#and by fucking jove did i get rain...
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When it rains, am I right...?
Lemme tell you guys about a day so utterly dreadful that it’s actually kind of hilarious.
Rant of satirically bad day below for your convenience:
I’m from California. We’ve been in an intense drought, one of the worst of our states history. So, today, we FINALLY had some real rainfall. And not just a drizzle. We had a straight up storm that hasn’t let up from morning til right now. It’s literally been raining nonstop and it’s desperately needed.
...Unfortunately, rainfall also brings about the shittiest drivers you can imagine.
So, after paying my family a visit for Sunday breakfast, I went to work, had some great orders that had me on a roll, getting good, quick orders. One was a Safeway order, the best orders you can get. And this was a QUICK one.
Not quick enough apparently, because when I left the grocery store, I found that my car had a shiner on it:
No one witnessed what happened and no cameras were nearby. So, some jerkoff probably backed up into my car or pulled into it when parking or whatever, completely tearing up my bumper. You can’t see from this angle, but it’s pret-ty damn bad.
So, I had to report a hit-n-run, which was tedious as is, and it’s only getting started since I only got my case number and have a more extensive followup tomorrow. Since the driver didn’t leave their information and nobody saw them, this is gonna set me back $500. That is, of course, after spending $100+ the day prior on birthday gifts for my niece, and another $100 on two used tires since my right hand tire was leaking air.
Well, I don’t know HOW the asshole pulled it off, but he messed up my new (used) tire as well.
So, as the storm picked up, I was driving back to Safeway (the very same one) for a new order...aaaaaand that fucking tire exploded.
Like...BOOM.
It was so bad that my car was scraping when I pulled into the Safeway parking lot right by the front of a Rite Aide because it had light. This was two hours ago, when it was already dark, and POURING. And here I am, in need of a tire change.
So, I spend a good half hour changing my tire with my mobile crank in the middle of this storm, getting drenched and getting sore. I’m a pro at changing tires but I’ve never changed in the middle of a storm like this, so it took longer, which left me soaking by the time it was finished.
And unfortunately, that meant my phones (personal & work phone) got drenched too.
Both work, mercifully. But my personal phone now has water damage which means its speakers are fucked up. So, it only plays sound if a headphone jack is in, and SOMETIMES the dongle. We’ll see if it’s any better tomorrow or if I gotta take the L and just keep my headphones in if I wanna listen to music, play videos or podcasts.
When it rains, baby...it fuckin’ poooooooours...
But just, boom, boom, boom, one thing after another. I just bought new tires, and I gotta get a new-new one one day later. And once Allstate is done approving my hit-n-run case, that’s another $500 down the drain pointlessly.
I’m kind of too burnt out to be as livid as I was this morning. The tire just happened two hours ago, and I’m still damp as I type this.
Honestly, I don’t know how I feel right now. Today was just COMICALLY miserable, and that misery is gonna cost me a good chunk of my payout this week because someone decided to be a selfish prick and didn’t have the decency to, at the very least, leave their information for me after smashing my bumper. No, instead, they committed a fucking CRIME and got away with it. It’s infuriating, but it happened, and not much I can do but roll with the punches because shit’s gonna keep rolling whether I’m pissed or not.
My only silver lining is my last order covers the cost of the new used tire I have to get tomorrow. Someone ordered from a fish place that was 13 miles away. In a storm and with a spare tire, I would’ve dismissed it. Only, I couldn’t work a lot because I was caught up in all the bullshit, and it paid $29.50, which meets my “$2 per mile minimum.” And as soon as I picked up the order, the customer texted me and told me to knock on the door when I arrive because she wanted to give me extra for delivering so far out in a storm. (A stupid decision, on my part, especially since my speakers on my phone weren’t working since this was RIGHT after the tire thing) But I managed, drove slow on the freeway with my hazard lights on, dealt with a few more shitheads who couldn’t take the hint to maybe drive around the slow driver with his hazard lights on in a storm (and one asshole who drove right by me and splashed my entire windshield obstructing it for a solid second). And when I got to the last customer, she slipped me a $20 for the effort. So that last order alone was 50 cents shy of $50 for an hour of my time, and is gonna cover the cost of my second passenger-side tire in three days.
If I could do ten of those, that could cover the body work I’m gonna need for a bumper replacement. ‘XD
Long story short?
I went so goddamn long without rain in this state, I forgot why I hated it so much. (:’
#general ramblings#ranting#venting#i bet hand over fist this douchebag drove a truck#it's always a fucking truck#seriously tho#this is borderline parody#how just one bad fucking thing can happen after another#it's like that episode of hey arnold when arnold think he's cursed#or a be careful what you wish for moment#here i was wishing for rain#and by fucking jove did i get rain...#i miss hey arnold#fun fact#eugene the bad luck boi was voiced by ben diskin 20+ years back#when diskin was a kid#diskin would go up to be my favorite voice of venom#and one of the characters from that beastars show everybody loves#picture venom with bad luck#he swings in terrorize spidey#doesn't stick the landing and crashes through the floor#...w-we're okay... X_____x;#i'd watch that
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i just read all the new features in minecraft 1.18, here are the things i love the most
this is exciting to me and me only but !! new water color!!!! new grass color!! i’m obsessed with choosing my builds based on biome colors and i’m obsessed with that grass and water color combo
also meadows look like they will be cozy as fuck af
me n the goats living in the JAGGED PEAKS?? realistically probably not a great base biome but when has that ever stopped me
yall… i am in love with lena raine, she putting out humdingers EXCLUSIVELY my first mission in my new world will be get that new music disc it sounds so good
I NEEDED THIS BRO in my long time world the like update lines are so apparent cause i explore my world suuuupee far but i’ve been praying for them to blend updates and !! here we go!!!
by JOVE dude. i will be living in a lush cave thank you. tropical fish, natural light, underwater ponds, axolotls. what the fuck.
not my joke but we got geneva convention added to minecraft. no more imperial pillagers.
such a like objectively unimportant change but i LOVE the new biome names!!! mountains ARE windswept!!! they ARE!!!!
excuse me?? i know diamonds are absurdly common in the update and they wanted to add a reward to finding a fossil but? wha???? this seems so random lol
and now. the music. the music is so good with every song i felt so like at peace and nostalgic and happy and calm and every warm feeling in the world. lena raine and kumi tanioka have harnessed the essense of minecraft and have led it to my heart. in 10 years, i will hear comforting memories and start to cry, because i don’t know we’re in the golden age right now. i was stunned and amazed by the work they did, and i love them thank you goodnight
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hey I’m not sure if you’re taking prompt requests but I just had this idea if you ever want to write it. I know it’s not anywhere near New Years right now but I had an idea for if there was a little NYE party with all the ppdc staff there. All the homies are just vibing, getting crunk on shitty alchohol or whatever and y’know Newt and Hermann have a lil New Year’s Eve kiss 🥺
That’s all I have to say I hope you’re having a good day!
@owengrose said:
Prompt: "My New Year's resolution is to finally tell him I love him."
happy new year’s eve to both of you!!! i let the first one sit in my ask box for a while before getting to it lol. my annual Newmann NYE fic. here’s to hoping next year is moderately better (and I actually get more writing done...)
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“Here we are, then,” Hermann says.
He hands Newt a glass of something he concocted at the lab kitchenette—judging by the color, and the pitiful wedge of a clementine garnish he squeezed onto the brim, some sort of gin and tonic, though less tonic and more watermelon La Croix. It was the only thing they could find in the breakroom fridge that would work remotely as a mixer. It’s probably been buried in there for months. “Thanks, dude,” Newt says. Then, noticing the lack of a similar glass in Hermann’s hand, asks “Not drinking?”
“None of that,” Hermann says. “I’ve got a bottle of decent wine buried somewhere under all the rubbish in my desk. I’ll have that if I want any before we go.”
“Suit yourself,” Newt says. “It’ll be more fun if we show up tipsy, I’m telling you.”
New Year’s Eve used to be a lot more exciting when Newt was in school, and young and invincible and all that shit. There were parties—bar crawls—the Times Square ball drop at midnight, queued up on someone’s laptop or a television screen wherever he was—drinking until he needed a classmate (or later colleague) to walk him home. The Shatterdome staff still goes as hard as Newt used to, and God, Newt envies them for it, but the end of the world kinda killed it for him. He just kinda exists in a low, humming state of anxiety now. He and Hermann both. It’s good for them to get out of the lab every now and then and strive for normalcy, and Newt has a feeling Hermann knows it, which is probably why he didn’t put up a fight when Newt suggested they go to the big base party tonight.
Newt still needs a good few drinks in him before he can drink more and pretend to be merry. He finishes the gin and tonic with a wince. “Too much gin,” he says. “Okay, let’s go.”
Newt drinks, and he dances with a few people, and he engages in a few genuine non-work-related-conversations before he finally admits to himself he’d rather just chill with Hermann in one of the deserted corners of the room. Hermann is waiting for him in a stupid gold party hat with a cup of water—what a guy. Always there for Newt. The hat is a cute look on him, too. Newt wonders if he picked it out himself, or if it was forced on him; either scenario is cute.
“I just don’t fancy dealing with your hangover tomorrow,” Hermann says with a sniff, as Newt swallows the water down gratefully after a few thanks. “Last year—”
“Yeah, okay,” Newt says. Last year was bad. He ended up falling asleep on the floor of the lab, and when Hermann made him coffee the next morning, he puked it up all over a very important stack of Hermann’s paperwork and the subsequent shouting match just made his headache worse. Drinking water is good, very good. He kicks his feet up on a nearby vacant chair. The music is loud, and people look like they’re having fun. Normalcy. He and Hermann are just two normal dudes right now, who aren’t fighting monsters from another dimension. “Can you believe we’ve survived another year?”
“Frankly, no,” Hermann admits.
“One whole year,” Newt says. “One whole year of not being squashed by a kaiju, or eaten by a kaiju, or murdered by you…”
Hermann snorts derisively, though a bit of a genuine smile does peek through. “One whole year of you not blowing the laboratory up. That is a feat, isn’t it?”
“You fucking bet it is,” Newt says. He really thought Hermann was going to kill him over the puking incident, and only a day into the new year too. He slings an arm around Hermann’s shoulders. Two normal dudes, and friends at that. He really likes Hermann, y’know, but that might just be the gin and watermelon La Croix talking. “You got any resolutions, dude?”
“Er,” Hermann says.
“I want to try to get into yoga,” Newt says. “For exercise, and shit. We should do it together.” Back when the base enjoyed more funding and workers, Newt was always seeing flyers for weekly yoga classes taped up in the elevator and at the announcement board in the mess; once, he got it so into his mind that he was going to start going that he bought three whole pairs of yoga pants. He never got around to it, of course. The classes kinda fizzled out when the PPDC budget was slashed drastically anyway. Hopefully YouTube videos work just as well, and that the pants still fit him...
“If I’m being honest, Newton,” Hermann says, and Newt spies the tips of his ears turning pink, how cute, “I still haven’t quite managed to accomplish last year’s resolution. Or technically this year’s, I suppose. My—well—my nerves failed me every time I thought I was close.”
"Eh, no big deal,” Newt says. “I never did mine either. I think that’s just as much of a tradition.” He went vegan for all of two weeks before realizing most of the rationing-standard food they served in the mess wasn’t exactly catered to those particular dietary needs. Also, Newt likes fancy lattes too much, and oatmilk just wasn’t kicking it for him. “I totally am gonna do the yoga one though. I need a stress reliever. I don’t wanna go bald before we’re even killed by kaiju, you know?” He crosses his legs. “Or go grey. I can’t decide which is worse. What was yours?”
“Nothing important,” Hermann says quickly. He takes a clumsy sip of his own cup of water, and spills a bit of it down his sweater. Newt decides not to mention. “It must be nearly midnight. Don’t you want to run off to find someone to snog?”
“Nah, not this year, I don’t think,” Newt says. Last year (before the whole blacking out and ruining the paperwork thing), he made out with a ranger he had a crush on for, like, months, and the guy never even called him back. And Newt slipped his official PPDC email into his pocket too. So totally rude. He reaches out and plucks the elastic string holding Hermann’s hat on, and is delighted when Hermann scowls. “You’re stuck with me. Why don’t you find someone to kiss?”
Hermann opens his mouth, and then shuts it. The blush is spreading down from his ears. “I am staying right here, thank you, and I am not kissing anyone.”
“Suit yourself,” Newt says.
“Five minutes to go!” someone in the crowd shouts.
Newt locates a party hat of his own on a nearby table and pulls it on. It’s silver, unlike Hermann’s. He doesn’t think it looks nearly as cute as Hermann’s. “What was your resolution?” he finally asks. The burning curiosity’s too much for him. What did Hermann mean by nerves? Hermann’s never afraid to speak his mind around Newt, at least—Newt can’t remember the last time he’s held back anything. This must be a pretty big thing.
“Oh, it hardly matters now,” Hermann says. “The year’s about to end, isn’t it? Better luck next go around, I suppose.”
“Were you going to request your own lab?” Newt says. That’s a big thing. And it’s a big thing he’d be hesitant to share with Newt, too. Not that Newt would be upset over having his own lab, obviously, sharing with Hermann totally sucks. It’s the worst.
“Mm. No,” Hermann says.
Newt feels a small twinge of relief, but only for a moment. “A different Shatterdome?” It’s the sort of thing Hermann’s always threatening—by Jove, Newton, if you don’t clean this mess up right now, I’m marching into the Marshal’s office, and I’m going to demand...
“Oh, it’s hardly that dramatic,” Hermann says. He plucks at the elastic of his hat this time. “It’s one minute until midnight.”
“Just tell me!” Newt says. Their fellow partygoers start counting down around them. “You’re killing me. I just wanna—”
“Ten—”
“It’s not important,” Hermann says.
“It is to me,” Newt says.
“It’s really not,” Hermann says.
“Tell me, tell me, tell me—”
“Fine,” Hermann says.
He grips the front of Newt’s shirt. Newt shuts up immediately. “I’m in love with you,” Hermann growls, “you wretched little man. That was my bloody resolution.”
“Oh, shit,” Newt squeaks.
Someone pops a bottle of champagne to loud cheers; confetti is suddenly raining down on Newt and Hermann. They totally missed midnight. “Oh, shit,” Newt repeats, and then, because Hermann looks utterly mortified and like he wants to book it out of there as fast as he can, thinks fuck it. He leans forward and kisses Hermann.
“Newton,” Hermann gasps, half in shock, half in delight, and returns it enthusiastically.
#newmann#maria's fanfiction tag#Anonymous#last fic of 2020!!!!#alcohol cw ///#emeto cw///#(brief ref)
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(this is about your previous two post and i fear gonna be several ask long, i apologize for it but i wanted to express my unasked opinion😅) i don’t think there should be necessarily a reason for her seeking power and an important position. First of all, she is born in a society (and i mean it without capital letter) that consider all those without power and prestige Pixies. So first of all she grew up knowing that she had to get the best position she could afford (an high one considering...
...her brilliance). Then she became a Reformer, because she wanted to change negative things in her Society, but there’s a gap between being a Reformer and a revolutionary. She is not Darrow. We don’t know what she expected without the war (because when she was Octavia’s lancer nobody would have guessed a war like that was coming) but what if she wanted to be Sovereign because it was a childhood dream just as Cassius’ one was to be an olympic? being ambitious is not being bad or good. It was...
...It was after she considered darrow’s cause, after golden son, that she decided there was the need for a deeper change. i love her and i think that the best thing about characters in RR is their humanity, flows and all. Yes, she was marrying cassius to protect her family, and she wanted to do good things for the others, this is for sure, but humans are allowed to want things for themselves without shame. This doesn’t mean she is like Nero or Adrius. (And now that my rant has ended, i want...
...(And now that my rant has ended, i want to specify that this is not meaning hate towards Virginia, who’s one of my all time favorite, or (more important) towards the opinion you expressed. On the contrary, i really like reading your rant post since you always provide excellent points. hope i don’t annoy you)
Ok, let’s establish right now that opinions other than mines DO NOT BOTHER OR ANNOY ME. What bothers and annoys me are haters and self-rightous arseholes. What I can’t tolerate under no circumstace are sexism, racisim, lgbt+ - phobia, bullying and people telling me how I should live my life.
I have literally begged people to send me asks with their random thoughts about the RR series for...2 or 3 years now. Since I havemade this blog in any case. Do not worry, you do not annoy me. You’re always welcome to state your opinion.
Now, to delve into the answer:
People are totally valid if they want something for themselves, especially careers. VIrginia is as well. But, let’s be clear on one thing - in my previous posts I argued against Virginia wanting power for selfish reasons/for the sake of power. It’s one thing to have no specific reason as to why you want a position of power (you’re good at it so you might as well do it) and quite another to want power for yourself.
The society (no capital letters) doesn’t consider powerless and prestigeless people Pixies. They consider them Bronzies like Sevro and Fitchner. Pixies are entitled Golds who never worked a day in their lives to deserve the power they have, but they abuse it like they own it. Pixies are not Peerless Scarreds or Bronzies, they indulge too much in very expensive vices and thus they get addicted (Pearl Clubs, caviar and champagne, drugs etc). Tactus and Apollonius are borderline Pixies, because they indulge in vices to the extreme, but they are never overwhelmed by them and they are fine warriors compared to the soft Golds that die first in the Iron Rain, not out of unluck but because they are not skilled.
I think that Virginia’s open stance as a Reformer even though she is an Augustus and a protegee of Octavia au Lune was not only bold af, but a statement. She pushed openly for reformist legislation to help other Colors, she never hid her political colors. That is dangerous to do in the Core, but she did it nonetheless. I agree to some degree she did it for herself - she wanted to carve her own path. You can’t tell me that she had to do that, she didn’t. She is the ArchGovernor’s daughter, she could have easily got into one of Nero’s projects, but instead she rebelled. We all know what Nero thinks of Reformers, but this is his daughter. He was clearly more disgusted with Adrius’ media empire buissness than her political agenda. Still, her stance is very far away from his views. Not only that, but she could have done just about anything else with her life (buissness, charity, military career, etc). But thing is, she believed in that stuff and she showed it. She is a genius at politics, she used her abilities to push for fairer treatment of Colors in the bloodydamn Core. Of course, she idealised things and the Reformer agenda is still a milder kind of slavery, but I think that her reasons for craving Octavia’s power are totally different from Nero’s. Nero wanted it for himself, to be just another tyrant. Virginia wanted to Reform the Society, though. Because that was what she felt was right, in a world that doesn’t care at all about what’s fair or not when it comes to other Colors than Gold (and not much when it comes to Gold either).
I also said in my previous post that she learnt the answer after Darrow revealed to her who he is...she felt betrayed, because she felt she didn;t know the man she loved, but she would have shot him in the tunnels if she thought him a threat. The fact that she didn’t says that he was right. Her feelings aside, the Society was too putrid and had to be broken and re-built. It took her time to understand what was Darrow’s plan with the Rising. But that’s fair, as she had to be sure that the plan included a rebuilding, a better future for everyone, not an upturning of the pyramid.
I said that she had to change her views and she did after she came to understand Darrow and the Rising better. I have never said that that happened in Golden Son while being Octavia’s protegee, it obviously happended at the end while she was away from Darrow and through out Morning Star. But that doesn’t mean she just wanted power for herself or that she just wanted power for no reason at all, just an ambitious career path. Cassius wanted to be an Olympic Knight to protect the Compact, the Sovereign and serve the Society - the status quo Society, fascist shitpit. Virginia wanted to reform it (kinda like Romulus did in those 10 years as Sovereign of the Rim Dominion). And she did that without knowing about the Rising or the upcoming war. She actively pushed to change it. Just because she is not Darrow/a revolutionnary doesn’t mean she didn’t care about the lowColors enough to want a better/fairer life for them and actively pursue that on a more peaceful path. She is ambitious and it’s normal to set eyes on such a high position as Sovereign, but...a childhood dream? Sure, sounds plausible...but there is more to it than just that. She surely wanted to be a Reformist Sovereign,
It wasn’t that dramatic of a change in my opinion - how she allied with the Rising. She was halfway there. She comes to agree to war - to build, you need to destroy first. And she gave up most of her power so she wouldn’t be tempted to abuse it. Everyone, except Darrow, expected her to want that throne very, very badly and abuse power. She didn’t want it and she is walking Silenius’ Stiletto. No way she went from ‘career path’ to ‘some measly change’ to ‘full on Demokratic Sovereign of the Solar Republic’. From her reformist views to her stance for demokracy when even her closest allies didn’t like it one bit, it can’t be that much.
In Golden Son, when Nero invites the Reformers to the table and offers them a chance at...well, reforming in exchange for help against Octavia, she is hopeful, she still wants to reform the Society and she is not under Octavia’s wing anymore. It wasn’t for show or just plain rebellion or whatever. She did crave Octavia’s power, but her stance as reformer is not capricious. And I can;t believe that her wishes for Sovereigncy were capricious either.
I know it sounds weird for me to defend Reformer!Virginia. I love and adore Demokract!VIrginia way more and I am happy af that she got over her reformist views...she herself looks at them like I look at my teenage self. But I think that the reformer current was part of what made her who she is in Dark Age. In Dark Age we come to understand how she sees other Colors...I mean, Faust tortured her son and she feels no small amount of pity for what Golds, her people, did to him. She has huge respect for Holiday and Theodora. I know there were 10 years, but Romulus is also a Reformist and look at what he did. His regime is still slavery, even if it is more merciful. He is obviously cruler than she ever was, but still, her seeing another approach, the best one for all Colors, even if it’s hard as fuck, and painstakingly walking that Stiletto for 10 years tells me one thing - it wasn’t a world-turner for her to change. I always though her stance as bold and ballsy and a breath of fresh air compared to all the fascist pigs in the Core. I knew she could do better and was a just a step or so away from that.
So, craving Octavia’s power...good? bad? I can’t say. But it wasn’t a career for her, it was an ideal - she’ll have all this power and change things how she wants them. When you look at Silenius’ Stiletto, you have to laugh at the thought, but truth is, at that moment, it sounded good. Too good. No more debating silly Senators and Politicos, no more sucking it up to Octavia (who apparently made her wait for hours until her meditation eneded) to pass laws that grant some Colors a few basic human rights and some resources (Jove knows they have enough of the latter anyway).
Of course, you are entitled to your opinion and I’m entitled to mine as this is more of a thing of interpretation. I’m not trying to change your mind here, so we can agree to disagree, of course. That’s just how I see things...
Hope I’m making sense...
Howl on!
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Sound City 2017
Clarence Docks, Liverpool, 27th-28th May 2017
Words: Gary Lambert
Photos: Gary Coughlan
In Liverpool music terms, the last weekend of May means one thing…. Liverpool Sound City. So there was only one place for Popped Music to head. Obviously. This year Sound City had moved from its previous home of Bramley Moore Dock to the larger surroundings of Clarence Dock. This may seem like a small change, but the difference put a lot more responsibility on the festival itself as they lost the big warehouse which had seen some special events make memories in just two festivals, I’m sure the brickwork must still have a tiny residual shake from the performance by Swans two years ago, let alone the raw punk of Fucked Up last year. In its place came a medium-sized traditional festival tent to accompany the Main Stage which was designed facing the city centre so that the audience were looking out to sea.
It was also a bit uncoordinated in terms of what Sound City actually was. Was it the traditional style festival lasting two days? Or did it include the nostalgia nights of The Human League and John Cale performing The Velvet Underground? For Popped Music, life is all about new music so the first two nights were cast aside in order to save ourselves for the real Sound City Festival.
It was obvious that the organizers of Sound City had decided to go for a high energy start to the day with Estrons and Vant taking on smaller slots than you would expect them to play in order to get the main stage going. Unfortunately the crowd did not come through the turnstiles in enough numbers to thrive on the performances on offer at the largest space. But that did not stop the performers. In the tent we saw local band Generation produce a set of such energy that it made complete sense as to why my taxi driver dad text me about them the day before, “a recommendation from a customer”. I’ve seen the band before and love them, but hats off to whoever that passenger was for trying to educate my dad. Bad news, he hasn’t added them to his Kitchen Disco tracks.
Despite threats of horrific thunderstorms and rain that would get Noah doing some carpentry, the site was bathed in sunshine from much of the early part of the day. Unfortunately the banks of the royal blue Mersey have a constant heavy breeze to minor gale 365 days per year. This meant that the industrial site became reminiscent of a small town in the Sahara desert as wave after wave of sand and dust hit the audience and bands. Fickle Friends were unlucky to perform in probably the worst of it which had Nattie complaining that “it’s been a bad day to wear white jeans” and after she took over keyboard duties during Say No More, “that keyboard felt like it was made of dust”. Hats off to the band though as these were only minor distractions and final track, Swim, felt victorious that they had succeeded.
The regular sandstorm definitely took its toll on the audience though as The Hunna��s lively, energetic performance brought nothing but hoods up and coughing. It must be tough for bands when faced with such a trying set of conditions. At least when it rains people can put their waterproof jackets on and continue to enjoy themselves. The dust clouds were demoralising at times as grit hit your throat, teeth, and eyes.
In the corner at Pirate Studios’ stage, there was less chance for the dust to build up momentum, however if it had tried during Bang Bang Romeo’s set then I think the power of Anastasia’s vocals would have sent the particles fleeing in fear for their very existence. By Jove! That girl has one hell of a set of lungs on her. Even if they had not been on my list of bands to watch, I would have had to watch them from the moment I heard her sing. Afterwards, I overheard somebody describing her as having the strength of Adele in her voice, but I would say it was more like watching a brilliant musical theatre performer as due to the range and pressure she put her voice under. I know that this meant that the rest of the band were somewhat overshadowed, but you wouldn’t tell John Squire not to do a guitar solo.
From the grandiose to the wonderfully simple, as a short trek across the site took me to the Baltic Stage’s tent to catch Irish punk band, Touts. If you have not heard them yet and like The Clash then I would suggest that you get involved ASAP. I loved the energy and aggression in the set which flew by in a matter of seconds. Their finale of Them’s Gloria was glorious, G-L-O-R-I-O-U-S, GLORIOUS!
After the rough around the edges chaos of Touts, The Kills provided a beautiful contradiction to them without straying too far away. The Kills are a band who definitely divide opinion despite not seeming to be the kind of band who court hero worship or hatred. I can honestly say I would never choose to listen to them at home, but after watching them again I would actively go out of my way to watch them perform. There is an understated theatricality to their performance and sound. Maybe it could do with being even more ambitious, but The Kills make sure that you watch them on stage.
It was obvious to me who the highlight of Sound City was going to be looking at the bill beforehand, and so it proved. Peaches, Canada’s Queen of Electronica, had the Baltic Stage tent packed to the rafters with people before she filled it even further with beats, lights, costume changes, and huge inflatable genitalia. It felt like everybody at the festival was trying to squeeze themselves into the tent to throw their arms in the air, and unite in love of life and music. The tracks from Rub such as How Do You Like My Cut? become rebel anthems in the warm, darkness of a venue. Peaches makes you feel that you could conquer the world.
In addition to Sound City Festival, we also had the opportunity to go across the road to Invisible Wind Factory to take in some other acts. To be honest, it was like going back in time to the real Sound City when music would take over the city centre, and it was better as an event than the big stages and fairground on the waterfront. For one, Invisible Wind Factory got people nearer to each other and naturally encouraged more of a festival vibe as it felt impossible not to start making friends with people, or giving people you would have nodded to ten minutes earlier a big hug. Considering most people had been going for about ten hours at that point, you would understand if things become more chilled out, instead we had a shot in the collective arm from some high energy music acts such as Fling, Rongorongo, False Advertising (who had been stood behind me during Peaches and then rushed over to get ready for their set), and a smashing performance by Catholic Action around the corner at North Shore Troubador.
Thankfully for the Sunday of Sound City, Saturday evening had finished with a bit of a downpour. This meant that the festival site was not going to be plagued with the sandstorms of the previous day, although the site was still pretty unforgiving underfoot.
The stylish Red Rum Club opened up the Sunday’s party to thankfully a bigger crowd than Saturday. With smart songs and an effortless style when performing they did not drown on the big stage. Far from it.
During the mid-noughties I sort of fell out of love with indie music, which meant the performance of Milburn did not hit any nostalgic notes for me; but they know their way around working an audience and if somebody in a band is confident enough in themselves to announce “We’re Milburn, we were even less famous about ten years ago”. I can understand that though as the older tracks seemed to me to be landfill indie as so many bands were described at the time, but there is a bit more of a swagger to their newer numbers. I can see throughout this summer that Milburn are going to be a crowd pleaser in a Maximo Park kind of way at a number of festivals. I won’t be looking for another stage if I happen to come across them again.
Headlining the Atlantic Stage and closing the festival was another band from the noughties on a re-birth somewhat, The Kooks. With a new found fan base due to Spotify playlists throwing up their indie classics for a new generation, it was a set people had been excited about all day long. And The Kooks are a band who you can rely on to perform. I don’t like their music, but I still say their gig in the Bombed Out Church at Sound City 2011 was one of the best of my life for watching a band give it their all. Obviously circumstances were different then to now – for one the stage wasn’t made up basically of pallets – so it would not be fair of me to compare that intimacy with a giant industrial yard. But you are never going to be disappointed by a band who can hit you with tracks like Naïve and She Moves In Her Own Way. I might not like them, but they’re still brilliant floor filler indie disco numbers. And as the glitter cannons filled the air, you couldn’t help but be dragged along into the joy of The Kooks.
It was a hard set for The Kooks too. It’d been a bit of a tough weekend for some of the audience because of the dusty air, but more pertinently prior to The Kooks’ closing the show, Liverpool and Manchester’s Metro Mayors had been out on stage to give a speech of remembrance and resilience against those who create terror which was followed by the playing of Don’t Look Back in Anger after an impeccably observed minute’s silence. If it had been a wilder or more somber band, then it might not have struck such a chord with the audience. Instead The Kooks were perfect in their moment.
In the slot before the headliner, came one of my favourite bands of the moment White Lies. After watching their gig in Liverpool late last year, I thought that this was the kind of band who could step up to headline festivals shortly. After this performance, I am certain that they are just the kind of band who can do that. For one of the few times of the weekend, I saw a band who managed without cranking up the volume or tempo to sound perfectly suited to a space of that size. Each song is filled with drama, celebration and grandeur. One of their new songs even reminded me of the Whitney Houston classic I Wanna Dance With Somebody and I love that song. In fact, I’m sure that if a member of White Lies had a celebrity girlfriend or was in the gossip pages on a regular basis they would be headlining Glastonbury this year.
It has been a while since I watched a set by The Jackobins, but given the improvement in the quality of their releases and the changes in band membership, there was no way I was going to miss their moment in the sun at Sound City. I have to say things have got considerably better to my taste. There is more bite to the band now, and it seems that lead members Dominic (singer) and Veso (guitar) have toned down a lot of their on-stage action which previously seemed like a U2 tribute act. Given that their bassist hardly moved, I have a feeling that the forced showmanship of the past was covering for fears in performance. Now the dancing, guitar hero’ing and general performing is entertaining and encouraging for you to join in the party. They’re constantly gigging, so get on down to watch them.
I know Sound City took place at the end of May, but it might very well be that this summer becomes “The Summer of The Amazons“. With their debut album released on the Friday two days before, I was expecting some added excitement to their set. I did not expect to be faced with a tent that was full to the rafters for the last fifteen minutes of their soundcheck – which saw singalongs happen as each member of the band did their vocal checks with extracts of Junk Food Forever and In My Mind. As soon as the set started the atmosphere was electric, and after about fifteen seconds of audience shyness the moshpits opened up and The Amazons become fully aware that Liverpool Sound City loved them. After a couple of songs I thought it was only fair for me to leave so that someone else who hasn’t seen The Amazons several times over could take a bit of the set in.
Celebrating the release of their 300th album, Tim Burgess and Mark Collins of The Charlatans performed a stripped back set in Tim Peaks Diner. Rumours had spread all weekend that it was going to be a full band set, but instead the simple settings suited the pairing. The acoustic version of North Country Boy will live with me forever as a beautiful version of one of my all-time favourite songs. Sadly though with a low stage and plenty of people crowding near the front, the setup felt a little bit too fragile for anybody who was beyond halfway of the moderate-sized tent.
It says something though when Tim Burgess and Mark Collins were not the highlight on Tim’s own tent. For me, there was a choice of two. Firstly Xam Volo who stepped up from just being cool and sounding great, to making people dance, hold hands (it was too early for anything more despite it being proper seduction music), and let his guitarist loose with some impeccable solo work. I’m a big fan of Xam, and you can see more and more of his personality coming out in his shows. Let’s get a bit more funk to the sound and the world will start turning faster. The other standout moment was Tom Mouse Smith. When a little kid can keep a room quiet with only his voice and an acoustic guitar then you’ve got to take your hat off to him. The fact Tom did this without going into the realms of cutesy takes real skill. Whilst a cover of The House of The Rising Sun was a bit awkward for the more analytical members of the audience, Don’t Look Back in Anger brought cheers and a smile of victory from Tom’s dad which will have meant the world to the boy on stage. For the record, if it had gone cutesy and “Sound City’s Got Talent” I would have stormed out of there. Well done kid!
The best thing about festivals, apart from the free love and hedonistic excess obviously, is the musical mixtape you make in your mind as you go from stage to stage. One of the best 30 minute periods I’ve stumbled across in ages was watching half of Fizzy Blood’s set which was the epitome of small stage hard rock. In fact, it felt almost sacrilegious that such riotous anger came forth from The Cavern Stage, Gerry would need a pacemaker for watching them. I almost needed a new hand as I slapped the barriers at the front of the stage in a completely ridiculous attempt of conveying the joy that was shooting through me.
To save myself from any further damage, I decided to move away from the barrier and to the Pirate Studios stage. In a haze of smoke on stage, I saw a man leave his computer and keyboards to stand at the front of the stage to do a Big Fish, Little Fish dance. That was enough to grab my attention, but then the rest of the set of high quality beats from The Baltic States had me slinking and throwing my arms in the air in a manner entirely befitting of an indie kid who cannot dance in the slightest. The Baltic States play in a way that doesn’t have you looking to close your eyes and chill out, but still doesn’t need your heart to be racing at an artificial level to reach maximum enjoyment.
You may notice that there is not much mentioned on Sound City as a festival. To me, Sound City this year was not a festival, and had quite a few failings and disappointments. However, I do not think it would be fair to review the bands with that negativity as it might come across as a criticism of some acts who did brilliantly with a bad hand, and some other bands who were just brilliant. Obviously though, I’ll be there again next year. It is Sound City after all.
The hype beforehand may have been all about John Cale’s bananas, but it was Peaches that I’ll always remember.
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Festival Review: Sound City 2017 Sound City 2017 Clarence Docks, Liverpool, 27th-28th May 2017 Words: Gary Lambert Photos: Gary Coughlan In Liverpool music terms, the last weekend of May means one thing….
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I absolutely loved the one where Newt came to look after Hermann when he though he had consumption and I was wondering if there was any chance you could do a short sequel? Something to do with Newt being dissaproved of by Lars? :)
i can’t really tell you why but the FINALLY cool weather we’re getting has put me in the mood for this au again....pls enjoy some hermann “yearning” gottlieb
part one of the fic
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Hermann rarely allows himself fits of indulgence as extreme as oversleeping, but on the occasions he does, it is always on days such as today: cold, wet, gloomy. Days designed to be spent inside with the curtains drawn tight and a hot water bottle tucked in the bedclothes. Hermann in particular has plenty reason to do so; the constant dull twinge of pain in his left leg builds to a roaring throb when it rains, and the bought of pneumonia he’s only just managed to shake has left him wary of stepping beyond his front stoop in anything less than sunshine. It’s not as if he has any pressing work waiting for him at the laboratory. Newton, he’s sure, can manage a single day without him.
At half past eleven, Hermann is roused by the distant thud of the heavy wooden door knocker downstairs. Thirty-five minutes past eleven, there is a lighter knock at his bedchamber door. “Dr. Gottlieb?” their footman calls. “You have a caller.”
Damn. Hermann groans into his pillow. “Thank you,” he calls back. “I won’t be a moment.”
It takes Hermann a bit more than a moment--his bed is very warm. At risk of making whoever is calling wait longer, he merely ends up belting his dressing gown over his nightshirt and trading his long socks for his house slippers to go down. He regrets it the moment he pushes the parlor door open.
It is Newton; of course it is Newton. “Hermann!” he exclaims, and rises from his stool at once as Hermann stumbles back against the doorframe in embarrassed surprise. He’s in his dressing gown, by Jove. “You’re alright. Why didn’t you come to the lab? I was so worried.”
“I was feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermann says weakly. He draws his robe tighter round himself as Newton struts forward, practically overdressed in comparison, even with his sleeves pushed up (garish tattoos revealed), his glasses smudged, his perpetually untidy hair even untidier than usual. “Goodness, Newton, if I’d known it was you--I’m not decent.”
“And yet you were completely willing to entertain anyone else in your nightclothes,” Newton says, grinning. He clasps Hermann’s hand. “Am I really that different, my friend?”
Hermann colors; desperate to avoid the question, he clears his throat and poses one of his own. “Why are you here?”
“I told you,” Newton says. “You didn’t show up at the lab. I was worried, so I decided I’d check up on you. I thought--” His voice falters a moment. “I thought your illness may have returned.”
Hermann has not been alone with Newton since his illness. (In their laboratory, they are under the constant watchful eyes of their fellow researchers, their hired hands, and on the occasions they dine out together for supper or take a walk, at least a dozen other like-minded individuals. Here, it is almost always under Hermann’s father’s eye, who finds a way to situate himself into the corner of whatever room they’ve occupied without fail. Their stolen moments of privacy are rare and brief--nothing at all conducive for the long talks Hermann yearns for.) The details of that last occasion do not escape Hermann now: Newton’s tears, the way he’d flung himself at Hermann’s side, sponged Hermann’s brow and forced food and water down his throat, held Hermann throughout each night, each bought of wracking shivers, and not left his side until it’d all passed.
The tenderness with which he did it all, palpable to Hermann even through the haze of fever. “It has not,” Hermann assures him; Newton visibly relaxes, “but I am terribly glad you’ve come. Will you take tea with me?”
“I should be getting back to the lab,” Newton admits. “They don’t even know I’ve left.”
“Tea,” Hermann says again. “We can talk.” Then, pointedly, “Father is out.”
“Oh,” Newton says. “Oh.”
Hermann shows him to his private study further down the hall and--never quite at ease with his father’s over-reliance on the household staff, and quite at ease with balancing objects on one hand--fetches them the tea tray himself. Newton has already made himself comfortable on Hermann’s small chaise when he returns, waistcoat and boots flung across the room, and he’s evidently drawn the curtains and stoked the fire back to life. It crackles merrily in the corner fireplace and bathes Newton in a warm orange glow. “Cake, too?” he says when Hermann sets the tray down in front of him. “You’re a godsend.”
Hermann unbelts his gown and graces him with a small smile. “Uneaten from a luncheon my sister hosted,” he says. “I know you’re fond of them.”
Newton shoves two in his mouth; he washes them down with a swiftly-poured, and clearly scalding, cup of tea, wincing all the while. “I am,” he says. “Take a seat, will you. Do you want sugar today?”
There is a smudge of pink frosting at the corner of Newton’s mouth. Crumbs on his shirt. “Not today,” Hermann says. He settles his cane against the side of the chaise, and then settles himself in next to Newton. Newton slides him his tea. “Thank you.”
Newton makes himself even more comfortable once he finishes off the last of his cup, lowering his head to the chaise cushion to rest inches from Hermann’s knee, hands settled in his lap, legs stretched out to dangle over the opposite end. Not touching--never touching. He has a lazy smile fixed on his face as he gazes up at Hermann. Throat bared. (The picture of hedonism, Hermann cannot help but think. He is gorgeous.) “What did you want to talk about?” Newton says, after some minutes of pleasant silence pass.
“Hm?” Hermann says. He’d like to push the soft brown hair (slightly damp from the rain) from Newton’s face. Pull off his thick glasses. Run his fingers over the rough stubble of his cheeks, drag them down to his mouth--his pink mouth-- “Oh,” he says. “I wanted to thank you. I realized I never properly did so.”
“You’ve thanked me plenty,” Newton says dismissively. “We’re friends. Friends do these sorts of things for each other.”
“You put yourself at great risk for me,” Hermann says. Unable to help himself, strokes back a few strands of that soft hair: Newton does not push him away, but leans into the touch.
“That feels good,” he says. “You’d’ve done the same.”
“I would’ve,” Hermann agrees, too earnest, not caring that he is playing the cards that should be kept to his chest much too fast, much too soon. “In a heartbeat, Newton. I...” He swallows around a sudden lump in his throat, around the unintentional confession that threatens to spill out. He’s certain Newton knows it anyway. (Hermann is not subtle in his stolen touches and glances.)
Newton’s smile flickers, but does not fade. Something curious passes behind his eyes--understanding, perhaps. “Hermann,” he says. His pink tongue swipes across his pink lips. “You,” he tries again. Words seem to fail him; he reaches for the hand Hermann’s pressed to his hair and begins to drag it, slowly, assuredly, to that pink mouth. Hermann does not move.
There is a small flurry of noise far down the hallway: the front door opening. “Hermann?”
“Damn,” Hermann hisses. It’s his father. Newton drops his hand and leaps to his feet.
“My boots,” he says, “where are my damn--fuck--”
He stumbles to the corner and shoves his stocking’d feet back into his dirty boots, pulls his waistcoast back on, rights his shirt, hastily buttons up both. His face is flushed a deep red and creased with guilt. Hermann imagines his own is in a similar state. (They have nothing to be guilty for, he reminds himself. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.) “In here,” he calls, dazedly.
Newton arranges himself at the fireplace mantle and adopts a look of cool boredom just in time for Hermann’s father to swing the study door open. He is stone-faced and stern as usual, even more so as he glances between them--lingering particularly over Hermann, his dressing gown, his dishevelment, the visible blush from Newton’s touch. “I was informed you were absent from your laboratory today,” he says. “You and Dr. Geiszler.”
Rain flecks the shoulders of his overcoat, which he’s not even bothered to take off: he’s clearly stormed home from his own office as fast as he could. “I woke up feeling rather, ah, under the weather,” Hermann stammers, “so I stayed in. Dr. Geiszler merely wanted to ensure it was nothing serious. He was worried, you see, considering my recent illness.”
“I’m certain,” Father says. He does not nod when he greets Newton, if Hermann can even call it a greeting: narrowed eyes, and an unimpressed “Dr. Geiszler.”
“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newton says, and, to Hermann’s equal part amusement and horror, gives an obnoxious bow. “Sir.”
Father’s lips curl down. “Get dressed,” he snaps at Hermann. Then, turning back to Newton, “As you can see, Dr. Geiszler, my son is far from death’s door, so your concern is misplaced. You’re welcome to leave. You must have plenty of work of your own to see to.”
“No!” Hermann says (hardly believing his own daring--contradicting his father is something he does not do--and ignoring Newton’s tiny smile of pride across the room.) He pushes himself to his feet unsteadily. “No, I would prefer Ne--Dr. Geiszler stay.”
“It’s fine, Hermann,” Newton says, emphasizing ‘Hermann’ too-loudly. Newton has never cared to use Hermann’s title in lieu of his first name, and he’s certainly not going to pretend to now. “I’ll go. Rest up. We have our dinner engagement tomorrow, after all, and if you skip out on me I’ll be furious.”
They have no dinner engagement. Or--had no engagement. Hermann is more than happy to treat this as the invitation Newton obviously intends. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Tomorrow.”
He extends a trembling hand in Newton’s direction; Newton steps forward and takes it in a mere companionable handshake, yet Hermann cannot help but feel the ghost of the far more intimate one they left unfinished. Behind them, Hermann’s father sweeps from the study to undoubtedly wait pointedly in the foyer for Newton. Then Newton ducks closer. “Come to my rooms tomorrow,” he breathes, so quiet Hermann can scarcely hear. “We’ll say we decided to take a long dinner.”
“A long...?”
Newton lifts Hermann’s hand up--a mirror of earlier--and brushes his lips over the knuckles so gently, so reverently, that the air leaves Hermann’s lungs. It falls limply to his side when Newton releases it. He feels dizzy. “Tomorrow, Hermann,” Newton says.
“Tomorrow,” Hermann echoes faintly.
He sits by the parlor windows and watches Newton scurry off down the street until he’s a mere speck in the rain, and, unable to quell his smile, the small bloom of joy in his chest, touches his knuckles to his own mouth.
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