penny says it smells like cedar and bergamot. I’m not sure what cedar and bergamot smell like. All I know is that the scent is unfairly pleasant.
Unlike Baz, who isn’t pleasant at all.
He looks murderous at the moment, eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowed. He’s an arse in general but more so in the mornings. He’d sleep late if he had the chance—he’s rarely out of bed before nine on weekends, the tosser, not unless he’s got exams to study for or an away match.
I’m trying to stay out of his way as I leave but I make for the door right as he crosses the room to his wardrobe and we do this awkward half step to avoid each other.
And that’s when I see it.
He’s got a pimple on his nose. Right at the tip of it, where it comes to a bit of a point. It’s nothing compared to any of mine. I’d hardly notice it on anyone else but this is Baz.
It’s stark against his pale skin, raised and just slightly reddened.
Fuck. He’s got one on his chin as well. Two, actually.
Baz has spots.
Trivial and hardly noticeable ones, but still.
I open my mouth to say something then think better of it and hightail it down to breakfast.
I still can’t quite believe it.
Baz has spots.
Penny is disappointingly unimpressed by this unexpected and highly irregular development.
“Simon, we all have spots. This is not some earth-shattering revelation. It’s puberty. A normal part of human development. We’ve been over this.”
“No, but this is Baz. Baz, Penny. He’s not human.”
Penny rolls her eyes again. She rolls her eyes rather a lot, I’m thinking. “He is if he has spots, Simon. I’d say this disproves your vampire hypothesis for good.”
“Maybe vampires aren’t immune to acne.”
“Simon.”
“Maybe it’s some plot. He probably magicked them up himself, the scheming prick.”
“You’re relentless! First you’re outraged that he doesn’t have spots, now you’re complaining that he does! For Merlin’s sake, Baz has finally shown himself to be as imperfect as the rest of us, so let it go, Simon.”
“He’s not imperfect. Far from it. Even his pimples are impeccable—small, unobtrusive, uh . . . restrained.”
Penny stands up, takes her plate and glares at me over the top of her glasses. “That’s enough, Simon. You’re being absurd. No one has perfect pimples.” She stomps across the hall to deposit her dishes, turning back to give me a disapproving look.
I scowl at her. Baz walks in as Penny goes out.
She’s wrong this time. Penny’s not wrong about much, but she’s wrong about this.
Baz’s pimples are fucking perfect.
It’s so fucking unfair.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383057
#carry on#baz pitch#simon snow#snowbaz#my fics#my writing#pimples#rainbow’s twitter#watford#rainbow said Baz has acne how could I resist writing this?
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Dusted Mid-Year Exchange, Part 3: Writers’ Lists
Joe McPhee
We wrap up our mid-year feature with writers’ favorites from the first half of the year. If you missed them, check out Parts One and Two from earlier this week.
Tobias Carroll
SAULT — UNTITLED (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)
Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)
Cold Beat — Mother (DFA Records)
African Head Charge — Drumming is a Language 1990 - 2011 (On-U Sound)
En Attendant Ana — Juliet (Trouble in Mind)
Positive No — Kyanite (self-released)
Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)
Matt LaJoie — Everlasting Spring (Flower Room)
Xetas — The Cypher (12XU)
Alison Cotton — Zener_08 (Sensory Leakage)
Coriky — Coriky (Dischord)
Błoto — Erozje (Astigmatic Records)
Gerycz / Powers / Rolin — Beacon (Garden Portal)
75 Dollar Bill Little Big Band — Live at Tubby’s (self-released)
Slum of Legs — Slum of Legs (Splurge Recordings)
The Soft Pink Truth — Am I Free to Go? (self-released)
Tim Clarke
Activity — Unmask Whoever (Western Vinyl)
Alabaster DePlume — To Cy and Lee: Instrumentals Vol. 1 (International Anthem)
Drab City — Good Songs For Bad People (Bella Union)
Fake Laugh — Dining Alone (State 51 Conspiracy)
King Krule — Man Alive! (XL)
Owen Pallett — Island (Domino)
Andrew Forell
Irreversible Entanglements — Who Sent You? (International Anthem)
Wire — Mind Hive (Pinkflag)
Peel Machine Dream — Agitprop Alterna (Tough Love/Slumberland)
Rowland S Howard — Teenage Snuff Film (Fat Possum)
The Wants — Container (Council Records)
Shabaka And The Ancestors — We Are Sent Here By History (Impulse!)
Davey Harms — World War (Hausu Mountain)
Bohren & Der Club Of Gore — Patchouli Blue (Ipecac)
Ray Garraty
Rio Da Yung Og — City on My Back (#Boyz Entertainment)
Cash Kidd — No Socks (4746 Global)
The Jacka — Murder Weapon (The Artist Records)
Z-Ro — Quarantine: Social Distancing (1 Deep Entertainment)
Ka — Descendants of Cain (self-released)
Bandgang Lonnie Bands — The Scamily (TF Entertainment)
Jennifer Kelly
Six Organs of Admittance—Companion Rises (Drag City)
Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven—We’re New Again (XL Recordings)
Obnox—Savage Raygun (Ever/Never)
Cable Ties—Far Enough (Merge)
Lewsberg—In this House (12XU)
James Elkington—Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)
Jehnny Beth —To Love Is To Live (Arts & Crafts)
Destroyer—Have We Met (Merge)
Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)
Chouk Bwa & The Ångströmers— Vodou Alé (Bongo Joe)
FACS—Void Moments (Trouble in Mind)
Elkhorn—The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)
Arthur Krumins
Gil Scott-Heron, Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL)
The Giving Shapes — Earth Leaps Up (Elsewhere)
Wut — Now (Self-released)
Ranil — Ranil y su Conjunto Tropical (Analog Africa)
Ash Brooks — Temple of Roses (Flower Room)
Chip Langer — Songs for Melissa (Xylem)
Keenan Ahrends Trio — Live at House on the Hills Session (Self-released)
Jeff Parker — Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem)
Julius Eastman — Feminine (Frozen Reeds)
White Poppy — Paradise Gardens (Not Not Fun)
Pharoah Sanders — Live in Paris 1975 (Transversales Disques)
Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz)
Jim White and Marisa Anderson — The Quickening (Thrill Jockey)
Aoife Nessa Frances — Land of No Junction (Ba Da Bing)
Andrea Cortez — The Secret Song of Plants (Aural Canyon)
Patrick Masterson
Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)
Squirrel Flower — I Was Born Swimming (Polyvinyl)
Black Taffy — Opal Wand (Leaving)
Mint Mile — Ambertron (Comedy Minus One)
Moodymann — Taken Away (KDJ)
Sarah Mary Chadwick — Please Daddy (Sinderlyn)
Andrea — Ritorno (Illian Tape)
Cable Ties — Far Enough (Merge)
Torres — Silver Tongue (Merge)
Russell Ellington Langston Butler — Emotional Bangers Only EP (self— released)
Tan Cologne — Cave Vaults on the Moon in New Mexico (Labrador)
Future — High Off Life (Epic)
Ian Mathers
Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II (Karlrecords)
Anastasia Minster — Father (self released)
Helen Money — Atomic (Thrill Jockey)
Holy Fuck — Deleter (Last Gang)
Hum — Inlet (Polyvinyl)
Solar Woodroach — 7 Perversions on Pachabel's Canon (Nilamox)
Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)
Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (self released)
Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead (self released)
Yves Tumor — Heaven to a Tortured Mind (Warp)
Special mention to the incredible Charles Curtis Performances & Recordings 1998-2018 box we talked about here.
Bill Meyer
(The last entry is not a record, but a festival of recordings)
Owl — Mille Feuille (SOFA)
Paul Lytton / Nate Wooley — Known / Unknown (Fundacja Sluchaj)
Six Organs of Admittance — Companion Rises (Drag City)
Elkhorn — The Storm Sessions (Beyond Beyond is Beyond)
*Waterless Hills — The Great Mountain (Cardinal Fuzz / Feeding Tube)
Powers / Rolin Duo — s/t (Feeding Tube)
Tashi Dorji / Tyler Damon — To Catch A Bird (Trost)
James Elkington — Ever Roving Eye (Paradise of Bachelors)
Chicago Underground Quartet — Good Days (Astral Spirits)
Steve Beresford and John Butcher — Old Paradise Airs (Iluso)
Irreversible Entanglements (International Anthem)
Sandy Ewen — You Win (Gilgongo)
Various artists — AMPLIFY 2020:quarantine
Jonathan Shaw
Raspberry Bulbs — Before the Age of Mirrors (Relapse)
Mamaleek — Come and See (The Flenser)
Thou — Blessings of the Highest Order (Robotic Empire)
Sun City Girls — Live at Sky Church (2182 Recording Company)
Gil Scott Heron and Makaya McCraven — We’re New Again (XL Recordings)
Neutrals — Rent/Your House (Domestic Departure)
Derek Taylor
Twenty from 2020: Jazz and Improv (order entirely arbitrary)
Decoy w/ Joe McPhee — AC/DC (otoROKU)
Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)
Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)
James Brandon Lewis & Chad Taylor — Live at Willisau (Intakt)
Jeremy Pelt — The Art of Intimacy, Vol. 1 (HighNote)
Peter Brötzmann/ Maâlem Moukhtar Gania/ Hamid Drake — The Catch of a Ghost (I Dischi Di Angelica)
Patty Waters — An Evening in Houston (Clean Feed)
Whit Dickey — Expanding Light (AUM Fidelity)
Brandon Seabrook — Exultations (Astral Spirits)
John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)
Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)
Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)
Kidd Jordan /Joel Futterman /Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)
Sam Rivers — Ricochet (No Business)
Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)
Dudu Pukwana — and the Spears (Matsuli Music)
Sun Ra — Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 & 2 (Ezz-thetics)
Shirley Scott — One for Me (Arc/Strata-East)
Buddy Collette — The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions (Fresh Sound)
Lennie Tristano — The Duo Sessions (Dot Time)
#dusted magazine#midyear#lists#tobias carroll#tim clarke#andrew forell#jennifer kelly#patrick masterson#ian mathers#arthur krumins#bill meyer#jonathan shaw#derek taylor
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