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#i usually listen to pieces in isolation from the rest of the performance which does take the song out of context in a way

adorehs · 4 years

Text

changing your tune

Hi I just wanted to mention that a lot of this might be inaccurate. This is based off of my time in my city's youth orchestra so while I’m sure some things transfer, but not everything. Kinda bad at the end per usual <3

Summary: Classical Musician!Y/N has created a simple life for herself consisting of herself, her music, and the boy she loves. Friends to lovers. (15.6k words)

Warnings: mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut, minor character death.

“I just think I need to have a fuller tone to really get the dark undertone of the music. Like, it’s so clearly meant to be this dark, horrible travesty but if I can’t get the tone right then it’s just this light and airy travesty. But I can’t bend the note just right, my air is, like, gone,” you vent out.

Harry watches you intently from where he sat in your study with a hand holding his chin up and an elbow on his knee, “I think it sounds great.”

You look at him unimpressed, “It’s all chalumeau. Of course it sounds good, it just doesn't sound right.”

“Right, so it’s in the lower register,” he mentally reminds himself, “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

You let out a sigh and pick up your clarinet from the stand it rested on, “It sounds kind of different without my custom, but the r13 will work for now,” you mumble, adjusting the reed and ligature on your mouthpiece, a nervous tick you picked up in school.

Your eyes flicker up to Harry, waiting for his glance of approval before you start. Your cheeks expertly swell and decompress in size as you circular breathe through the measures, your mind concentrated on the smooth transitions between rhythms and the registers, cutting the triplets short as you’ve written them.

The soothing noise of your clarinet fills the large room immediately, your forte becoming all too loud to process any thoughts. The victorian-styled room had low hanging lights that streamed a warm orange tone over the patterned chairs and built-in bookcase that held hundreds of music books with etudes you’ve mastered since your youth.

Though the warm tones made the room feel homely, the curtains were drawn back and the windows were opened ajar allowing a short breeze to flow in every two minutes. You knew better then to turn on a fan around your hand-crafted instrument. You understood the fluctuation it would cause if the temperature changed drastically day by day. This is why you were careful to turn the air conditioning off before you opened the window, keeping the temperature relatively steady through the day.

Harry watched you in pure concentration- he was truly enamoured by the way you lost yourself in music. He wanted to understand what you were saying but it was hard- he enjoyed music but was completely deaf when it came to describing the mood of a piece.

He worked with numbers, and loved it. A born accountant in your presence, watching you play your clarinet with what seems to be ease. But you seemed so distant from him. A whole world away. And how was he going to sweep you off your feet when he can hardly understand your career?

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as the technique became more difficult, effectively making you let off your clarinet and huff a breath of disapproval. Your heart was clearly pounding after the page you played at full tempo for effect, but you tried not to show the effect the music had on your body.

You reached for your pencil before erasing a note you had written and writing another one in, a higher register G#. The graphite smeared on the yellow-tinted manuscript book that sat on the music stand before you, everything shaking lightly as vigorously colored in the line and drew in a staccato articulation above the sixteenth note.

Forgetting Harry’s presence, you picked up your clarinet once again and played the same measure in sets of five, increasing the tempo by four beats each time, before deciding it is satisfactory for now.

Your face only showed a slight upturn, as you wrote in a new measure, testing how the chord would resolve with some soft air and incomplete vibrations through the wooden block. Minor chord or major? you asked yourself.

Harry’s eyes watched yours as they darted across the room from your clarinet, to your manuscript, to your metronome, which was silently flashing a red light at a tempo of 180 and a subdivision of eighth notes.

He wondered who taught you so harshly- he’d never seen someone so critical of their own work. You liked to make everything very perfect in a meticulous way- you knew just when to linger on the seventh of a chord to leave an uneasy feeling in the pit of one;s stomach and you were stellar when it came to expressing a story and emotion through your music. At least that’s what Harry thought.

“So where does your tone need to get fuller?” he asks again.

You looked up at him, slightly shocked. You had forgotten he was there, “When I get higher, like, near the F#. It has no depth to the note and it sounds like a playground piece,” you explain softly, watching as his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“So you want it to sound darker when the octave goes up?” he confirms one more time.

You nod, “Yeah. Want it to sound more emotional and thoughtful. It also makes me sound like a stylistically competent player,” your eyes flicker back to the page in an instant.

“I think your style is good. You have a good variety in the symphony, too. They’ll like this one. Get the solo down and then ask some people to come and play with you,” Harry comments, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants as he sits back further in the chair. The heavy fabric makes a dissatisfying pulling noise as Harry moves around in the chair, resting his hands on the dark wooden arms with ornate carvings on the ends.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “They haven’t taken my last three. If I can just make one good one, I can take some more risks and possibly compose a whole symphony,” you pause, making eye contact with Harry again, “But that’ll take years. Probably only when I retire from the orchestra.”

“They are good,” Harry argues weakly. He doesn’t know how to convince you because all he knows is that he likes it.

“Well clearly they’re not as good as you and I think,” you counter with a huff, picking up your clarinet once more before playing the same piece from the beginning.

After an overextended work week, Harry was excited to go out and have some fun with his friends. He was still a ripe twenty-six year old, working long and hard hours as a starting budget analyst, hoping to be promoted higher within the job and lighten his workload- at least that's what everyone promised will happen. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of going out and celebrating his friends.

It was an all too familiar setting- a sticky, trashed bar with little to no care given to the seats that were falling apart at the seams. He found himself thinking of the frat parties you had described to him when he asked what Greek Life was.

But, he was there to celebrate one of his colleagues' birthdays. It was her twenty-fifth, so he found himself understanding the want for a big party. The bar might have been trashed but it was large and suitable for the hundreds of people she seemed to invite.

And among the hundreds, he only viewed one. You.

You wore a dress that you pulled from the back of your closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in college. You wore it to special events and networking parties, but you found it all too nice to wear to most other situations you found yourself in.

Harry had definitely forgotten your connection to his colleague, or better known as your sister. He watched as you greeted her with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, an awkward side hug was exchanged as everyone around you both cheered in excitement. You were pretty loved.

“Happy birthday Mon,” you repeat for the second time that day, “Hope the year treats you well.”

Your sister smiled in response, “Off to a great start,” she eyes the party reviving behind you, “I’m glad you could make it. Thought you’d have a performance tonight.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Requested this day off a year ago. Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year!”

Your sister glances at you with a look of amusement, “Happy Monica day is your favorite of the year?”

“Yup, love happy Monica day,” you reiterate.

Monica opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by a deep British accent, “Happy birthday Mon!” you hear from behind you.

You turn around quickly, side stepping to allow Harry into your conversation. He leans into your sister before granting her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “How are you?” he asks, replacing your spot in front of her.

You smile at Monica and halfheartedly wave a goodbye as you slowly make your way over to the bar to order some food. You decided a year ago that you were going to stop drinking. At first, it was a hard choice to make. You were used to having a drink in most social situations, especially being a young adult working with people of all ages. It was a common scene to find you in- an after party with hundreds of musicians having a glass of champagne or white wine in celebration.

You sat yourself on a deep crimson stool, swirling slightly as you waited for your sliders to be given to you. Watching as people met and reconnected was isolating for you. You knew very few people Monica worked with and found yourself just shy of saying hi to someone who looked friendly every time you were at a gathering such as this one.

Nodding a silent thank you as your sliders were placed in front of you, your attention shifts. It was the loud talking and blaring music that made your brain want to go into overdrive, never quite getting used to noises you couldn’t control.

“Hi, Y/N,” you feel a body slide into the seat beside you. You couldn’t exactly pin whose voice it was at first listen so you shift your body towards them and slide the plate between you two as a peace offering.

“Hey,” you reply, making eye contact with one of Monica’s friends you met when she first started working at the firm.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m alright, Louis. And yourself?”

“I’m quite alright. Been working a lot. Itching to get promoted,” he lets out a small laugh, “But who isn’t.”

You shoot him a grin, “Not sure, I love my job.”

“When’re you playing next? Love to come see you play. Haven't been to the new show yet,” he leans in towards you and takes a slider before leaning back again.

“Play Thursday to Sunday every week until November. Then we switch to Christmas ballets,” you tell him with a grin, “I recommend Thursday or Sunday, though. Best prices and best crowd.”

He nods in confirmation, “I’ll have to take Harry with me, know he’s been bugging me to go with him for a while.”

“Yeah, bring him! It’ll be fun, we can all go out after too!” you counter, dismissing Louis' comment about Harry’s insistent nature. That was just him, you thought.

“Definitely,” he agrees, “Plus it’s a nice way to unwind. I’ll definitely see if I can come soon.”

“Oh, please! I love seeing a familiar face. Feel like I play better,” you laugh, “Still get nervous, but Harry always tells me I’ll do amazing.”

“Harry’s good at that,” Louis agrees, “Always makes sure you don’t undersell yourself. And he’s right! You’re amazing.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, “Thank you! He’s definitely everyone's biggest cheerleader,” you joke. Turning around entirely in your stool, your eyes sift quickly through the crowd in search of Harry. “See, there he is,” you chortle, “Hyping up Niall as he chugs a,” you squint.

“A beer, probably,” Louis completes for you.

You both laugh and watch as Niall shoots up from his spot on the ground in victory before immediately falling back onto the ground with great dramatics. The room roars as Harry helps his friend stand back up and walks him over to the bathroom before swinging the door back open, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pauses for effect, “The boy lives!”

The room once again falls into a unison form of laughter as Niall appears behind Harry moments later, “Where’s the beer?” he shouts over the laughs, which quickly turn into cheers at his sportsmanship.

While Louis lets out a loud laugh at his friend's antics and moves towards the crowd to see more clearly, you looked up towards Harry. He dressed himself impressively well considering his lack of knowledge in the arts. Though he wore a simple outfit consisting of a red button up and black jeans, his confidence soared higher than anyone else’s you’d seen in a while.

His smile was infectious and seemed to fill his whole face and as his eyes raised to meet yours it grew to a tenfold. Speaking with his body language, you somehow sensed that he wanted you to get up and join him.

You shook your head with a smile and mouthed ‘I’m fine here!’ only to receive a ‘What!?’ in response. You shook your head in defeat and stood up, mouthing the same phrase only slower.

Harry replied with a look of realization and instantaneously, a pout replaced his smile. You frowned at your effect on him, not wanting him to feel upset because of you of all people.

You stood up and slowly started making your way over to him, allowing the smile to rediscover its place on his lips. He was watching you near him, when his head suddenly snapped towards a high pitched scream coming from your sister, “It’s midnight!” she shouts.

Harry chuckles at her dramatics and smiles when he feels your body press up against his side. He didn’t have to look to know it was you, he could smell your distinct perfume as you neared him and he was happy knowing you found comfort around him- though that should’ve been clear from the nights upon nights you spend together, him listening to your music and you listening to his rants.

Monica was handed a bottle of champagne and she stepped into the middle of the corner you all occupied, people filing in suit around her and forming a circular crowd.

“Hey everyone! Uh- thank you so much for coming- I mean it. It means a lot to me to be surrounded by a bunch of people I love on my favorite day of the year!” She jokes, earning some light laughs and a few words of endearment thrown back at her. “No, seriously, thanks a lot, and,” she trails off, her thoughts too blurry for her planned speech, “Here’s to twenty five!” she cheers, shaking the champagne bottle, allowing it to pop and spray all over. She quickly spins in an attempt to spray everyone, but the champagne bubbles over and only gets half the group.

You and Harry both laugh, shaking your hands to get the sticky substance off your bodies. “She tries every year and never succeeds,” you tell him.

He chuckles in response, “She gets too drunk to remember.”

“Or she just thinks that she’s sober enough to get it this year,” you laugh back.

Harry laughs and nods, “Definitely. She thinks she’s perfectly fine,” he points at Monica who is going around the circle and hugging everyone in thanks. “To be fair she looks okay,” he adds.

“She always does,” you agree with Harry.

The two of you fall silent and you stand back watching your sister make rounds. Harry’s hand creeps onto your back as he steps closer to you, bringing you in front of him. He hums along to the song you couldn’t remember the name of that was blaring on the speakers and he basks in the glory of being in your presence.

Soon enough, your sister had made her way over to the two of you, hugging you both and exchanging her thanks for coming and just as quick as she came, she left you two alone.

“So, uh,” Harry starts.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna leave. Got an early start tomorrow,” you tell Harry, pointing at the door.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, you should go,” he stammers.

You smile at him, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later?” you asked, stepping towards Monica to say a final happy birthday and goodnight.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods in confirmation.

You wave before finding your sister and saying goodnight, then driving yourself back home.

Harry was sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap and a blanket covering his legs. He was doing some research in an attempt to find books that could teach him about music theory.

He told himself he wanted to be more involved in his friends' lives and further his education in one of his weakest subjects- music. But in reality, it was clear to those around him that he wanted to impress you and be more involved in your life and yours only. They had never seen him pick up a book on physical therapy or take a quick online course on python- he was doing it all purely for you.

He was contemplating if he should invest in a book or just take a free online course, both seemed like viable options but he wanted to optimize his time. He wanted to make it click faster.

He decided he’d try the online course and take his chances and if he still didn’t understand he would invest in a book.

So there he was on a Tuesday evening sitting in bed with his headphones in learning how basic chords were made. He wrote notes as if he was still in school and studied them after each lesson. He wasn’t fully immersed in the world like you were, but he felt as though he could carry a bit more of a conversation with you about music, especially when compared to before.

Harry was learning slowly but surely and in about a week he could, in theory, explain how to develop a minor chord from it’s major among various other basics (that you would probably think were common knowledge) but he had no recollection of learning.

As per usual, he spent every Monday and Wednesday evening with you. On Mondays, you would have movie night and on Wednesdays, he would get some work done in your office while you played. It never truly distracted him, either. Honestly, it made him feel very peaceful and he found that the routine was more about being in the presence of each other rather than making memories.

One Wednesday, he had completed his work early and as usual, he would sit and see what you had composed to help give his limited input on your compositions.

Typically, he would sit and listen silently with a slight tilt to his head while he thought up a thoughtful comment about your playing. You would always sit there anxiously, with your posture beginning to slouch since you were not playing anymore, waiting for a comment that you both knew would be neither helpful or negative.

Harry was good at that. He was good at making you feel like you were doing good with absolute sincerity and not a single waiver of his voice. His face would stay straight and he would find the good in it all. It was probably your favorite part of the man who sat with you on the particular day.

This time, unlike the last, your window was shut tight and you were trying your hardest to keep your hands steady. You couldn’t make the piece sound right. It sounded okay but that would not get you signed. It needed to be calculated and perfect in a theoretical standpoint. It also needed to be simple enough to split into parts for larger groups but difficult enough to have solo excerpts from each instrument- in case a full orchestra didn’t work.

And that was difficult to accomplish.

Harry knew that and he agreed- how could one person who hadn’t ever been signed make such an elaborate piece? He thought it was absolutely absurd that to maximize your chances you had to make the piece a combination of just about everything.

You sat with the same face as you usually did, one pleading for some sort of advice or criticism. What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to deliver.

“Think if you made it a minor chord instead of a major and ended on the seventh it could bring some edge,” Harry eventually says.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion, “Yeah, uh, let me try that,” you stammered.

You covered what you had written with a sticky note, drawing on the new scale. You showed Harry the note and asked him if that was what he was thinking, to which he replied yes. You nod lightly and play the piece once again from the beginning, swaying slightly as you approached lyrical bits and narrowed your air stream to control your volume.

Harry nods along with your playing, pausing slightly in places he could tell you didn’t like much. Eventually, he watches as you play what he had suggested, anxiety rising up his throat in fear of not being accepted.

“Think I like it. But I need to fix some of the other stuff too,” you told him once you finished. “It would definitely feel right that way.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He rounded the long desk and joined you where you sat by the window in an uncomfortable chair made to help keep your posture near perfect. He crouched down so he could be eye level with your music and furrowed his brows.

You watched as he read the notes carefully, taking his time as he took in each technically challenging measure and the lyrically soft measures in contrast. You grew anxious for his approval so you busied yourself by taking the sticky note off of the manuscript and erasing and redrawing the notes for the new scale Harry advised you to add.

You took your time, slowly coloring each eighth note, the graphite crumbling down the page, leaving a light smear as you wiped it away with the side of your hand.

Harry looked up at you, “I think you should change this,” he points, “Make it flat and get rid of this note entirely,” he spoke slowly. You watch as his finger indicates each note and you nod along softly.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you agree.

He nods in response and rests his hand on your thigh, you hardly notice the action that felt natural in the moment.

You temporarily wrote in each suggestion and played the piece again from the beginning, a process the two of you were becoming increasingly annoyed with. As you approached the measure he had pointed out, your mind wondered: how did he know all this and why didn’t he mention any of it before?

Your air slowed down as your mind wandered and your fingers followed closely after, a ritardando, Harry noted. He hadn’t mentioned tempo but he found that bringing the piece down to cut time brought a new feeling that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Abruptly, you stopped, and Harry knew you didn’t realize. You both sat in silence for a moment before Harry stood up and moved back over to where he was sitting previously. He cleared his throat, “I’m gonna head out. Good luck Y/N,” he rushed out.

You shook your head in disbelief. You truly didn’t understand what just happened. But, you shook it off and tried again, keeping the ritardando.

Harry on the other hand, was in a state of panic. He had realized what he had done and he thought she did too, resulting in her abrupt stopping point.

Harry had begun to understand that he was in love with you. And he didn’t know until just then. But he had done everything just for you.

The following Sunday Harry finally managed to drag Louis out of his city apartment and downtown to the Meyerson Symphony Center where you were to perform Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Neither Harry or Louis have seen you perform this particular show so they were late to learn that you had auditioned for and successfully got the clarinet solo in a particular piece from the Symphony named Scherzo.

You had explained to Harry your appeal to this particular symphony- you found it to be unique of all the others that accompanied Shakespeare's work. Instead of relaying a difficult emotion or putting a satirical spin on a human issue like his other works did, you found Midsummer to be a pure romp into romance and the abnormalities of love.

And though you hadn’t been in love for a while, you found yourself feeling the emotion wholly through both the piece and music in it of itself.

Harry had read midsummer before- in fact he had seen it live with his mum and sister when he was younger, but he never understood the effect the music had on the play. He never looked into the contextualization of the play, let alone the deeper aspirations of it.

He understood music theory but he still had trouble analyzing music itself. He couldn’t pinpoint moods by just listening- he needed to see it written out which he believed hindered his ability to enjoy music to its fullest extent.

Needless to say, Harry entered the theater with Louis with a thought of determination. All he wanted was to find a way to understand the music and appreciate it as you did. They were both clad in matching suits, a simple black and white for the symphony, and made their way to the middle where their tickets directed them. Harry sat in the aisle and Louis sat right next to him, whispering in excitement of the show.

“I fucking love this story,” Louis says.

Harry lets out a quiet laugh, “I hardly remember it.”

Louis joins Harry in laughter and shrugs, “Oh well, it’ll still be good.”

Harry nods in agreement and turns away from Louis as the curtains open and the lights dim.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you on this stage, but he found himself mesmerized as he found you with his eyes. He watched as you scanned the crowd quickly, your eyes jumping past him and Louis a few times before you recognized your friends. You shot them each a relieved smile and sat up straighter in your chair.

The conductor cast a smile at everyone before beginning the first piece, the Overture making its debut in the room. Just as Harry was used to, the melodic sounds filled the room to the brim, every last corner feeling the pure emotion that was put into the piece.

Harry couldn’t describe the feeling but he knew he was proud. He understood that watching you in your element is probably the worst thing he could do for himself, but he had to. It was pure torture to watch you fall in love with something that wasn’t him, but he loved the way it happened.

You lost yourself so easily and he felt as though you were the loudest in the room. He could hear your sound over everyone else's, your instrument being isolated from all the others in his mind. Harry could swear he had never been so proud in his life to see someone do what they love.

As the overture came to a close, his hands met in applause and he felt the need to stand up just so you would know how much he loved it. But as quickly as he started, he stopped his applause and the next piece was beginning.

No. 1 Scherzo. It was the second piece on the track and your personal favorite for reasons you would not disclose to Harry. He had heard you practice it a few times before, nodding along as he recognized fragments of the piece.

It was around three minutes into the piece when Harry learned why it was your favorite. Because it was just you. You were the only one playing- your solo bringing tears to his eyes. It was just that moment when you looked up and made eye contact with Harry, him nodding with a large grin on his face with reassurance, you’re doing amazing, it read.

When you looked back up at your music, your eyes narrowing in concentration, you failed to notice the look on Harry’s face. His phone had buzzed and he found himself confused- he was sure he put it on silent. The feeling that was elicited was nothing but good, so he decided to go check just for some peace of mind.

He stood up, pointing at his phone when Louis questioned him silently, gaining a nod of approval as Harry exited the theater in a rush.

The second he exited the room that was beginning to become overly stuffy and constricting, he took a deep breath and told himself you’re probably just overreacting.

Harry was anywhere from overreacting. It was that exact moment that he had received a text that was pushed through do not disturb. The text was from his mum and read nothing but horrible news. The five words that found themselves on his screen that illuminated his face as he stood right next to the door called him a coward. They read: This contact has dialed 999.

Harry understood the severity of the situation but he didn’t know what to do. All he knew is that she called- he didn’t know why or where she was. He didn’t know if he had to book a flight back home or not.

Just as Harry was getting up and leaving for his own agenda, you had finished your solo. You looked up once again, hearing the applause and searching for Harry once more. But this time, you found Louis sat alone with a large grin creeping across his face and his applause filling the space next to him.

You had never felt as hurt as you did in that moment. He had left you. Harry, the man you now realized you love, found something more important than you and your aspirations, and there was no physical way that it wouldn’t sting. What you didn’t know was that as your heart was breaking, Harry’s mum’s was.

It had taken two hours for someone to answer the phone. Two hours for Harry to spend most of his savings on a red eye to the London airport. Ten hours for him to touch down in London. Three to make his way to the hospital next to his childhood home.

He was distraught to say the least.

He had left without mention of what was happening, his phone exploding with texts from Louis and Monica making sure he was okay, but not a word from you. He felt betrayed, but he understood. You had things going on too and he wasn’t the center of your universe.

The hospital looked sterile, not a single thing out of place. The walls were coated in a pristine white color that nearly blinded Harry’s bloodshot eyes, and he spent a few minutes catching his breath before he asked where his dad was.

He walked sluggishly onto the elevator, the weight of reality crushing him as he waited for what seemed like ages but really was hardly forty seconds for the elevator to jolt to a stop. When it stepped off, he saw what he imagined to be organized chaos.

People were walking quickly up and down the lengths of the corridor and he found himself passing by far too many crying people to think anything good could ever happen in a hospital- not revival nor birth.

He walked the length of the corridor in silence, taking in his surroundings. He was in shock- he could hardly even process that he was in England, let alone why he was there. It was only when he stopped shortly at the sight of his mum and sister sleeping, their heads resting on each other's, that he realized the severity of what was happening.

And so, with a deep breath, he sat down on the floor before them, resting his back lightly against the leg chairs and he rested his forehead on his knees. It didn’t seem like his life that he was living- he felt like this was all a vivid dream, but it wasn’t. It was less than twenty four hours ago that he was with Louis watching your performance and now he sat with his family outside of his father's hospital room praying he would be okay.

Harry was one of hopeful thinking and that was made apparent when a doctor exited his father's room with a stack of papers.

Harry was the first to stand, followed by his mother and sister, who were unsure of when he had arrived. He shook hands with the doctor, who he learned was named doctor Wilson. He was clad in the same scrubs as every other doctor but Harry found his to be a special type of unattractive- or maybe that was his subconscious distracting himself from the situation at hand.

Doctor Wilson cleared his throat as Anne made her way next to Harry, Gemma shielding herself from the news from behind him, “So,” he cleared his throat “Mr. Styles came in about a year ago to have his lungs screened, as you may know, and he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer,” he nodded.

“Well, Mr. Styles seems to have,” he left a pregnant pause in his sentence, “He seems to have the cancer cells spreading rapidly. We would like to put him on a self contained respirator and monitor him closely to give you some more accurate information about his cancer and give you some answers within a few hours,” he says slowly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief- his father had never mentioned cancer let alone a screening.

“Thank you doctor,” he heard Anne speak from behind him. He sent a last glance at the broken family and moved back into the room.

It was the first you had heard from him in about half a week. He had called you on Wednesday after not answering your messages asking if he will make his way over on Monday for your movie night.

“Hi,” you answer softly.

“Hey- uh,” you heard some shuffling, “Hey.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, “Are you coming over?”

There was a long pause on Harry’s end and you just about opened your mouth to confirm that he could hear you when he replied, “No,” he said shortly. “I- uh- I’m at home.”

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked in confusion.

“No, like, I’m in the UK,” he quickly corrected you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, leaving a pregnant pause on your end, “Oh,” you replied.

“Yeah, I-” you could hear a few other voices in the background and you imagined they were his mum and sister, “My dad- he’s not doing so good. He has stage four lung cancer.”

“Oh,” you let out again. “I- uh- sorry, I really just don’t know what to say right now.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, which you could tell had bitter undertones, “That’s alright… don’t exactly know what to say myself.”

“I- uh- I’m really sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “God I feel like such an ass,” you expressed.

Harry’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked up at his mum to ensure she wasn’t listening, “No need, I promise it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.”

“I just- I was so mad at you for leaving and not saying anything and ignoring me. Thought I did something wrong or you were mad at me,” you explain. “Didn’t know what was going on and I was scared that I lost you.”

“Couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Harry laughed softly, you joining his laughter momentarily.

“Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going?” Harry asked after a long moment of silence.

“No- not at all. Was mainly just worried,” you reassure him, “I totally understand,” but you didn’t. How could he not tell you? Did he not think you deserved to know why he left when you were playing for him?

“I’m really sorry. Kinda just fell off the face of the Earth for a few days. Was anticipating the news and trying to stay strong for my mum and Gemma,” he explains.

Before you could reply, Harry starts again, “Hey, uh, we’re going back to the hospital so I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he says quickly before hanging up and leaving you alone in your study, clarinet in front of you.

You truly didn’t know how to cope with what just happened- it felt like heartbreak on two spectrums- family and lover. But he was neither, which hurt even more.

You picked up the piece of handcrafted wood that sat in front of you and tried your hardest to pour your heartbreak into the piece- adding pain, edge, and suffering to the nearly- done piece in an attempt to exert your feelings into something productive.

It worked like a charm, which was something you felt bad mentioning. You found yourself falling in love with the piece, fractures of your heart making up every line and the composition falling right into place as your muse fell right apart across the world.

It was the next morning when you received the message from Harry: He’s gone. In his sleep. I’ll be home in a week. Gotta sort some things out. -H

Harry arrived home that following Tuesday and he was exhausted but grateful to be back to his tiny townhouse in the middle of a city with his friends surrounding him.

He felt as though coping wasn’t an option anymore- he had taken up a whole week for that and in this moment in time he felt as though he had already done enough coping.

There was a memorial service the weekend after his father died and to say Harry’s family were crushed would be an understatement.

Anne, Gemma, and Harry each had prepared a speech for the service and none of them felt as though they could do the senior Styles any justice. He was a good man and they couldn’t even begin to explain that to everyone there. Nobody could understand the pain in the same way as they did, so they did their best to remember him in the best light.

Harry was mainly happy for one thing- the following day was Wednesday. He had taken off the rest of the week so he could recover from any jet lag and start the new week back with a fresh start, so he knew that tomorrow would be a great day to catch up. With work and with you.

He hadn’t seen a single person since he was back but upholding the tradition was important to him. He favored you over most all his friends anyway, so when he parked his old car in the driveway of the large house you inherited from your grandparents, he was excited.

He knocked twice and rang your doorbell once,queuing you to open the door in shock less than a minute after. “What are you doing here?” you ask confused, pulling Harry into a long hug. You had missed him on his ten days of abstinence from you.

“Got back yesterday, can’t skip out on tradition,” he shoots you a smile, letting go of your warm embrace. You took a moment to look at him before deciding he wanted a distraction from everything going on in his life.

You open the door further, beckoning him to come in, “Well come on, I need your opinion on my piece,” you gesture towards your office dramatically.

Harry chuckles and bows in thanks, “After you,” he says with a posh accent.

You both laugh, heading inside to where your things were set up and ready to go. He sat down in the same chair as he always does and you round the desk to sit where your clarinet was standing and your manuscript laid.

“Okay, so I added, kind of a lot, while you were gone,” you warm him.

He nodded and gestured for you to play, “Well go on then. Show me what you added,” he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at Harry and your music a few times each in an attempt to correlate the two in your mind- this was your Harry and he would never hurt you. You began to play the piece that you had become sickly familiar with but Harry found himself utterly perplexed at the sound of a new beginning. You had nearly changed the entire beginning and Harry loved it.

He found it to be oddly comforting to listen to you for what felt like the first time ever but in reality it was just another sense of stability in the world you two had created- the world that was exclusively Harry and Y/N.

The moment you reached the end, a bit he had helped you with, you found yourself stumbling over your composition, making Harry's brow furrow together. You were a perfectionist when it came to music- you loved the control that came with being able to play flawlessly and change how it all came together and he found it odd that you of all people were messing up something you had written in for weeks.

“Sorry,” you let out a huff, running a hand through your hair, “I’m really stressed and it’s really making this all worse.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “You should take a break,” he tells you with full seriousness.

You look at him with a blank face for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Harry looked at you confused, “I’m serious.”

“Harry this is my job. This is equivalent to me getting a promotion. I can’t stop!” you explain harshly.

Harry nodded, “I understand. Just-” he paused, “Just come with me, okay?”

“No, Harry, I can't, I have to do this,” you stood your ground.

“Y/N,” he spoke firmly, “If you hate this and want to kick me out for a week and let you compose on your own after this, you can. Just come.”

You let out a sigh and deliberated your options, “Fine. But there is a high chance you’re not showing up at my door for a week,” you point an accusatory finger at Harry.

He raises his hands in defense, “Okay, noted. Let’s go slowpoke,” he teased.

You flashed him your middle finger and a toothy grin before packing up your clarinet and setting it on your desk. You follow Harry out to his car and get in the passenger seat as he starts the car and makes his way out of your neighborhood.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry replied, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re so annoying,” you reply.

“You love me,” he states smugly, making your eyes grow the size of saucers.

“Not right now I don’t” you tease once you recover from your previous state of shock.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Home Depot. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

You wondered why he could be taking you to Home Depot of all places- not getting food or going shopping to find another piece of clothing you don’t need.

Harry parked easily before exiting the car, you follow after him in a haste. You have to job to catch up with Harry who seems to be walking a mile a minute to get into the building, “What the fuck are we doing here?” you ask again.

“We,” Harry says, pointing at the two of you, “Are going to paint that white wall in your office,” he says with a smile.

Your face mirrors his, a grin of your own making its way across your face. You had mentioned to Harry months ago that you were itching to paint the room but you never made the time for yourself to do that.

This time, it was you who took the lead, teasing Harry for taking too long to make his way into the store. You find your way to the back of the store where you see a few employees mixing paint for customers and you find your way to the pantone swatches, Harry immediately picking up a brown one, “I think it’ll match the wood, no?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No I want it to be your hair color.”

Harry’s mouth opens in realization before grabbing another strip. He squints, reading the name aloud, “Werge,” he says confused.

You fall into a fit of laughter before moving down the wall to look at the blues, the color you were actually hoping to get.

With Harry’s unwillingness to be serious and your contagious laughs, it took you forty five minutes to find the color you had seen online a few months ago and had screenshotted on your phone.

You make your way over to an employee and ask for a gallon of the deep navy color, paying and making your way back into Harry’s car within a few minutes.

Your knee was bouncing in anticipation on your way home and you didn’t realize until Harry rested his palm on it, asking you, “What’s got you so nervous?” to which you reply:

“Not nervous, just excited.”

Harry chuckled and kept his hand there for the rest of the ride to your house, which you found to be far too close then you wanted it to be.

You both found yourselves in your garage loading your arms with painters tape and tarp to ensure your room is painted to perfection and not too messy afterwards.

You spilled some paint into the tray and used a roller to begin putting the fresh paint on the middle of the wall. Harry gasps when he sees the color in contrast with the wood that covered every other wall in the room, “It matches so well,” he comments, using a smaller brush to begin on the bottom strip of the wall where the painters tape stuck.

He sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, and you stood a few feet to his left, the paint sitting between the two of you.

You nod, “I know, it compliments the wood really well.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not the wood. I meant it matches my eyes,” he draws out.

You roll your eyes and let out a shut up before looking at him.

“Seriously,” he persists, setting his head next to the gallon that sat on the floor.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded slowly, dipping your roller back onto the tray, allowing the residue to fall off before you rolled a bit on his face and shirt.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up immediately.

“I had to check!” you exclaim innocently. “You know, now that I look, I think you’re right. It does match, we should use more,” you conclude.

“Now that I look,” Harry starts, with an evil glint in his eye, “I think this is the color your shirt is missing,” he concludes, flinging his brush in your direction allowing the paint to fall on your face and shirt.

“Oh my god!” you shout as Harry doubles over in laughter.

You bring your brush into the paint once more, taking a threatening step towards Harry. He flinches, making you chuckle and redirect the paint onto the wall again, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

He begins again on the bottom edge and before you could think you're safe, Harry gets paint on your ankle from where he sat on the floor.

You let out a loud gasp, “This is war!” you exclaim.

“Or you can just admit that you needed a break,” Harry shrugs, “It’s quite simple.”

You narrow your eyes and look at him, “I am going to cover you in paint. It’s quite simple,” you mock him childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh before painting the rest of your ankle, making a ring around your foot.

It had taken two hours to complete painting the wall and to complete your paint war. You and Harry found yourselves in your backyard while your sprinklers were spraying the grass.

“Best way to clean,” Harry breathed out.

“You say you’re one with nature but what are you going to say when my grass is blue?” you ask him as you scrub at your legs to get off the paint.

“I’ll say part of me is really with nature this time,” he says shaking the water out of his hair as he walks towards the hose that was attached to the side of your house.

You shake your head in disbelief, “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say, looking at Harry as he walks towards you with the hose gushing water out.

You step towards him and let him spray you down and you watch as the paint falls off your skin and into the grass, your shirt clinging to your body.

Harry tries to keep his attention on your face and not on the black bra that begins to show from your wet shirt that stuck to your body like a second skin.

You fiddled with the fit of your shirt, trying to make sure you were comfortable, before scrubbing your arms and legs clean.

Harry and you had decided after the first hit that you would do your best to avoid each other's faces just to make everything easier when it came to cleaning.

You rinse your hair fully before deciding you're as clean as you’d get without using a proper shower (which you didn’t want to turn blue from the paint), so you stepped towards Harry with your arm extended towards him.

“My turn,” Harry says softly, handing you the hose before spreading his arms out and letting the water hit his entire body, “This feels nice,” he comments.

“You’re crazy,” you reply. Harry shakes his head and takes his shirt off in an attempt to get everything off and you almost look away instinctively- you weren’t supposed to see your friend like this.

He allows the pressure of the hose to get most of the paint off his body but he seems a bit carefree about the cleanliness of his body at this point- you’re assuming this is the distraction you both needed from your mundane lives.

Harry finishes off with the hose and you run inside to grab the two of you towels, opting to stay outside for the rest of the night.

You both sit outside on the back porch swing that sat in your yard, wrapped in towels so you don’t get too cold in the autumn air. “You were right,” you mutter, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“About?” Harry edges you on and you can practically hear him smiling through his words.

“I needed a break.”

What felt like a year was only two months and in those two months you had accomplished what you had been attempting since eighteen. You finished what seemed to be the perfect piece from a technical standpoint.

It told a story of betrayal and heartbreak and it included a plethora of twists in tone and changes in tempo and unresolved keys to add edge and lead the listener on. The piece, in theory, was among the most perfect ones written.

At least that's what Harry told you and that's what you tried to tell yourself.

You had just finished the process of getting it all recorded, recruiting some of your friends from the orchestra to take home your manuscript that you wrote in harmonies and new melodies to.

You spent a week editing the music together, sending recordings back, asking for retakes, and adjusting volumes, tempos, and tone before you were satisfied with the music.

All in all, it was a musically complex and fundamentally difficult piece that could be extended into a show or turned into a series of simpler solos- whatever would get your music sold to a publisher, you were willing to do.

You had contacts from your previous attempts at selling your compositions, contacts that rejected you but told you to come back if you had something new. You did not take the suggestion lightly.

You had mastered an email with your pitch- stating your name and your credentials, attaching a file of the piece, along with the score which separated individual parts and showed their dynamic together. It was your life's work and a story you were excited to sell, and that is why you were particularly excited when you received an email back the following week.

The email, in short, explained that a publisher would like to meet with you and is interested in helping you publish the music and help you get on the radar of a symphonic orchestra.

You were a giddy mess leading up to your meeting, your leg shaking in anticipation and your heart beating so loud you swear you could feel it in your throat. So, when it arrived it felt surreal.

You stepped into the tall building in a haze, your hands clutching onto your score and your body clad in your favorite orchestral dress that you find to be the one you wear to the majority of your auditions. You call it your good luck charm.

The receptionist was short and directed you to the fifth floor and gave you strict instructions to wait to be called in by Flynn Bradford’s assistant. You sat in the waiting room with a warm overcoat covering your body in the meantime.

When you got called up your hands began to sweat. You find your way into Bradford’s office and with a nervous step forward, you take your jacket off and sit down on the small chair before his desk.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself with a handshake, Bradford immediately recognizing your name.

“Flynn Bradford, a pleasure,” he returns with a friendly smile.

He was a middle aged man with a few silver hairs peeking through, but he wore a friendly smile and seemed very composed nonetheless. He took your score and opened it immediately. He looked over it in silence for a few moments, you sitting on the edge of your seat.

“I do have to say, Ms. Y/L/N, I was waiting to meet you so I could go over this with you. I think you’re a brilliant composer,” he speaks slowly.

You swallow harshly, “Thank you so much,” you gush, “I’ve been at it since I was a kid so I’m glad you liked it.”

He nods again, sifting through the pages, “And I have to say I’m impressed by the tone in the demo and the overall markup of the piece. I think there are a few minor changes that we’d like to see done but all in all I think it’s good.”

You nod your head quickly, “Of course and I was expecting to do so. I- uh- how many changes are we thinking about here?”

“Well it’s still your piece, so quite minor ones just to increase your chances of having it sold to a school or a symphony. Or, you could keep it how it is but that might not be the easiest to sell.”

“Right, so hypothetically, if I get all the changes done and we’re satisfied within a few weeks, it can go off to you?” you ask in shock.

“It seems to be that way, yes. I’ll send you a contract and some markups once I get to talk with my team about this. It would be best to get your own lawyer to look over this for copyright purposes and to make sure you’re alright with all the fine print,” he advises.

“Yes, I will definitely do that, yeah. Thank you so much,” you reiterate.

He hums a reply and hands you back your score with a tight lipped smile, “So this meeting was a bit quicker and the other might be too depending on what you like and want. Remember all the corrections we send are suggestions so you do what you want and we’ll be alright with whatever you choose to do,” he reminds you.

You nod and shake his hand once more, leaving the building with bright eyes and a winning score in your hands.

The first instinct you had as you sat back into your car was to call Harry but you were so overwhelmed with excitement you decided that going to see him at his house would be a better idea.

After all, he deserved to be the first person to know because he helped you so much when it came to the composition of this piece.

You were smiling incredibly wide as you made your way over to his townhouse in the city. His complex was very modern, a clear juxtaposition to your victorian styled home, but you welcomed it warmly. You enjoyed the prospect of having a place to go that is more minimal in comparison to your cluttered property.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before you parked outside of his home, your car finding its normal spot in the driveway of his garage.

Your legs carried you faster than you could have imagined, rushing you to the front of his house and your hand pounded against his door with a sense of urgency.

Harry took his time making his way downstairs, a towel around his waist and an impatient girl he had hardly met waited in his bed upstairs.

He opened his door slightly, allowing his head to peek out of the small crack he created, “Hey!” he exclaimed when he realized it was you.

“Hi! Can I come in?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m not exactly decent,” his hand scratches the back of his neck, “Can you wait down here as I get some clothes on?”

“Sure, take your time,” you nod in understanding, allowing Harry to make his way back upstairs.

“Who’s at the door?” the girl asks from her spot on his bed as Harry changes quickly into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“Just a friend, she should be gone soon,” he replies.

“You sure? She seemed really excited to see you.”

Harry lets out a sigh, “Logan, I promise she's just a friend. And what does it matter anyway?”

“Well I don't want to be the other woman,” she pouts, “But if you say she’s just a friend then I believe you.”

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder briefly as he made his way back downstairs to where you were waiting on his sofa.

“So whats up?” he asks, “Want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. I have some news, though,” you say, enthusiasm raising once again.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Harry joins you on the sofa.

“So I met with Flynn Bradford today,” you lead on, hoping Harry could understand what the news was.

“No way,” he exclaimed after a moment of silence. “He picked you up? That’s amazing holy shit! Congrats!”

“Thanks! You helped so much, I thought you had to be the first to know. And on Wednesday you can help me decide what corrections to add, too. This is all so exciting! It’s happening so fast!” you ramble quickly, standing up and pulling Harry into a hug.

“No you did that all on your own! I knew they’d pick you up, too. So fucking talented,” he mumbles, returning your embrace.

“Thank you oh my goodness! Okay, I just wanted to come over quick to tell you that. I have to work on some audition music so I’ll head out in a few,” you say.

Harry opens his mouth to reply when you both hear his bedroom door open. Harry’s eyes widened in realization and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Harry?” you hear an unrecognizable voice, “You done?”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes as you start to realize what was happening. He was with someone. He found someone and it wasn’t you.

She walks down the stairs and your head immediately turns in the direction of the girl. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your tears in the ducts of your eyes as you see her in a t-shirt you know Harry absolutely loves.

“Hey, uh Logan. This is Y/N,” he trails off lightly, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” you smile falsely and extend your hand for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Logan. You’re Harry’s friend?” she presumes, looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close,” you pause, “Sorry, I didn’t know H was seeing anyone. This was kind of unexpected.”

“Oh that’s alright, I was going to leave soon anyway. Have to meet some friends for dinner,” she shrugged carelessly.

“No, no, you can stay. I feel bad. I can be out in a few minutes,” you tell her with a soft smile.

She looked at you and Harry intervened before she could get a word out, “That’s alright, you can both stay if you want?” he suggested.

“I really do have to go,” Logan trailed off.

Harry quickly jumped at this, “Oh! Sorry, love. Yeah, go ahead, don’t mean to keep you here if you need to be somewhere.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff,” she smiles at the two of you and heads back upstairs to where you assume she was staying in Harry’s bedroom.

You and Harry stand in silence for a moment, “Sorry I should’ve asked to come over. I’ll go, you can spend some time with her before she leaves,” you finally stammer with a slightly wavering voice.

“No!” Harry exclaims a bit too loudly, making you flinch at his tone. “You can stay,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, I have to practice anyway,” you say in a rush, leaving his house at once without looking back at him.

It was two days later when Logan showed up at Harry’s house with a soft smile on her face and her eyes filled with lust.

Not only two minutes after Harry opened the door, his lips were on hers and they were making their ways upstairs to his bedroom. Logan had come to Harry’s for a quick fuck and Harry was there to provide.

It had taken them a few weeks to get into a flow and get a general idea of each others bodys and needs and now that they were getting good sex, they didn’t take many moments to stop and catch their breath.

There were a few moments, though where Logan knew she fell short of your company. She could tell with a quick glance at Harry that he was a lovesick puppy when it came to you and it became more and more apparent the more time they spent together.

When they weren’t fucking, he spent most of his free time talking about you. The girl of his dreams and the funniest, prettiest, nicest, person he’s ever met.

She had her hands in his hair and he had his hands tugging on her waist when his phone began buzzing from his bedside table.

Logan sat up from where she laid, straddling Harry’s lap. He let out a soft groan and ran and hand through his hair as he checked who had called him.

His lips fell into an effortless smile as he answered your call, leaving Logan breathless and unfulfilled. She resulted in getting up from his bed and walking out of his house once she realized it was you he was talking to.

That following Monday, you watched as Harry made his way into your home, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the two of you as you sat on your sofa.

“How was your date with Logan?” you ask eventually.

“Oh, it was- it wasn’t a date,” Harry tried to describe, leaving you confused. Harry wasn’t one for casual hookups.

“Then what was it?” you ask timidly, hoping for an answer you can understand.

“Just meeting an old friend from college,” he coughs.

“A friend?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, uh, a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” you let out softly, “Why’d you get back with her?” you ask.

“I don’t think the girl I like likes me back, so I wanted a distraction” he replies vaguely, turning on your TV in search of a new film to watch on Netflix.

You swallow the lump in your throat before replying, “I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Harry looks at you for the first time that day, “Well she doesn’t act like it at all, so I think I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” you shrug, “What is there to lose?”

“A person who I value a lot in my life,” he replies almost instantly.

You didn’t reply after that, allowing the film Harry chose in a haze to begin and you sink further into the sofa.

It had been an eventful week. You had sent back your manuscript twice between today and your original week and yesterday you had auditioned for the live orchestra for the annual Nutcracker production.

This had been your fifth year playing in it- you were very confident in your ability to get a spot in the orchestra- but it was the solo that brought you grief. Every year, each section had a competitive fight between musicians for the solos that are littered through the production.

You found that the busy week that had followed you around became the main reason you were able to get your mind off Harry. No matter what you did he meandered his way into your thoughts and you were beginning to feel pathetic that your mood relied on him.

It was when you came home from auditions on Tuesday evening when you got a phone call from Harry. You hesitantly picked up the phone and allowed him to speak first.

“Y/N? You there? Can you talk for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah, what’s up,” you reply.

“I need your advice. I think Logan wants to start seeing someone but she won’t admit it to me so I don’t know what I should do because I don’t want her to hold back on it just because of me,” he pushes quickly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Well why wouldn’t she admit she wants to see someone? She probably likes you, H, don’t worry. She’ll talk to you if she likes someone else.”

You heard a heavy sigh come from Harry’s end of the line as you picked up all your belongings from your car, your phone sitting between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, I just- I don’t think she wants to tell me for some reason.”

What you didn’t know was that Harry was trying to prolong this call in an attempt to see if you would tell him to cut it off with Logan. It had only been a few weeks, and to be fair he hadn’t hooked up with her more then three times.

He knew he loved you but he needed confirmation that you liked him back. Logan insisted that you did but he didn’t trust her judgement as much as he trusted his own.

As you learned through numerous conversations with Harry, he is a charming man, but he is also a confusing one. He isn’t direct and he seems to beat around the bush when it comes to serious things in his life.

“Okay,” you say, confused, “Well just tell her that if she can’t be honest then she’s never going to be able to break it off with you. And if she says the same thing and you still don’t believe her just cut it off,” you advise selfishly.

You wanted to help Harry, you truly did, but you were also a human. You were selfish and needy and you wanted Harry to yourself. So, you did what a selfish, and jealous, girl would do and you hinted at breaking it off.

“Thanks,” he let out a huff of air, “Sorry, I have to sort some stuff out and I’m really stressed so I wanted your opinion about this,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright. Let me know how it goes, yeah? I gotta run some errands but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you confirm.

Harry hums in agreement and you hang up first, leaving him with the dial tone on his phone.

The first thing you do when you get in your office is check your email. You were waiting on a reply from Bradford- you had just sent in another round of corrections and asked him for minor technical critiques to finish off the piece. You were proud of where it was and you were thoroughly in love with it.

Just as you opened your laptop, you saw the taunting icon saying you have an unread email. You attempted to calm your nerves before opening it, preparing yourself for almost all senders.

But calming your nerves turned into a loud scream. Bradford had replied and informed you that he loved the piece and accepts it as your final draft. He also mentioned that he will fax over the legal documents to look over before meeting with him officially and signing all the necessary contracts.

Just as he said, later that night you received a thick stack of papers to sift off to your parents to help you look over and make sure everything was alright for you to sign.

You bind all the pages together with a few paperclips and make a quick drive into the suburbs to give your parents the good news and ask them to help you find someone to look over all the papers for you.

Your parents weren’t the most enjoyable people to live with but they were great to see in moderation. It was a large showcase of love every time you or Monica came home- they cooked, cleaned, and helped with just about everything you asked.

So, when you arrived home, you got the full treatment. Your mom had cooked a nice dinner for you all and your dad helped you look over the contracts in their entirety as you waited for dinner to be served. You deemed the papers safe and the three of you decided you could sign on them as soon as possible and get all the proper licensing.

You were overjoyed on your drive home and the moment you arrived back, you sent Bradford a quick email from your phone saying you can meet anytime to sign and that you had looked over the contracts.

The following morning, you had gotten back a response stating he was free later that afternoon and you took him up on his offer to sign on the fine Wednesday.

You met him back at his office, similar to the first time, and you had brought all the papers he had sent you, giving him a solid rundown of what you were expecting and negotiating royalties.

You had taken half an hour to settle on a final deal and Bradford had gotten the contracts readjusted for you to sign.

It was nerve wracking but exciting to be holding the pen in your hand and you signed page after page, ensuring your music could be sold and would be given proper care and proper copyright laws.

“Last one right here, Y/N,” Bradford encouraged you. Your wrist grew tired but you refused to complain considering how much you wanted this and how long you waited.

“Okay,” you grunted, signing your name sloppily and allowing Bradford to pull all the papers out from under your hold.

“So, what this all ensures from our relationship standpoint is that we are the primary distributor and we will be helping with copyright and making sure you get your money's worth,” he briefs with a chuckle. He straightens out the stack and stands up with a smile on his face.

You follow in suit and stand up at the desk, straightening out your pants, “Thank you so much,” you gush.

“Thank you for thinking to work with us,” Bradford countered, making you shake your head.

“Of course,” you say kindly, “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me these past few weeks. Been a huge help.”

“Oh it was our pleasure, Y/N. You're a wonderful artist. I think we all enjoyed working with your piece.”

You shake Bradfords hand and exchange pleasantries as you exit his office with a smile on your face.

It was the rush of relief that went through your body that helped you realize the gravity of what just happened. Your music has been sold and now has the opportunity to be in music shops, orchestras, and played all across the globe. And that was a great feeling.

It was indescribable, to say the least. It had taken over a year to compose the piece and you had multiple failed attempts prior to this one. The piece you named Domicile was quite literally a love letter to your life.

The piece went through the ups and downs of love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love. It was all encompassed in the piece you titled home.

Written from the back of your mind, you had no idea how to articulate how proud of yourself you were. It was self expression and it was beautiful.

Later that evening, Harry arrived at your home as he usually did. He held a small calculator and his laptop in his arm as he abandoned his car in your driveway and made his way up to your door.

He knocked before opening it, knowing you always forget to lock it when you came home from work, and he followed the noise of soft jazz down the hall and into your office.

The paint smell had finally vanished the room and he found you sitting comfortably on the floor with your legs folded beneath you. “Hey, how was your day?” He asks, walking in and sitting across from you on the floor.

“Really fucking good,” you grin, making eye contact with him.

“Care to explain?” he asks with wide eyes and an encouraging smile.

“Yes,” you say dramatically, “I, Y/N Y/L/N, am officially,” you pause for effect.

“Oh come on,” Harry groans in anticipation.

“I am officially a signed artist,” you squeal in excitement.

“No fucking way,” he says softly, “No fucking way!” he yells. “I knew you would oh my goodness! This is amazing! We have to celebrate-” he rambles on.

“Harry!” you exclaim with a giggle, “No need to celebrate this is enough!” you assure.

“No, no, no,” Harry says, “We gotta do something. Even if it’s just a dinner with Mon and I. We gotta.”

“No,” you reiterate firmly.

“Fine,” Harry says, “But you’re coming with me,” he says standing up. He extends his hand out and helps you stand before leading you to your living room.

He gently tugs your arm towards him and he presses his chest up against yours. “Play it on the speaker, love,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling back and using your phone to play the symphony over your speaker system per Harry’s request.

Harry smiled at you and gently put his hand up to yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you tightly. “Dance with me?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“Of course, sir,” you tease, stepping into his hold, his arms wrapping around your waist and your hands draped over his shoulders lightly.

“I’m really proud of you,” he whispers, swaying back and forth.

“Thank you so much,” you hum, “Seriously, you helped with so much of it. I really appreciate it.”

Harry ducked his head in a bashful manner, unsure of how to reply to your high praise, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

You shake your head, looking out the window next to you two. The sun was setting and the sky was a painting of oranges and pinks, “God, Harry.”

“What,” he chuckles, following your gaze.

“I cannot believe you’re real,” you whisper, you hand moving to meet his jaw. You graze your thumb over his skin in utter disbelief.

“Harry?” you call out softly. He was zoned out, staring at your profile.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe out timidly. You don’t know where exactly you got all the courage that consumed your body at that current moment, but you were thankful for it.

Harry swallowed thickly before his eyes met yours, “Yes please,” he whispers back at you.

Your hand that rested on his jaw caressed the skin for a moment before you leaned into his warmth. Your lips met his lightly, you pulling away too quickly for his liking. Harry looked at you once more before leaning forward and allowing his lips to meet yours heavily.

You smile into his mouth, absolute joy coursing through your veins as he kissed you so carefully but so harshly. Your bodies stilled into the kiss, your mouths moving in sync slowly, absorbing every inch of each other.

Harry lets out a small groan as you grind slowly against him, his head threatening to roll back if it weren’t for your hand holding his head still.

His hands moved along your back comfortingly making your body melt into his expertly. You pull away again, Harry looking at you with dimmed eyes, you completely out of breath, “Songs over,” you whisper.

“So restart it,” he replies with a small grin.

Harry ended up seeing the full performance of Midsummer the last night it was performed at the theater. He apologized profusely and insisted he’d see the last of the show if it was the last thing he did, so you let him come and sit right in the front as he wished.

Just as the first time, he sent you smiles of luck before your solo and a few more afterwards to show he was proud of you. Just as you anticipated, he is the best person to cheer you on during a performance.

You knew Harry would be waiting for you in the lobby, so you held off on putting your overcoat on and allowed yourself to step out of the backstage area with your black dress and short heels, your clarinet and jacket in hand.

He held his arm out for you once you became close enough for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and you walked into his hold, “I got something for you,” he tells you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you ask with a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Harry smiles at you before handing you the flowers that sat in his other hand. It was an assortment of long stem red roses, what he read to be the traditional rose to give after a performance.

“Thank you,” you whisper in awe, your eyes meeting his as he looks at you.

Harry hums in response and tugs you closer to his body before leaving a quick peck on your lips and pulling away just as fast as he approached you.

You and Harry were confused to say the least. You had both confirmed you liked each other the night you got signed but you found it difficult for the two of you to label what was going on. Harry wanted it to be exclusive and you wanted to give it a trial run to see how it would work. And though you did give it a trial run, the two of you were yet to discuss what was going on.

You assumed this would be like any other relationship you had been in- after a few months and a handful of dates, you’d consider yourselves partners- but this was vastly different. You have known Harry for a few years now and he has always been a part of your life. So what counted as a date and what was as normal?

Well, tonight constituted a date. Harry had told you before he arrived that he would be taking you out for a nice dinner after your show and to be ready for the best night of your life. You rolled your eyes at his antics and humored him by showing him the outfit you had picked out- the dress you found yourself wearing every Sunday- and a different jacket then you usually wore- this one more flattering for the body.

Harry nodded in approval at this and made his way to the theater, you asking one of your friends to give you a ride so you could go home with Harry later that night.

Now you sat in Harry’s car with his hand resting on your knee, your hand covering his as he drives you both to dinner. He was clad in the same suit he wore the first time he saw you and it subtly matched the black dress and white coat with pleats that you wore next to him.

Harry informed you when you got in the car that he would be taking you to his favorite (fancy) steakhouse in the next city over. Before you could protest her told you it was in celebration of your final performance and being signed, therefore your protests would only further encourage him.

“Will these flowers be alright sitting in the car during dinner?” you ask him.

“Not sure,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “I’ll get you new ones if they aren’t.”

“No!” you’re quick to stop him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what if I want to? You gonna stop me from fulfilling my inner desires?” he asks you teasingly.

You roll your eyes at him and look out the window. The soft sounds of Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac fill the silence as Harry exits the highway and turns into the parking lot of Del Friscos, the steakhouse.

Harry exits the car first, rushing to your door so he can open the door for you. You smile at him as you step out of the car and walk in the building hand in hand.

The restaurant was dimly lit and had high, round booths around the perimeter of the room, tables with pristine white tablecloths among the center. Harry met the host with a small smile and a, “Styles, party of two,” before being led to a corner booth with you in toe.

You smile at Harry as you slide into the booth, your hands making their way to the hem of your dress and tugging on it, “This place is really nice,” you comment your voice laced with insecurity.

“Yup, that’s why we look really nice,” Harry reminds you.

“I feel like this is normal,” you chuckle, “I wear this every Sunday.”

“My girl looks this nice every Sunday and I never knew? Might have to make a pit stop Sunday nights too,” Harry compliments.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “I’d be alright with that.”

Harry smiles at you as a waitress comes over and asks what drinks you’d like.

The dinner was filling and well-made, you found yourself laughing harder than you ever had and eating the best food you’ve had in awhile.

Harry held your hand as you left the steakhouse and he opened the passenger seat door for you, rushing to the other side to turn the heater on for you, “One more stop before I bring ya home,” Harry tells you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Alright, where?”

“Oh, Y/N, you should know by now that if I don’t tell you it’s a secret!”

“Well it was worth a try,” you shoot him a smile, your hand finding its place in his.

Harry hums in agreement, “Just know if I want you to know, you’ll know.”

You let out a laugh at his stubbornness, “Alright sir,” you say in a posh accent.

Harry lets out an exaggerated hey before saying, “That’s what I sound like when I talk to my boss.

You burst out in laughter and Harry goes on to tell you an embarrassing story from the first time he met his boss.

When Harry’s car reverses into a spot, your eyes shoot up in surprise at your arrival at the hardly-built riverwalk in your town. It was a new location and half the restaurants were still in the process of being built but it was still a nice place to go.

You catch the door before Harry can, you send him a smug smile and take his hand as he tugs you gently towards the ice cream shop he seemed to be eyeing.

The location was dimly lit with blue tinted lights and a few wall sconces that gave a warm orange glow.

“How did you know I wanted to come here?” you asked him finally, coming to a stop and stepping inside the building.

“It’s just about the only thing you’ve talked about for about two months,” Harry teased you with an accusatory finger.

Your lips curve upwards as you exhale a laugh, “Okay, you got me there.”

Harry smirks at you as you look at the menu before you, stepping up to the teen worker who looked far too tired to be awake, “Can I get a scoop of chocolate? And he’ll have,” you point at Harry.

“Uh- I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with graham crumbs please,” Harry gives the worker a cheeky grin and wraps his arm around your waist as you wait for your cones.

You smile in thanks as Harry pays, heading out of the building almost immediately to be met with a gust of wind and a lit up river beside you.

Harry stays by your side as you both walk in silence taking in the scenery, eating your ice cream peacefully. It was a really nice way to spend your evening and you found yourselves enjoying each other's presence more than each other's conversation.

“Okay,” you swallow the last bit of your ice cream, “What’s your dream travel destination?” you ask.

Harry's eyebrows raise in amusement, “What, did you look up first date questions?”

You stifle out a laugh, “Maybe, I didn’t know if it would be awkward.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated, “Ha!” before redirecting you back in the direction of his car, “That’s cute that you care so much.”

“What and you don’t care?” you tease.

“I care just not enough to google first day questions,” he pokes your side playfully.

You laugh out a “Fine!” and redirect the conversation to your performance from earlier that night.

It was a full week apart from Harry and you were excited to reunite with him. Your week had been full with auditions for different parts in the Nutcracker every day so you found yourself unavailable to spend your Monday and Wednesday with Harry, having little to no time to yourself.

Now, the following Sunday, the only thing between Harry and yourself was your front door.

Harry was officially invited to your orchestra’s gala in celebration of completing Midsummer. You both had decided that Harry would arrive promptly two hours before you needed leave and you two would get ready together.

He was lying down on your bed as you leaned over your bathroom counter in an attempt to perfect your eyeliner, “Don’t know why you bother with that,” you hear him grumble.

You let out a chuckle and stood back to decide if it was even enough, “Me neither it’s too fucking hard.”

Harry lets out a snort, “That's what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at him through your mirror, “You sure you’re not fifteen?”

Harry smiles, “You sure The Office is only for fifteen year olds?” he shoots back.

Your face matches his and you lean into the mirror once more to perfect your eyeliner before moving to your closet to change into your dress for the night, prompting Harry to begin getting into his suit as well.

Today, for the nicer event, you wore a nude dress with navy accents towards the bottom and a leg slit Harry thought made you look absolutely ravishing. And, in perfect coordination, Harry wore a navy suit with a white half-buttoned shirt underneath and his favorite red boots that reminded him of an old western movie you’d watched a few months back.

He held your hand as you stepped out of your closet and let out a dramatic “Oh damn!” at first sight before spinning you around so he can get a full idea of your outfit.

You fall into a fit of giggles and collapse into his hold and he sways back and forth, “I really like you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you reply with a grin, “I like you a lot back.”

“Well how lucky am I?”

“So damn lucky,” you tell him as you let out a silent giggle, “Come on, let's head out.”

The drive to the theater seemed all too short for the both of you. You were sitting in a comfortable silence enjoying each other's company on the way there, stealing a few kisses at a red light or a longing glance while Harry was concentrating on changing lanes during rush hour.

When you arrived at the hotel the gala was held at, you both found your way inside and to the tables that were set up with your names on small place cards. You both sat there in soft chatter as you awaited the arrival of your friends who were to sit at the same table.

Eventually, you were met with a crowd of people around your table and your voices raised in volume and excitement. It was merely 8:00 when your ears were greeted by the sound of a disconnected microphone.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Jordan Pennington, the conductor of the Midsummer Night’s Dream orchestra performance and I’m here to recognize each performer for their outstanding work over the course of these past months,” his voice cut through the room like glass.

Jordan then went on to state each performer and his favorite memory with them through the course of the orchestral production.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jordan introduced, an image of you as a baby and you now making their way onto the screen behind him, “Y/N is a strong clarinetist we are blessed to have in our group. She works very hard in the theater and outside and has recently been signed as a composer so I’m hoping I’ll be conducting her work soon,” he paused as people congratulated you. You didn’t publicize your signing, so a lot of people were in shock and impressed.

“She’s been with us for a while so we have a few good memories with her at this theater but I think everybody's favorite is just about any time Y/N brings lunch,” he pauses as everyone starts laughing. You bury your face in your hands as Harry looks at you with a confused smile.

“When Y/N brings lunch she without fail trips on one of the steps and spills something,” Jordan informs. You let out an exaggerated groan, eliciting more laughter and Harry covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Can we move on?” you call out.

Jordan lets out a laugh and obliges, moving onto the next person on his list.

You glance at Harry who is taking a sip of wine and you raise your eyebrows at him, making him nearly spit out his drink, “Sorry, love,” he coughs out, bringing you in for a hug, “Just sounds so much like you it’s impossible,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes at him and continue to listen as Jordan goes through the rest of your orchestra.

When he finishes, your food is devoured and the middle of the room is opened to allow people to dance. You glance at Harry and take his hand, reminding him of the night you first kissed, “Come on,” you mutter.

He allows you to take him to the center of the room where some of your colleagues have begun to conglomerate and dance slowly to the tune of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud, you two joining in the mass.

Unlike last time, you knew exactly how to act, your arms immediately finding a home around his shoulders and pulling him close so your flesh is against his.

Harry smiled at this and squeezed you at the waist as a silent way of saying I love you, his head leaning in towards yours and your foreheads resting against each other.

“How is it that we always end up dancing?” he asks you.

“Not sure, I was never good at it either but here I am,” you chuckle a reply.

Harry’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, “There is no way you weren’t a good dancer.”

“Swear on it,” you say, your lips tugging upwards to make a smile.

“No. I refuse to believe that, you’re so good,” he says, his eyes shooting down to your feet and then back up to your eyes making you giggle.

“Nope,” you say confidently, “Just found you and you were good. By association I’m good.”

“So what you’re saying is you found the right partner?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You fall into a full belly laugh at his antics before agreeing, “I found the right partner.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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doomedandstoned · 4 years

Text

The Bog Wizard Sees All!

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Album art by Al Seamer

Michigan's BOG WIZARD was introduced to us in last year's Doomed & Stoned in Detroit compilation when they shared "The Wizard in the Bog." The lyrics carry a similar sentiment to "The Troll" by Saint Vitus, though arguably the latter was a more sympathetic character than this:

In the bog, he plies Dark and twisted blackened sorcery

He shapes, he knows Never ending hatred for humanity

Their lies, death throes Neverending fuel for his treachery

Now following the EP, 'Campaign' (2018), which was the culmination of more than a decade of casual jam sessions, the Ludington trio of Ben Lombard (guitar, vox), Harlen Linke (drums, synth, vox), and Colby Lowman (bass) have battened down the hatches to bring us an ambitious 12-track album approximately an hour and five-minutes in length.

I suppose it is fair to say that 'From The Mire' (2020) does not behave like the typical album, but its episodic quality sure would make it an attractive soundtrack to an indie film.

They'd make one hell of a good pairing with Psychic Dose, too. Both are fascinated by the swamp as a setting for mythical lore, both have a similar lo-fi production epic, and both have some of the meanest growls and nastiest riffs in the entire marsh.

The record opens by sampling a preacher sharing his laundry list "dangers" that Dungeons and Dragons portends, undoubtedly from one of those scarey Christian video tapes that got passed around to concerned parents (mine included) in the '80s. "Is this dangerous? You decide."

Right on the heels of that statement the Bog Wizard comes stomping out of the muck and into your earspace in classic doom fashion, accented by sludgy southern riffing and vocal harmonies reminiscent of Brimstone Coven.

"Submission In Defiance" is a promising beginning and bleeds right into "Tarrasque" (a dragon-like creature from the D&D universe), which is presented with epic doom bravado. "City in the Mountain" follows in like manner and its forlorn quality gave me flashbacks of the late, great Rhode Island doom outfit Pilgrim (another band that incorporated fantasy RPG themes in their music).

Doomed & Stoned · Bog Wizard - From The Mire(2020)

Without these programmatic elements to guide me, my first listen got a little bogged down in the album's mid-section, particularly with some of the instrumentals (e.g. "Gnarled Cane," though that bass does eventually get down and dirty like we're used to hearing from Missoula's Swamp Ritual). Second listen had me better acclimated.

It's worth noting that when you hear clean singing alternating with much grittier strains on a song like "Shapeshifter," that's not two people, it's just one: Ben Lombard. I found his vocal performance pretty darned convincing on the whole. His range isn't operatic, but it can soar when he wants to and his "dark side" vox are achieve the tone and pitch that Lamb of God frontman Randy Blythe might reach if he could, you know, sing.

Overall, the album is a grower, with a good handful of songs that will grab you right from the get-go and others that will probably take a time or two to fully digest (like the grand finisher, "Swamp Golem"). Then again, you just might be in the mood to slow headbang all the way through.

Bog Wizard's From The Mire surfaces from the swamp waters of doom this Friday, July 3rd (pre-order here). Today, Doomed & Stoned is bringing you its world premiere.

Give ear...

From the Mire by Bog Wizard

A Listener's Guide To Bog Wizard

By Harlen Linke

The album was put together earlier this year, self recorded and produced in our drummers basement, where we usually practice. We sound-treated the space, dividing it off from the rest of the basement, placing the guitar cabs outside of the drum area, and recorded directly on bass, so we could get away with playing everything live together without much bleed between mics. We tend to have a fair amount of tempo changes and it would be a nightmare to try to record every part separately, our music is very go-with-the-flow.

We worked with Max Schoenlein of MAS Audio (who also does shows with us, doing lighting usually) who ran the board. We worked with him on our original EP as a two-piece a few years ago. Our bassist Colby used to own a recording studio, and I've had experience mixing music, as I've dabbled a bunch in the past on various projects and mixed/ mastered our EP, so collectively we had all the pieces to self produce this full length album.

We recorded the whole thing over the course of 4 weekends in January 2020, and Colby and I passed a few early mixes of one song back and forth for awhile before settling in on a rough template to apply to the rest of the album, doing a massive amount of iterating and adjusting over the next few months, finishing the process of mixing and mastering in May. It was a pretty great learning experience, and I think the end result turned out great for what was a pretty thrown together studio. We're very proud of it.

Our bassist joined in November of 2018, and we've been working on writing this album since then, in addition to learning some covers and doing live shows locally. Ben and I tend to split the writing between the two of us, with one of us coming up with a few cool riffs and concepts, and jamming on it to figure out where it takes us. We tend to improv jam a lot of our new ideas and record everything we do, going back and listening to what we did and picking out the good parts to apply to a more structured song that we refine over time.

Thematically, we have a focus on fantasy/Dungeons & Dragons, as well as spoofing off of the '80s Satanic Panic era, but role playing games have a pretty big influence on how we go about writing our lyrics as well. I'm credited in the liner notes as "DM" or Dungeon Master, which in D&D context is the person who runs the game and story that plays out, with the players interacting with it. And while I do usually handle running our games outside of the music, we also apply this dynamic to our lyrical writing process.

Often I'll lay out a rough idea or story we want to make our song about, and Ben and I will talk through where it heads, with me leading the narrative and Ben refining it, and eventually writing the lyrics to fit the idea. While not all of our songs are handled this way, the ones that are end up as very linear story based songs.

One example, the song "City in the Mountain" tells a tale of a visitor experiencing the wonder of a sprawling underground city, with the lyrics seeming to be from almost a tour guide describing the city to them as they enter. The song has this looming theme of misearned wealth and power accumulated in the city, culminating in the reveal of an ancient magical creature contained under it that is driving it's growth, and the sacrifice of the listener being the final step of their trip deeper into the city, to placate the creature.

Or "Submission in Defiance," which the first act of the song is about an adventurer setting out to confront a highly intelligent mind-controlling enemy, and their realization that the only way to get close is to allow this creature to take control of them, and the existential struggle that a decision like that requires. However, the second half of the song describes their new mental state after this happens, which is complete submission to the enemy, doing the entities rage-filled bidding as almost part of a hive mind, with an implied complete failure of their original intended goal.

Overall, our From the Mire takes heavy fantasy influence, a few songs being straight up retellings of D&D games we have played together in the past ("Shapeshifter" being the most notable example of that, which is actually a game that had a character my daughter ended up getting named after), but we do sprinkle in our fair share of social commentary and deeper thoughts about the world applied to the setting.

From the Mire by Bog Wizard

The Bog Wizard himself is a recurring character in the album, a crotchety old bastard of wizard, living in isolation in his swamp, who doesn't take kindly to trespassers. Our single "Swamp Golem" is a song about the conjuring of a massive hulking creature created from swamp muck (featured on the cover of the album and CD itself, drawn by Al Seamer) to enact revenge on a nearby village for that very sin. He's a very "get off my lawn" type, taken to the extreme.

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#D&S Debuts #Bog Wizard #Michigan #Doom #Metal #Fantasy #Doom Metal #Sludge #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D #D&S Reviews #Doomed & Stoned

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newandfiguringitout · 4 years

Text

May 2nd Harpoon

Yes I know it is late at night, yes I know the whump doesn’t come in until the end, and yes I do realize that this copies pirates of the Caribbean. I’m sorry okay. This is a direct continuation of this piece which was the writing challenge for yesterday. I will again apologize for not writing this very well, I am not very good at writing but hope to improve over the month.

CW: mentions of dehydration, humiliation, aches and pains, rope burn, minor gore/allusion to gore, idk but best to be safe.

He guessed it had been around noon when Rig had visited him, thankfully the pirates seemed to have forgotten about their captive and no one had bothered him. Dalton would still get the occasional spray from the sea, salt getting in his eyes and irritating the newly formed welts on his wrists. However he tried to look on the bright side, and the sun had moved over on the starboard side of the vessel. So it no longer blinded him into oblivion and his headache was getting better. The water Riggy had brought him had been like a gift from the gods above, almost completely driving out the wool in his head until there was only peach fuzz remaining.

Dalton tried to let his thoughts dance with the waves below him, but they kept turning back to mermaids. Riggs had been so afraid while listening to him speak, and the quiet intensity as he spoke of them. . . It was strange. The look in his eyes had been haunted, almost as if the lad spoke from fist hand. He had probably spent most of his life on this ship already, what with the way he spoke about the ship, but he didn’t speak of any father on board. Dalton found it difficult to imagine the kid knowing his father and not mentioning him in one of his stories.

“Oi, stowaway!" Dalton jerked from his thoughts and craned his neck to the same pirate from before. Now that the sun had moved to a different location, he was able to see the other man clearly. He had a sharp jaw lined with several weeks of dark stubble on tan skin. If Dalton had to guess he would say the man was in his mid, maybe late twenties. He had a faded blue bandana covering most of his head, a bit of black hair stuck out the bottom. Dalton would've killed for a bandana right now.

His own shoulder length hair was beginning to look rather, eh, messy. It was plastered to his face and itchy with sweat. He usually kept it tied back with a strip of cloth, but his tie had come out while they strapped him to the anchor. He missed his hair tie.

"You wanna get off that?" The question throws Dalton a bit off, but oh that sounded like a dream come true. The aches and pains of standing like this all day were adding up. He could hardly think of a muscle that was not sore.

"If you're offering, I would not decline." He answered smoothly. Trying very hard to appear unaffected by the heavenly offer.

The pirate grinned, surprisingly not missing a tooth. "Then earn it."

Confusion danced along the captive's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sing. You look like you know a tune or two. Sing and we'll stuff ya back in the brig." Dalton wasn't sure if the man was poking fun at him or not. But the brig sounded very, very lovely.

"Why do you want me to sing?"

"Does it matter?" The man seemed amused at the question. "You sing or you stay right there on that anchor, the choice is yours Dolly."

Dalton's face burned at the nickname, but it wasn't as noticeable in the light of the soon to be setting sun. "What would you like me to sing?"

"Doesn't fucking matter," the pirate threw his hands in the air, exasperated probably, "just sing for a while and we’ll let you down.”

Dalton sighed and glanced down at the water and began the first verse of 'Waif in the Waters' a classic ballad about a man falling in love with his reflection. It was based on a Greek myth, but myths right now seemed oddly appropriate.

His voice carried out over the waters, he wasn’t sure how the crew was supposed to hear him but Dalton had the gnawing suspicion that the songs weren’t meant for them. The words were easy and the tune fairly simple, the type of song a drunkard would start only for the rest of the bar to carry into the street outside.

When he reached the chorus, he extended it, forcing the song to lengthen. Dalton was fairly confident in his easy baritone, exceedingly grateful for not taking choral lessons and learning to sing a tenor pitch. Not that he cared about the opinions of pirates, but it would be far worse to sing with them laughing at him.

When he reached the end of the song, the sun had begun to sink, giving way for the horizon to darken. The pirate ordered him to sing louder, so he obliged. He began to work his way through every single tavern song he knew and even threw in an epic poem turned ballad. No one seemed to mind his singing and he figured he shouldn’t stop.

By this time the sun had sunk beneath the surface of the waves, the crew had lit lanterns and torches to compete against the engulfing darkness. It made Dalton feel very alone to be just outside the bubble of light, normally that wouldn’t bother him, but the feeling of isolation hurt. It hurt more than he cared to ever admit, or ever would admit willingly. But the ache of loneliness dug deep inside and burrowed a den in his chest, refusing to leave.

“Sing us a love song,” the same pirate called down to him, “you’ve got to know one or two of those.” Laughter erupted from the deck.

Swallowing hard, Dalton racked his mind for a decent tune. Like a whisper on a breeze, he began to sing. The song he chose was an old ballad, traditionally sung by a man with a large female accompaniment, started soft and airy. There was often a harp or a flute playing alongside the singer, until the song took a dark turn. What started as a delicate courtship was thrown into a fury of violent staccato describing a demon, it was filled with strong brass and a nearly overwhelming amount of energy and passion. It alternated between the love of the couple and the stalking of the demon. Each change was sudden and unexpected, even if you hear it many times in a row the swift changes never fail to make you jump. Even the performers themselves would appear shocked as if they themselves hadn’t anticipated what they would play.

It was a fairly difficult piece, but it had been the only one that came to mind. Dalton closed his eyes to focus only on the song when something whacked his head, causing him to stop. Confused Dalton looked up to see Rigg, wide eyed. His questions died on his tongue when the song didn’t stop.

Dalton’s eyes widened as he looked out over the darkened waters. Scattered over the now calm surface were half a dozen floating things. Heads. Faces of ethereal beauty, all singing in unison to the love song.

They looked so lonely out there. Only them speckling the surface of the waters, so cold and alone. They don’t have to be alone, we could be alone together.

Transfixed, he watched the nearest mermaid come closer. She was beautiful, her eyes nearly glowing a deep amber. Like pools of honey. Songs could be sung of only her eyes, deep pools, he could fall into eyes like those. He would be content, only to stare into the beautiful eyes. Her skin was a rich whisky color, and tattooed with flowing white lines. The very sea itself seemed trapped within those thick curving lines, flowing over her face, neck, and the tops of her shoulders.

Rig retreated up the ship, back on deck but Dalton hardly registered it. His core focus was on the angel below him. She had moved closer, now hardly a dozen feet from him. He struggled against the bonds, if he could just go to her, she wouldn’t be so lonely. He could help. If only the ropes didn’t bind him up here, away from her.

He felt so wrong, to be up here, away from her. So close, so very close. Tears pricked his eyes as he doubled his efforts to get free. He had to get to her, had to be near her. She was everything. If his tongue knew how to work he would beg to be let down, beg to go to her. He needed her.

She looked up at him with lonely eyes. She wanted him down. Her face silently begging him to join her. His eyes stayed locked on hers as she swam even closer. Tail becoming visible beneath the churning waters. It was also marked with the flowing white tattoos that decorated the rest of her.

Their eyes stayed locked together, inseparable need binding them together. They stayed locked together right up until the moment the harpoon sliced through her lower tail.

#whump #whumpblr #WaterWhump2020 #ww-no.2 #harpoon #dehydration: tw #humiliation: tw #gore: tw #not alot and just at the end tho #mermaids #pirates #i know nothing of boats or ships #yes this is pirates of the caribbean

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queenarticlearchive · 5 years

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September 11, 1976

Phil McNeill

New Musical Express

If punters queue when they’ve already got tickets…

…You’re witnessing A Phenomen. And such was the situation when Queen played the Edinburgh Festival - with supporters of The Young Pretender paying their man and his men the ultimate tribute… But what of the music? What of the future? Is our combination-clad Hero prancing up a blind alley?

It’s a freezing Edinburgh wind that whips up the bare slope by the Playhouse Theatre to torment the massed masochists who queue, strung out a full quarter of a mile, for Queen’s first British gig of 1976.

Masochists? Am I revealing my prejudice against the four wonderboys already? Actually, no: masochists because they’ve all got tickets already, and, while the pub the other side of the theatre stands almost empty, these kids are catching pneumonia for nothing in their impatience to reach their already allotted seats.

Baffled, photographer Chalkie Davies and I forsake the Scotch queue for the one inside the pub…

Later, in the Playhouse, Supercharge do their obscene thing to the delight of the packed audience. They’ve lost keyboardist Iain Bradshow, at least for tonight, and the consequent weakening in the band’s already clanky rhythmic mesh is disturbing. But that famed Scots audience does its nut.

Whether it’s the Bay City Rollers spot, the new punk rock leapabout or a completely serious, lopsided semi-funk song, the response is probably as strong as Superchange have ever had anywhere - and this is distinctly an off night!

The Liverpool layabouts troop off and the “We want Queen” chants strike up as scurrying roadies prepare a spartan stage: no clever backdrops and stuff, just Roger Taylor’s mounds of cymbals in front of that ever-present gong and Brian May’s mountain of AC30s.

Darkness...gaspo… a clashing gong… squeals of delight from the youth next to me...yer usual symphonic electronic atmospheric fanfare sort of thing… fading up into the Gilbert and Sullivan middle section of “Bohemian Rhapsody”...a welling up of dry ice...clamorous welcome from the audience..the youth next to me digs his elbows in my ribs and bounces on his seat in delirium…

And they’re on, racing straight out of the recorded “Bohemian Rhapsody” into a live rendition of the heavy riff section that follows. Lights flash madly, there’s smoke all over the place, the youth next to me is screaming with joy, as are 3,000 other lunatic Scotspeople. If explosions aren’t going off it feels like it, and I jot down what Freddie Mercury is wearing in an attempt to keep a grip on my reeling brain.

A white boiler suit, it says here. What professionalism. That’s like a war correspondent noting the time as the wall he’s leaning on gets demolished by a tank.

The relentless sensory bombardment continues as Queen bomb out of “BoRhap” - “just gotta get right outta here”, and how can I disagree? - into a harsh melange of heavy metal riffs plastered with flash harmonies, which in turn gives way to a fast intrumental.

Basically it’s rubbish, a theatrical synthesis of the grossest lumps of regimented noise the sometime power trio can contrive. As they thunder away Mercury emerges from the wings once more, looking like a frog in a balletic white skintight catsuit, and magisterially conjures up giant flashes that erupt deafeningly out of the stage.

The audience do likewise from their serried seats.

Queen have arrived, in more ways than one. Britain’s most successful group of the decade poutingly confront their loyal subjects.

The drift of the piece is obvious, maybe. The crowd loves ‘em and the critic hates them. Well, as it happens I quite like them, but generally that’s a fair picture of rock press attitudes to Queen: at the end of the gig, when the only possible view of the band involved standing on the shoulders of the person jumping up and down on the seat in front of you, I picked out two isolated, sour faces. Critics.

It wasn’t always like that: briefly, at the beginning of ‘75, Queen had a mass audience and critical respect. Dave Downing, whose newly published book, Future Rock, ranges incisively across the whole spectrum of heavyweight rock - Dylan, Reed, Bowie, Floyd, et al - reviewed “Sheer Heart Attack” alongside Sparks’ “Propaganda” in Let It Rock, January 1975:

“I find Ron Mael’s lyrics offensively lacking any conviction but pride in their own cleverness…. The arrangements conquer all in their streamlined assurance…. I have visions of a Gilbert O’Sullivan gone progressive….”

Change that to Gilbert and Sullivan and it could easily be directed at “A Night At The Opera”. However, Downing had this to say of “Sheer Heart Attack”:

“In stark contrast we have Queen’s third album….this is the best new band I’ve heard for a long, long time….Queen have convinced me that the division of rock into heavy soft has been largely a way of covering up the lack of energy in either. Whether rocking, ballading, whatever….they’ve got energy to spare. They have the old Beatles-style oomph.

“....Brian May’s guitar stalks Freddie Mercury’s vocals with as much power, and probably more ingenuity, than Ronno achieved in the heady days of ‘Panic In Detroit’....

“....Freddie Mercury’s voice is equally amazing, hampered only by the lack of lyrics to do it and the music justice. Some rock bands get hampered by depth-lyrics; I think Queen would just grow.

“But that’s a hope rather than a criticism. The superb gloss on this record covers the real gold, rather than, as I fear in Sparks’ case, just substitutes for it….”

Right, Queen at the time of “Sheer Heart Attack” were poised, ready to choose pretty much whichever direction and status they fancied. They had fought through the original drawbacks of being camp followers churning out rather grotesque Led Zeppelin rip-offs, to become a tough, stylish unit coasting on the back of a devastating single, “Killer Queen”.

Although they lacked Bowie’s way with words, the initial implications of the name still clung to them, and it seemed, listening to “Sheer Heart Attack”, that all they needed were some hot lyrics and a little discipline to instate them as not only the most popular Britrockers since Bowie, but also the best.

The first thing that hits you on that album, after a snatch of fairground FX is vibrant power as May leads the ensemble through the whirlwind of “Brighton Rock”. It explodes with a kind of seaside energy to match his mundane holiday romance lyrics, and stakes out May’s own preferred patch on the words map: storytelling.

That type of power is almost entirely absent from “Opera”, and even in “Brighton Rock” it gets horribly dissipated by a ridiculous guitar solo, May following himself up and down the scale in a meaningless exercise quite divorced from the rest of the number.

Another type of power also missing from “Opera”, is found in “Now I’m Here”, a Who-ish (“I Can See for Miles”) feel leading into brilliant beefy harmonies - very much in the mould of Roy Thomas Baker, Queen producer throughout their career, and now used to good use on Sunfighter’s “Drag Race Queen” - which wouldn’t get a look-in among all the breathy harmonies of “Opera”.

It’s great rock, strong and goodtime, apparently about Queen’s US tour with Mott the Hoople.

Elsewhere on “Sheer Heart Attack”, however, lay the seeds of Queen’s decline.

“Bring Back That Leroy Brown” was the first indication of their capabilities completely outside rock. As such it was immaculately performed, a camp minstrel pastiche, but unwelcome.

“Lap Of The Gods (Part One)” featured and unnecessarily ostentatious intro; “Flick Of The Wrist”, a murkily heavy song with a uplifting Baker buzz of a chorus, May’s guitar splattered all over the place in another facet of aggression that would soon disappear, was unfortunately a prototype for the appalling “Death On Two Legs”.

“Death”, the opening track of “ANATO”, is seemingly aimed at their previous manager to John Reid. Astounding dense musically, its lyrics are horribly strident and self-righteous, a blinkered, vindictive tirade that says more about the writer than his subject.

This sort of unflinching immaturity epitomises the Queen scene to some extent: infants on the loose with the weapon of technology, everything sublimated to technique.

“Flick Of The Wrist”, its predecessor, was similarly nasty - and apparently dealt with the same topic - but it succeeds where “Death” does not because the singing is sublimated to the music and, particularly, because the words are secondary to the melody.

In Edinburgh “Flick Of The Wrist” comes fourth, and it’s not as good as the record, possibly because they’re struggling somewhat on the faster songs.

They’ve already done “Sweet Lady” from ANATO”, Mercury singing well and the band thundering confidently. But suddenly Brian May’s guitar goes out of tune from all the crashing it’s received, and he drags the tempo. The final crescendo almost catches fire, but could do better.

Freddie toasts Edinburgh with champagne before he and May, moodily posed under blue spots, venture timorously into the medievally romantic “White Queen” from “Queen II”. Freddie goes to the piano for May’s curling, echoed solo, and we catch up with ourselves on “Flick”.

Here May’s problem is highlighted, he can’t get a decent uptempo solo together. The song is pounding along, but it’s like a cover-up, charging through seemingly pointless changes with throwaway solos, as if they’re attempting to dazzle you with workrate, a treasure trove of superficialities.

John Deacon plays a strong bass, holding up the song if necessary, and Roger Taylor, while seeming rather detached from proceedings up on his high riser, plays solid, varied drums. Mercury’s singing is superb, and on this might it’s mainly May whose playing isn’t quite up to scratch.

The medley comes next, and it brings a little warmth to the garish, posturing event. John Deacon’s “You’re My Best Friend” comprises the first part. Like “Misfire”, his semi-Caribbean pop-rocker on “Sheer Heart Attack”, it’s the friendliest track on “Opera”, and, while May and Mercury mess with every musical genre known to man, the only straight rock song apart from Taylor’s exhilarating “I’m In Love With My Car”.

Onstage, Mercury’s lead vocal floats beautifully on the band’s okay harmonies, and the audience clap along with the lazy rhythm. May’s guitar solo isn’t loud enough, and he hits a horrible chord at the end of it, but it’s a good break.

The two-note chime at the end of “You’re My Best Friend”, a similar device to the end of “Killer Queen”, leads into “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

On record, “Bo Rhap” epitomises the heavy-handed idiocy that bugs their last album. There are actually a few great touches in the rambling epic, notably the guitar break that follows the operatic bit, with its sudden halved phrases towards the end and the subtle way May’s fade out figure is continued by Mercury’s solo piano. But the rest is cumbersome and, where not plainly stupid, pompous and unimaginative.

For some reason Brian May seemed to have lost all feeling for rock on “Opera”, and the first guitar break on “Rhapsody” was the album’s sole unscrambled solo bar the period piece, “Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon”. And as for Beelzebub…

But the words of “Bohemian Rhapsody” are even worse than the music. The basic scenario would seem to be the romanticised alienation of a “poor boy” who indulges Mercury’s gun fetish by killing a man, leading to some kind of tug-of-war between, er, two forces. Life and death? Heaven and hell? Does Freddie know?

There’s that brief stab of “just gotta get out of here” defiance, but we finish on the fatalism of “anyway the wind blows…” A vague tale of idealised emotions that quite possibly means nothing at all.

Mercury’s songs do have a tendency to be vague to the point of meaninglessness - where they’re not utterly trivial anyway. Triviality I can take- “Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon”, for instance, where Queen’s technical skill turns a brief, twee ditty into a tour-de-force, with a great guitar break in what I think of as Brian May’s Mrs. Dale’s Diary style and one particularly wonderful harmony line on “there he goes again” - but the depths of pretension are plumbed on Mercury’s more “serious” songs.

These are actually fairly rare, but Mercury’s deepest opus outside of “Rhapsody” is probably “In The Lap Of The Gods” on “Sheer Heart Attack”, a portentous, monolithic singalong which I like a lot musically, but whose only discernible meaning is, like the conclusion of “Rhapsody”, that old vague predestination schtick.

The rest of Mercury’s oeuvre consists of live ballads (the melodically poignant, lyrically incomprehensible “Lily Of The Valley” from “Attack” and the more narcissistic, less focussed, meandering “Love Of My Life”, least memorable on “Opera”); bitchiness (that horrible duo, “Flick Of The Wrist” and “Death On Two Legs”); and weird period pieces (“Leroy Brown”, “Lazing”, and “Seaside Rendezvous” from “Opera”).

“Seaside Rendezvous” is pretty interesting stuff, illustrating the bizarre purism that prompts Queen to boast “No Synthesisers” on their album sleeves. A long, ‘20s-style piece, it’s fully orchestrated with instrumental passages by both brass and woodwind sections - performed entirely on vocals!

It’s astounding. Queen are perfectionists, as we all know; perfect confectionists. Even Mercury’s lead vocal is done, as on a lot of the album, line by line to get that bursting out of the speaker effect.

And therein lies their undoing, for they seem to have spent so long working on “A Night At The Opera” that they completely lost sight of the record they were making, coming out with shallow perfection without the least hint of the fire of “Sheer Heart Attack”.

However, returning to Freddie’s oeuvre: the next song in the Edinburgh medley, following on from “Bohemian Rhapsody” - and missing the operatics, thank god - is “Killer Queen”.

What a song. Although they take it slower than on record it still sounds slightly rushed, the ideas fall so thick and fast.

It has so many virtues that “Opera” lacks: interesting music (that got neglected on “ANATO” in favour of performance); brevity; flash (“Opera” is positively pedestrian compared to the swagger of this mid-tempo marvel); and it’s unpretentious in its triviality, something that none of the work - at - it - for - six - months - to - get - the - vocals - sounding - like - George - Formby’s ukelele trivia on “Opera” could claim.

Back live, it transforms into the noisy “March Of The Black Queen” from “Queen II” and thence to the end of “Rhapsody”. Kimono Taylor’s gong jerks us into a snazzy rendition of “Leroy Brown”, purely instrumental, and end medley.

“Brighton Rock” follows, red hot and awful tight, Taylor’s falsetto screaming over the top, until…

Oh no, it’s this guitar virtuoso bit, where the others go off and leave May to fiddle about with his patented delayed action devices. The man has little idea of stage craft standing awkwardly on Freddie’s promontory and dashing back to his amp every now and then to twiddle another knob. The performance is clever, but he’s hardly playing great music - enough’s quite enough.

At points during this intermediate solo May hits something good - a glassy, Japanesey section, a mellow, symphonic bit - but his individual slot is plagued by the fault that haunts Queen and devalues what good stuff they do play: they’ve got no taste. Don’t know good from bad.

They can perform, and they’re very bright boys (according to Larry Pryce’s unwonderfully written and uninformative Official Biography Of Queen, Brian may or may not have a PhD in Astronomy, Mercury a degree in graphics and illustration, Deacon an honours degree in electronics, and Taylor a degree in biology) but as for taste…

As if to emphasise that point, Taylor returns to do his dumb trick with lager on his tomtoms and they lumber into a bunch of monotonous, archetypal heavy metal riffs.

Next song, “‘39”, has the four down front - May on acoustic and Taylor on tambourine and bass drum.

My, they look well-coifed. Mercury demonstrates his fine voice again.

A newie, “You Take My Breath Away”, from the album currently known as “A Day At The Races” - half-finished - shows Freddie still pludding the fragile ballad vein, a hesitant, precious ditty accompanied by lone piano, old fashioned and unexceptional.

But then it’s Brian’s big moment, composition-wise: “The Prophet’s Song.” In Pryce’s book May explains that the plot came to him in a dream: “...a dream concerning revenge, only in the dream I wasn’t able to work out what it was revenge for.”

So out of the astronomer’s subconscious comes this Noah’s Ark parable seemingly set in the present, with a ship full of humans apparently heading off into space.

Musically it’s “Old English”, according to Roger Taylor, the rock equivalent of a Prussian military division marching to the Crusades, marred by the most fatuously self-indulgent acapella nonsense imaginable in the middle.

If Queen were chameleons to begin with (Zep meets Bowie), they’re even more that way inclined now, changing personality completely from one song to the next (George Formby meets Cecil B. DeMille meets…) It’s a treatment to which May’s songs lend themselves.

“Good Company” is a very English tale, another vague moral story, done Formby style, with an extraordinary guitar ensemble imitating a complete trad jazz band, another labour of months for a trivial piece of flash.

“‘39”, the acoustic song, seems to be another slice of science fiction, an obscure folk tale which disguises its meaning frustratingly well. Nice feel, though.

Onstage “The Prophet’s Song” is launched amid billows of dry ice and taped wind. As they muscle their way through the heavy chorus I keep expecting them to bump into one another in the confusion, but they manage not to. Anyway, the others clear off when Mercury goes into his ridiculous echoed vocals workout, a one-man Swingle Singers, appalling narcissism.

The audience, to their shame, seem entranced by the spectacle of the great poseur and his myriad voices. Nauseating.

At the end of the song to revolving globes descend and a tape of jangling piano speeds dizzyingly. The globes rise - UFOs taking off?

Anyway, it gives Fred a chance to change into a grotesque black outfit, and suddenly we’re back into the flashing lights/strobes.racing adrenalin scene again with “Stone Cold Crazy”, very fast and heavy, May playing a good scientific solo.

Freddie goes pianoing again for “Doing All Right” from “Queen”, slow and laconic with waterfalling guitar and lovely harmonies, but that gives way to a lousy solo over an unexpectedly Brazilian riff and more unnecessary changes. What are they trying to hide?

“Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon” is neat, and then the crowd get “Keep Yourself Alive”, which they’ve been baying for. It’s an okay song, but they do it terribly heavy and insult the listener with their soulless, declamatory attempts at communication.

Queen almost boogie on “Tie Your Momma Down”, also from the new LP, the most straightforward song so far with a slide break that veers towards a 12-bar. Freddie postures crassly under the rather inept lighting.

“Liar” from “Queen” comes in on a Bo Diddley beat, and as it gets into typical Queen HM jaggedness May slings out a real nasty phrase that sneers at the ineffectual stuff he’s played all evening.

As it dissolves into aimlessness it becomes obvious that Queen live are some great songs, an image and a lot of noise. Their heavy metal is no better than the likes of Nazareth, unfocussed, with no real dynamics outside of structural party tricks. A cover-up job for essentially lumpen music… yet they are capable of so much more.

“Lap Of The Gods” picks things up, its relentless chorus rising and falling on good chords - a rare commodity for Queen, as is its stable rhythm - and as the stage vanishes beneath dry ice they kiss goodbye.

Now this I don’t believe. Never in my life, outside of the likes of the Rollers, have I encountered such a hysterical response to a band. It’s like a riot, kids charging about in the smoky darkness, and if Queen don’t get back there soon this lot are going to knock the place down.

The encore is the great “Now I’m Here”, followed by their “Rock’n’roll” medley of “Big Spender” and “Jailhouse Rock.” They really shouldn’t do that. Mercury’s got no idea about getting down and having a good time, and his attempts to get audience participation are laughable. It’s scrappy stuff, and even their rock’n’roll is spoilt by too many changes!

As for where Queen go from here, the two songs they played from the next album were undistinguished, and can give no hint of what it will contain.

Nowever, it’s pretty obvious they’ve driven so far up their particular blind alley that there’s virtually no hope of them ever fulfilling the potential that was there in “Sheer Heart Attack.” They could have been giants of real music, but it seems they are destined to remain the most perfect indulgence in rock. Masters of style, void of content.

#1976 #a night at the opera #review #new musical express #queen

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ambitionsource · 5 years

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AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “Stripped” [ 1.06 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

NOTHING BUT THE BEAT – In Lucas’s absence, Shawn and Angela give the techies a break by declaring all numbers acoustic for the duration of the week. Farkle can’t get a grip on the assignment. Zay fights a creeping sense of isolation.

45 Minutes (7.5K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Extra, Extra ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ Black, The Color Of Techies Scorned → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A brand new week. ANGELA MOORE is standing in front of the seats, looking up at her stage with a certain sense of apprehension. But she claps us in anyway. Five, six, seven, eight…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Puttin’ On the Ritz” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

FARKLE MINKUS kicks off the number performing in the Victor Frankenstein role, and MAYA HART and ZAY BABINEAUX soon joining him for the first third. It seems like a perfectly normal performance, and there’s nothing ambitious or off-putting about it. In fact, with their combined stage presence and star power, it’s a rather enjoyable little number.

That is, until the dance break.

When the dance break kicks off and all of the performers filter onto the stage (Wyatt noticeably absent, of course), the number kicks up a notch. The dancing is intense, for one, but the strain that truly begins to show is how hard the techies are working to keep up with the overzealous staging requirements.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Yes, it’s the first full week of Lucas’s suspension, and his absence is being felt throughout the entire techie brigade. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is in Lucas’s usual seat with headset on, trying to keep everything from falling apart, but considering she had a rather difficult week herself not so long ago, she’s not in top form and seconds away from a break down. She snaps commands into the headset instead, definitely not spreading an aura of confidence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

While the tap dancing continues, the techies are running around frantically backstage in an effort to keep the production aspects of the number afloat. ASHER GARCIA gets so overwhelmed and out of breath that he faints, DYLAN ORLANDO barely managing to catch him in his arms. JADE BEAMON has had to step up and work as a stagehand, but it’s totally out of her comfort zone so she’s not much help.

NATE MARTINEZ and DAVE WILLIAMS are in charge of moving a rather large set piece at the end of the number, but several circumstances prevent the transition from being ready in time. Instead, as the tapping comes to a thrilling conclusion, Dave ends up tripping on a section of curtain rope and brings the whole back curtain tumbling down.

It startles the performers, all of them shrieking and jumping out of the way. They hadn’t even noticed how much the techies were struggling. Angela claps, reluctantly, before insisting they all disband for a break.

Angela: Davis, you’re not injured are you?

[ Nate and Jade have dug Dave out of the mountain of curtain. He’s dazed, but gives her a thumbs up. ]

Angela: Oh, good. Because our insurance definitely wouldn’t have covered that.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela and SHAWN HUNTER are eating lunch together, managing a much better rapport than they’ve displayed the last few episodes. It is clear they are taking their agreement to put their feud aside seriously, and both quite willingly. If anything, they seem perfectly content to spend a lunch hour in each other’s company.

Shawn nods along as Angela describes the train wreck they just watched unfold, and he claims he’s not surprised. Given everything that happened last week and the current absences, they’re going to be a bit off-kilter.

Shawn: I know he doesn’t come off this way, but Lucas is more of a leader than you’d expect. If anything, he does a good job of keeping everybody in line. It’s not a shock to me that the train is sliding off the track without that discipline.

Angela: Even with Isadora?

Shawn: Isadora is brilliant, but she’s got her own shit to deal with after last week. Thrusting the entire operation of the crew on her shoulders maybe isn’t the best idea right now, regardless of how capable she typically is.

Angela doesn’t have any arguments against that. She accepts it, instead attempting to problem solve how they’re going to handle the next week if circumstances are going to remain out of the ordinary. Shawn states that his main goal is just to keep his kids from falling apart any more than they already have, so if the performers could cut them some slack that would be great.

This actually seems to give Angela an idea. She nods along, promising him that she thinks she can do him one better. When they exchange a look and Angela gives him a knowing, mischievous smirk, it’s evident that there’s definite romantic tension between them reignited again. Wonder if that’s gonna go anywhere…

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Zay is sitting at the usual table with CHARLIE GARDNER, YINDRA AMINO, and NIGEL CHEY. Only now, Maya has joined their ranks as well. The group of them gab on and on about their afterschool plans, how they spent the weekend, etc., Zay mostly just half-listening and not exactly contributing to the conversation.

When Maya lobs the question of afterschool plans towards him, he sort of shrugs it off and doesn’t have much to offer. He claims he has a lot of rehearsing to do, and they don’t question it because after all, Zay is the most popular student in their class. Of course, he’s a busy, busy man.

Zay is like ha ha, yeah, and don’t you forget it… but as the conversation drifts to another topic, his smile sort of fades as he focuses back on his food.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Rather than sitting at the usual table, RILEY MATTHEWS is seated outside in the lunch courtyard with Isadora. It’s the same table where Lucas and Riley escaped to get fresh air in the previous episode, and apparently where the techies prefer to sit when it’s not frigid outside. In this case, it allows them some distance from the scene of the crime of last episode.

Riley attempts to get a read on how Isadora is feeling, but it’s difficult to tread without coming off like she’s treating her differently. Isadora is like could you chill, I’m fine, I will be fine, which Riley takes as her cue to tone down the concern a little bit. She also has other curiosities on her mind, so she shifts gears to that instead.

Riley: So, um… have you talked to Lucas? How is he handling the suspension?

Isadora: I don’t know. We haven’t talked much.

Riley: Is everything okay? Between you two?

Isadora: No, yeah, we’re fine. It’s just that when he’s not around, like right there in front of you… I don’t know. He can be hard to get a hold of.

Riley does not like the sound of that, but she doesn’t question it further. Isadora changes the subject, the two of them continuing to pick at their lunch.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Returning back to class, Shawn and Angela stand together on the stage and announced their weekly assignment. Performers will be choosing acoustic songs only for the duration of the week. This is to stretch their natural ability and wean them off the reliance on props and spectacle, but also to give the techies a bit of a breather.

The performers, particularly the divas, are not happy about this decision. If they’re not being flashy, what is their purpose? Farkle tries to plead for help.

Farkle: This is an outrage. It’s a joke. Ms. Moore…

Angela: I’m with Hunter on this one. [ off Farkle’s disgusted reaction ] We all could do with a little refocusing, and it’ll be easier for everyone involved.

Maya: For the whole week?

Angela: The techies are short-staffed –

Farkle, in disbelief: They’re missing one person!

Dave: It feels like more. :(

The mandate has been delivered, and despite Farkle’s greatest protests, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to change. Zay, like usual, finds all of their whining and moaning over the whole thing to be ridiculous.

Zay: You’ve all become so reliant on razzle-dazzle you’ve forgotten how to actually perform. Or maybe you just never had it in the first place.

Farkle: Oh, like you’re so much better. You’re no more prepared than the rest of us.

Zay: You think so, huh? It’s fine, I can show you the ropes.

Zay hops up onto the stage, pointing to Charlie in the audience. He beckons him up with him, directing him towards the piano as his acoustic accompaniment. Charlie’s surprised, but not opposed to the singling out, and happily jumps up to help.

Zay: [ over his shoulder, to Charlie ] You’ll keep up.

Charlie: [ bemused, but also kind of charmed ]

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Perfect Places (Acoustic)” as performed by Eden Mary || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. Charlie Gardner)

The performance is simplistic and stripped down, but just as engaging as ever. Zay oozes natural stage presence, and his vocals with Charlie’s piano skills aren’t a bad match. As the performance goes on, Charlie glances up numerous times from the keys to smile at him from behind.

Angela sort of dances along, evidently pleased that someone seems to be taking well to the assignment. The other performers seem to be coming around as well, save for Farkle. He’s grumpy throughout, obviously not thrilled with this new development.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is joining JACK HUNTER for dinner, keeping up with their usual monthly half-brother meal. The two of them discuss what’s going on with their respective ends of the school, Shawn explaining their acoustic mandate of the week while Jack updates him on the progress he’s making of trying to figure out who is running AAA Confessions – which is to say, little progress.

Shawn empathizes, as part of the reason the Insta is so successful is because of the anonymous and hands-off way it operates. They didn’t have anything like this when they were teenagers. Especially because regardless of who is running the account, they’re not the ones making every post – anyone who submits a post is liable in some regard.

Still, they’re not without potential suspects. After rattling off some student names they narrow down to their three prime kids with motive – Farkle, Maya, and Lucas.

Shawn rules out Farkle, stating that while he’s definitely insane, he doesn’t have the time to spare doing something like that when he’s so obsessed with being front and center all the time. He hardly sees him on his phone. They also both agree that Maya isn’t all that likely a culprit either, as she wants the opportunities at AAA more than anything and would never do something so stupid that could jeopardize everything (hence, her squeaky clean appearance).

Lucas is a little trickier to unpack. Even Shawn, his biggest defender, can’t deny that he has blatant motive just because of how much he resents being at the school. Not to mention, the techies are rarely featured. Still, Shawn points out that Lucas would never throw Isadora under the bus like with what happened last week.

Jack doesn’t take much arguing, as he doesn’t believe it’s Lucas. Shawn is admittedly a bit surprised by this, but as always, Jack has clearly thought things through.

Jack: It’s not that I don’t see the motive, believe me, I see enough of it every day. But I’ve also been reprimanding him for almost two years now, and this kind of behavior… it’s just not his mode of operation. He acts the way kids at our school did growing up, you know – reckless, hotheaded, choice actions –

Shawn: You can say you’re talking about me, dear brother of mine. It’s okay. I can take the shade.

Jack: [ ignoring him ] This Instagram stuff, it’s too methodical. Too much maintenance involved. Not to mention, there’s no way Lucas cares enough about his fellow students to orchestrate something like this.

Jack goes on to highlight the situation from the week prior, highlighting that Shawn is right – considering the reasons he started the fight with Wyatt, he has a difficult time believing he would do something so cruel to Isadora. Even if it’s a convenient cover.

Jack: I’m not saying he isn’t a troublemaker – it would be impossible to say such a bold-faced fallacy. [ off Shawn’s expression ] But I don’t know, the whole situation with Miss De La Cruz and how things have been this past year… I feel like I’m not getting the full picture. Like there might be more under the surface in this case that I haven’t considered.

Shawn isn’t going to argue with that – he’s been there himself. And while they both feel pretty confident ruling him out as an AAAC suspect, that just puts Jack back at square one and empty-handed.

Jack switches gears instead, turning the conversation to Angela. He’s definitely noticed the new tension that has blossomed between them. Shawn claims that things are better as far as work, but Jack isn’t asking about work. He questions whether Shawn wants to go down this road again with someone as talented (and flighty) as Moore, but he deflects and claims nothing is going to happen anyway. She’s a star, and he’s a deadbeat. That’s all there is to it.

Jack doesn’t look convinced, taking a pointed bite of his food.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Speaking of Instagram, that’s what Zay is focusing on as he lazes around at home. He scrolls through his feed, looking at all the photos of his classmates being social and seemingly having the time of their lives as Instagram is wont to put forth. And there he is, sprawled on his living room couch and hanging out with his family.

He’s evidently just finished lamenting the situation to his mother, DONNA BABINEAUX. His sister JADA BABINEAUX (20), sophomore at the Fashion Institute of Technology, is also there to chime in with sarcasm and jaded twenty-year-old wisdom.

Aside from Zay’s isolation, Donna comments on one of the other factors that might be contributing to his feelings of isolation with disbelief.

Donna: I have a hard time believing that there is not one other boy at that school who deviated from the straight and narrow path of sexuality.

Zay: Unfortunately, the ones that have are either taken or idiots. Or both.

Jada: What about that kid with the weird name? The obnoxious Jewish one who wears blazers even on casual Friday.

Zay: Farkle? You want me to befriend Farkle?

Jada: I’m just saying, anyone that dedicated to a suit jacket and the career of Rachel Berry can’t be straight.

Her wisdom doesn’t stop there.

Jada: Don’t worry. Once you get to college, everyone is so concerned with labeling themselves and exploring their identities that you won’t even be able to keep up with all the eligible men suddenly in your reach.

Zay: Charming.

But all that isn’t really what Zay is stuck on anyway. The romance stuff, he can wait on – but it’s getting real isolating up at the top. Considering he’s the most popular student in his grade, in theory, he should be blowing up with requests to hang out. And yet.

Donna suggests that Zay reach out to some of his friends outside of AAA. Limiting himself to the same artistic crop of people might be doing more harm than good – maybe he’s just got a little cabin fever. He shrugs the suggestion off, but there might be merit to the idea. He contemplates as he continues to scroll through that daunting, isolating Insta feed…

INT. MATTHEWS’ APARTMENT - NIGHT

The Matthews family doesn’t operate with nearly the same comfort as the Babineaux clan. Their family dinner is quiet, heavy with a weird kind of tension. CORY MATTHEWS and TOPANGA MATTHEWS won’t even look at each other, which AUGGIE MATTHEWS doesn’t notice but Riley clocks immediately.

She tentatively explains that she probably won’t be around much this week, as she’s going to be hanging out with friends from school. Cory seems concerned by this, wondering who the friend is and when she thinks she will be home – operating with more protectiveness than maybe necessary. Topanga, on the other hand, abruptly cuts him off and tells Riley to have fun.

The look Cory shoots her is yet another red flag. Riley is dying of curiosity (and dread), but she opts to avoid whatever may be coming around the bend for her and just follow Topanga’s directive. She focuses back on her food. As the ukulele of “Riptide” floats in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Riptide” as performed by Vance Joy || Performed by Charlie Gardner (feat. Nick Yogi & Dave Williams)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie performs an upbeat and energetic rendition of the chart topper as his assignment, Dave providing the ukulele backing and Yogi backing him on harmonies. It’s a nice upturn compared to the heavy acoustic that permeates most of the episode. As he dances around with the microphone stand, a montage launches us through the rest of the students attempting to figure out what their performances are going to be.

Farkle is struggling the most with the assignment. He runs through dozens of concepts, creating mood boards for each of them – all too complicated or flashy to qualify for a stripped down week. Angela continuously vetoes them. He’s going to lose his mind.

Shawn meets with the techies on the stage while the performers are in the black box, seated with them on the floor. He explains that given the nature of this week and the absence of their usual work, it has been requested that each of them perform a number as well. This earns a predictable uproar, but Shawn attempts to placate their panic by assuring them that they will only have to perform for one another, not the performers.

When they’re still not convinced, Shawn points out that the stakes are subterranean levels of low and they just need to get it out of the way. As they’re dismissed, Dave shakes his head.

Dave: You all are damn lucky Lucas isn’t here. That man would never stand for this.

A fair point, but then Lucas is not there is he? So the assignment stands.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Isadora gives this update to Riley, who is far more enthused by the possibilities than she is. She immediately offers to help her practice, guaranteeing her they’ll find the perfect number for her to perform. She basically clears her entire schedule. It’s obvious that Isadora appreciates the help, but is pointedly uncertain over how she feels about this new challenge.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The bell rings, releasing students for the day. Angela spots Shawn through the exiting crowds and jogs to catch up to him, snagging him by the arm and pulling him into a conversation. She suggests that the two of them get together to discuss what the rest of the semester is going to look like, considering if they’re going to be working together and bridging their divides it’s going to take a lot more collaborating.

Shawn is surprised, but agrees and offers to come to her place that evening. Angela enthusiastically confirms, allowing him to walk away from her. The expression on her face as she watches him go says it all – she’s very excited about this academic get-together. Oh, Miss Moore…

EXT. FOSTER HOME - DAY

Isadora leads the way up the steps of her elegant and well-kept foster home. Riley is stunned as she follows her, obviously not expecting such a nice place in Brooklyn to be the home of Isadora De La Cruz. What she was expecting, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t this.

As Riley comments on the beauty of the place, Isadora shrugs it off. She clearly holds limited warmth towards the mini-mansion.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Riley is distracted by the other foster kids coming and going as Isadora gets the both of them a snack. While they’re there, KAREN VAN HERSCHING (50s) enters with one of the babies, ADRIEN WOODS (3) in tow. She’s shocked to see Isadora with a new friend, more than happy to greet Riley who seems like a sweet and normal girl.

Karen: It’s so nice to meet you. Isadora doesn’t bring many of her friends around. The one we’ve met, he’s… [ searching for the polite phrasing ] well, he’s interesting.

Riley: I’m familiar with his work, yes.

After Karen asks them a dozen times if they need anything and not to hesitate to ask, Isadora escapes the conversation and leads Riley upstairs.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - DAY

Riley again tries to discuss the foster situation now that she’s seen it for herself, but Isadora is an expert at deflection on this particular topic. She continues to sidestep and refocus on the assignment until Riley relents, allowing them to shift the conversation. She jumps on the mention of Lucas, obviously following up on a subject they were chatting about earlier.

Riley: Oh yeah, did Lucas respond about us stopping by?

Isadora: [ nonchalantly ] Oh, yeah. He said no.

Riley: … oh. Okay. Cool.

It’s okay, Riley. Chin up. It’s not you, it’s him. Believe me.

EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

Zay is finishing his commute home, walking down his street with his headphones on. Outside his house, he hesitates on an older text message with one of his friends from middle school. It’s been a couple weeks since they last texted.

After a moment, he types out a text asking if they want to hang out. He almost hits send, but can’t bring himself to do it. He locks his phone, walking up the rest of the steps to his front door.

Then, he changes his mind. He huffs, pulling up the message again and hitting send in a beat of frenzy. Within moments the friend responds, happily agreeing and beginning to make plans.

Zay exhales in relief, already feeling a little bit less alone. He smiles, stepping into his house.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

Maya enters the old-fashioned diner, a familiar haunt for the students of AAA. At a nearby table, KATY HART finishes up gabbing with a regular customer. As she heads back, she exchanges a smile with Maya who hops up onto a stool at the counter.

She doesn’t waste a second to update her mother on their current assignment, asking for advice considering Katy was the one who pointed out to her that not every performance has to be a flashy showstopper. How would she go about tackling this assignment? Katy thinks on it, humming to herself as she wipes down the counter.

Katy: To be honest, I’ve always preferred singing duets. Sharing a song with a friend is always better than singing alone, especially if you can’t hide behind smoke and mirrors.

Maya absorbs this, allowing Katy the affectionate gesture of pushing some hair from her face. Then she offers her a smile.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn shows up to Angela’s as promised, a bit awkward as she eagerly leads him inside and shows him around but not all that opposed to being there. Although there is lingering hesitation with one another, both of them are putting forth their best efforts to meet in the middle and find common ground. So the gathering is friendly above all else.

Perhaps, in some ways, a little more friendly than colleagues would allow for. Although they’re there to work, Angela does pull out a bottle of wine about halfway through the evening, so it’s pretty clear that this meeting isn’t going to maintain a sense of professionalism. After a couple of drinks they’re laughing and joking around, gossiping about their students and fellow employees and ruminating on how wild their jobs seem to be for a couple of educators.

Shawn claims that he’s hardly an educator, and Angela vehemently disagrees with him. A pitch too passionately, with the alcohol talking. She points out how far he’s come in cleaning up his act, how he’s able to strike a great balance of stern yet supportive, and more than anything how much those geeky tech kids look up to him. It’s clear he cares about them, is more dedicated to them than maybe anything he’s ever known in his life.

The passion drifts into a moment, the two of them holding eye contact as Angela loses her train of thought. Thankfully, the music player switching songs provides them a distraction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dreams” as performed by Lissie || Performed by Angela Moore

The Fleetwood Mac classic prompts Angela to get up from her seat, proclaiming how much she loves the song. Shawn states that he remembers, as they listened to it all the time when they were dating back in college. Angela begins an impromptu sing-along, essentially taking over the number. She dances around the living room, Shawn watching in amusement and lowkey mesmerized.

About halfway through, she pulls Shawn into the dance, too. It’s a sloppy, loose pas de deux, harkening back to the simplicity of being young and in love and dancing around drunk in college like the future was theirs to control.

As the song begins to fade, Shawn and Angela descend into laughter… which then turns into a kiss. Then, somehow, another one. And another. Clearly, Shawn was wrong about the two of them never happening again.

As they conduct their business…

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Zay hangs out with his friends from middle school, the group of them out to eat. While there’s a clear rapport between all of them and it’s evident they’re pals, Zay continues to struggle to feel seen. He doesn’t really fit in with his former friends anymore – they all like him, of course, but they don’t really get him. There’s not many spaces for him to add to the conversation.

He’s not dramatic enough for the divas at AAA, but he’s not grounded enough in the mundane for his former friends. He’s a nowhere man, and it’s starting to get to him.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley and Isadora are hidden away in her room, practicing scales on her keyboard. She is eager to help Isadora find confidence in her voice, but Isadora is still reluctant. Although they’re growing a solid friendship, she’s not comfortable enough around her to take the assignment seriously. She may have a piqued interest in performing, but it’s not strong enough to override her self-consciousness.

Isadora messes up another scale and grows frustrated, giving up. Riley tries to encourage her but she’s not having it, instead going into a mini-rant about how she might actually fail. She might fail something for the first time in her life, as if nothing else could go wrong this month.

Before Riley can put a positive spin on things, their conversation is interrupted by Cory and Topanga reentering the apartment. Their voices are raised and the discussion is obviously an argument. Cory sounds particularly distressed. Riley’s eyes widen, glancing towards the door.

They wait for the argument to dull to intense whispers, disappearing behind the closed door across the hall. Isadora watches Riley, realizing that her life might be far from rainbows and optimistic spins. Embarrassed, Riley agrees that maybe it’s time to call it a night and states that Isadora should probably get ready to go.

EXT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

The group of friends heads out, still gabbing and planning their next move. Zay sort of lingers behind, a bit zoned out. When one of his friends catches his attention and asks if he wants to come along to the movies with them, he sort of shrugs it off and makes up a lie that he needs to head home. Early morning tomorrow with rehearsals. A couple of others try to convince him to come, but he’s just not feeling it. They all bid him goodnight, stating they should do this again.

Zay watches them go, just as easy going as before. Unmoved, with or without him. Zay exhales, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading in the opposite direction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mr. Brightside” as performed by Run River North || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. AAA Sophomores)

A soft guitar rift floats us into the number, Zay singing quietly as he meanders his way back home through the city. The performance is truly stripped, the visuals of the city at night acting more as the star as Zay walks through them. The shots pan through twinkling lights, street art in splashes of color on the brick behind him muted in the night, passing amongst groups of friends and couples enjoying each other’s company and feeling much like the subject of the song – an observer, yet pointedly removed.

As the song continues on, the voices of the rest of the cast ease in although they may or may not be pictured. Drifting away from Zay…

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is in her room, headphones on and listening to scales and the notes from the song she’s thinking about performing. She’s trying her hardest to block out everything else and focus, but her foster siblings are being distracting enough. It’s clear she’s growing more and more nervous about the assignment.

INT. FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is in a frenzy, brainstorming more ideas for the assignment but scrapping all of them. He crumples up another page of sheet music and tosses it to the side of the bed, flopping backwards onto his bed and hiding his head in his arms.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley has finished getting ready for bed, passing by the door to her parents’ bedroom. She thinks about knocking, but ultimately decides against it. She’s not sure she wants to know what has conferred on the other side.

She walks away, avoiding the problem for another day.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is getting ready to head out, pulling his shirt back on over his head and reaching for his jacket. Angela comes up from behind him, in her robe, pulling him around to face her. In the serenity of the night, something allows them to be softer than usual.

She takes his face in her hands, pulling him into a soft kiss. Both of them smile lightly, exchanging another one before Shawn starts to leave.

EXT. SUBWAY STATION - NIGHT

Zay has made it to his subway stop, rounding out the song. It’s soft, melancholy, permeating the New York evening. Then, he descends the stairs to the tracks below, disappearing in the crowd.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora approaches an unfamiliar doorstep the next afternoon after school, stepping up and hitting the buzzer pointedly. It’s not the greatest neighborhood, and she looks a couple of times over her shoulder. Somewhere in the building above, a baby cries. A TV runs. A cramped, overcrowded apartment building with residents who can barely afford to live there.

After a long moment, the door swings open. LUCAS FRIAR is standing there, frowning at Isadora. She doesn’t say anything, the two of them having a tacit exchange. It’s clear he doesn’t want her there, and yet she’s there anyway. She’s Dora, and he’s not going to turn her away.

After a moment he rolls his eyes, stepping back and nodding for her to come in. She does so, marching past him. He shuts the door behind her.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

Lucas and Isadora are cooped up on his tiny fire escape, just big enough for the two of them to sit in if she stays cross-legged and he stretches his feet into the window. Through the pane, a cramped and uncomfortable bedroom is visible. It’s a mess as typical of any teenage boy, but also because there’s simply so much stuffed into a tiny space, and clearly not all of it is his. His bed is a mattress stacked on unshelved books and crammed into the corner.

It’s a paradox, feeling overused yet distinctly abandoned. The small refuge of a person who hates to be there.

His parents are nowhere in sight. Isadora asks him how suspension is treating him, which he shrugs off and doesn’t really answer. She gets a good look at him – aside from the bruises still healing from the fight at school, he doesn’t look much different. Not in any noticeable way.

For some reason, this prompts the question of his parents and how they took the punishment.

Lucas: Mama didn’t really care. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. Just double-checked that I could still go back, eventually.

Isadora: … and your dad?

Lucas: In Texas on business. So he doesn’t know. Think mama wants to keep it that way. So nothing. [ A beat. Then, matter-of-factly. ] For now.

Isadora searches for a change of subject. She explains what he’s missed since he’s been gone, which he seems unimpressed with. He doesn’t react much until she notes the assignment for the week and the fact that the techies have to perform too.

Lucas: What? They can’t do that, they can’t make you perform.

Isadora: Somehow, everyone knew that’s exactly what you would say.

Lucas hesitates then huffs, slouching back against the bars of the fire escape and crossing his arms. Sucks to be so predictable.

Isadora claims that’s the main reason that she’s there. She’s running out of time to figure out the assignment, but she’s totally stuck and can’t concentrate. She thinks that he can help her, to which Lucas is wholly skeptical. But Isadora knows exactly how, getting to her feet and stepping back in through his window.

Lucas: What – what are you doing?

Isadora: [ digging through the chaos, on a mission ] I know it’s in here somewhere…

Isadora exhales an exclamation of victory, retrieving an acoustic guitar from the depths of the storage closet / bedroom. No, our eyes are not deceiving us – it’s old, a little banged up, but definitely a working guitar. In Lucas James Friar’s bedroom.

Lucas groans in disdain and Isadora heads back out towards him, already refusing and reminding her that he hasn’t touched that thing in years. He probably doesn’t even know how to use it anymore. She should put it back. Actually, she should smash it and burn the remains. He’s not playing it. He’s not going to do it.

Isadora ignores him, coming back to stand in front of him. She holds it out to him, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Another tacit exchange, holding each other’s glares.

She wins, as she always does. Lucas grunts out a “fine,” taking the axe from her and adjusting his position so he can situate with it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Breathin’” as performed by Adam Christopher || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. Lucas Friar)

Lucas launches into the rough opening notes of “Breathin’,” simplistic on guitar. It’s clear he’s rusty, but he definitely did once know how to play the guitar and still retains some of that ability. Boy, if the gent isn’t an enigma…

Finally in a setting where she focus, Isadora starts the first verse of the Ariana ode to conquering anxiety. It’s a little breathy at first, a little nervous, but Isadora was correct in her instinct that being with someone she trusts without question would help her push through her hesitancy. When she gets to the first chorus, she locks eyes with Lucas and the two of them exchange smiles. Not a bad way to spend a suspended afternoon.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Dylan takes over the guitar as the performance transitions to the auditorium, Isadora giving her required rendition in front of the techies. Riley is also present, as an invited guest of the singer. The group watches, soft and proud, as Isadora gives a great performance. It’s clear now that this girl can sing, even if she opts not to. What potential that has…

The techies give her resounding applause, Asher and Dave giving a standing ovation. Shawn thanks her and then dismisses the group. Riley gets up and approaches her, congratulating her on a job well done and stating she’s glad she was able to work through the hesitation she was having. Isadora notes offhandedly that she had Lucas help her.

After a moment, Riley ventures gently if Isadora was thinking about him while performing it. Isadora confirms the notion, not thinking much of it. While Riley can certainly empathize, it’s evident that her curiosity as to what exactly the relationship is between Lucas and Isadora is becoming insatiable. She’s always been a little nosy, and for some reason she just continues to find herself more invested in the stakes of what this dynamic might be… just, for some unidentifiable reason…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The performers are dismissing from their class, everyone gathering their things and heading out. As Farkle stresses to Angela in the background, Charlie and Zay start to reassemble the desks and help clean up. After Farkle storms out, Angela thanks them for tidying up before heading out herself.

Charlie observes how solemn Zay is, pointing out that he sure started out the week with a lot of confidence to look so deflated now. He brushes him off, but when Charlie doesn’t budge and continues to eye him expectantly, Zay finds himself wanting to talk about it. It’s nice for someone to actually be paying him attention.

It’s surprisingly easy to discuss with Charlie. He essentially explains his weird sense of isolation, how even though he is purportedly the most popular student in their grade he feels like everyone is at arm’s length. Riley enters mid-conversation, hanging back as to not interrupt but clearly listening on how it unfolds.

Charlie expresses sympathy and claims he knows the sensation. Zay sort of scoffs, but Charlie really accurately paints a picture of what he’s talking about.

Charlie: No, really. That feeling where you know you should be living the life, everything is in place for you to reap the rewards, but you just feel… like you’re not really there. Like you’re outside of your own experience and so everything is intangible. Disjointed.

Zay: … yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s it.

Charlie: Like I said, I get it.

Case in point, Charlie doesn’t have any solutions that will easily fix the problem. But he does state that Zay could’ve asked him to hang out, and he would’ve said yes.

Charlie: I know I’m not as cool as you or Maya, but I think on a good day I can be fun. Especially if you’re desperate. [ off Zay’s chuckle ] You know, since someone taught me how.

Charlie gives him a playful nudge on the shoulder, patting him on the back before heading out. He locks eyes with Riley as they pass one another, exchanging a smile and nod with her. As she steps in, Zay asks her how much she overheard to which she admits most of it. He’s like eavesdrop much, to which she shrugs sheepishly but doesn’t refute. This is just Riley, you gotta get used to it Zayby.

She asks why Zay didn’t tell her he was feeling all of those things, to which he claims he didn’t want to inconvenience her or anyone else. She argues that they’re friends, so his discomfort or loneliness is never going to be an inconvenience to her, especially if she’s in a position to help.

Riley: You were the first person to show me kindness in this hellscape. You were my first actual friend.

Zay: I hope that’s not first actual friend ever.

Riley: I know I’ve been sort of… I’ve been distracted by some other things lately. I’m sorry if I left you behind in the process. I’m going to try and be a better friend, but you have to promise me that you’re going to help me do that. Total honesty.

Zay is charmed, so he agrees. The two of them exchange a hug, Riley brightening and claiming that she already needs his help if he’s willing to give it. She hasn’t completed her assignment yet this week, after all, and she sure could use a duet partner for the song she’s thinking of…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “FourFiveSeconds” as performed by Rihanna, Kanye West, and Paul McCartney || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Riley Matthews

Riley and Zay perform a fun and loose rendition of the pop hit, Riley on guitar while the two of them harmonize. They’re up on stools in the front of the classroom, the rest of the performers seated amongst the desks and jamming along. It’s sweet, and watching the two of them sing together and make each other lowkey laugh while performing is the most endearing. Now there is a friendship worth stanning.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class is wrapping up for the day, only one more day in the week for the assignment. Farkle still hasn’t figured it out, running one more frantic idea by Angela who is growing frustrated with how he seems unable to grasp the assignment. She points out that he knows he’s talented, they both do, so why can’t that be enough? Why can’t he let go of the spectacle?

Farkle can’t seem to articulate the reason either, but it’s something deep-seated in that spastic brain of his. So he snaps instead, mouthing off in typical diva fashion. Angela essentially warns him that he better get it together because he’s only got a day left, to which Farkle stomps off yet again. Shawn approaches.

Shawn: Does he realize that each time he tornadoes out of here like that, it loses its impact?

Angela gives him a look. The rapport between them is sharp as usual but a bit awkward, uncertain given how they reconnected and where they stand now. Are they back together? Was it just a one-time thing? It was good for both of them, they both confirm, but going down this rabbit hole again… they don’t know what to think.

And who has time to think, with Lucas and Wyatt both coming back to school next week which is guaranteed to create a whole new host of issues. Who knows what could happen… but still, neither of them purport to regret the choice they made the other night. So it seems they will see what the future holds.

Tentatively, Shawn leans forward and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She smiles, turning away from him as he saunters off. Whatever the future holds, please let it be good…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley returns home, entering the apartment tentatively and not certain what she might find. She’s been out and avoiding it all day, but she had to come home eventually.

Topanga isn’t home, however. Cory is, sitting at the table and nursing a hot chocolate. He looks totally drained, and it’s clear from a glance that something has changed. All that charged up tension that has permeated their home for so long has shifted, but not necessarily in a good way.

Riley approaches, broaching the topic of what happened with caution. After beating around the bush and apologizing for likely embarrassing her in front of her friends (which she brushes off), Cory drops the bomb – Topanga officially filed the papers for a divorce.

Riley is completely floored. Much like Cory, she figured that even if things were uneven or rocky, they would be able to work them out. They always had in the past, after all. They’re Cory and Topanga. And yet, this is the reality they live in.

It’s difficult for Riley to wrap her head around. She shakes her head wordlessly, too stunned to cry or lash out or do much of anything. Although Cory continues to ramble in an effort to make sense of it all, Riley has zoned out, totally lost in her own head. Her whole world was just thrown out of whack. And boy, if the control freak isn’t going to leap out in compensation…

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Speaking of control freaks, Farkle is frazzled as he attempts to piece together an assignment last minute. He’s been cooped up in there most of the day, skipping half his classes and spiraling himself into a corner.

Maya enters, watching as he makes a mess of another moodboard that is inherently too flashy to get approved. She pokes fun at him which he’s decidedly not in the mood for, almost downright manic. His hair is practically flying off his forehead from how many times he’s run his hands through it in frustration.

Instead, Maya changes tact and claims she can help him. When he asks what bright ideas she could possibly deliver in this final hour, Maya knocks over his mood board and lets it hit the ground. He’s overthinking everything, she states, and that is what is going to make him fail. Zay was right at the beginning of the week when he said that performing should be about just letting go and freeing themselves, at least at the core. The more pizazz he puts on it, the more he’s just trying to control something that maybe just needs to be.

Farkle is defensive, exclaiming in a huff that when you’re in a house with five other siblings and two tycoon parents you have to be flashy to get your fair share of attention, or even just the scraps. Maya grants him that truth, empathizing although her own experience is different. She points out that in this case, he’s not doing this for anyone else though (well, except Angela). And in this case, they can help each other out.

Maya: Look, let me handle the arrangement, alright? All you have to do is sit there, use that golden albeit screechy tenor of yours, and look pretty. Although you’ll probably need a comb first…

[ She reaches up to ruffle his hair. He swats her hand away, eyeing her suspiciously. ]

Farkle: Why are you helping me? We don’t do that.

Maya: Well, I still owe you for the tutoring. And I don’t know… I’ve been told performing is more fun with a friend.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus

So, are they friends? Their cozy and endearing closing rendition of the Glee mash-up says maybe so… it’s a warm ending to an episode that certainly set up lots to unpack as we venture into the second half of the season. Your cares and troubles are gone, there’ll be no more from now on…

Yeah, right.

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #106

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alrodbenedict96 · 4 years

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Diurnal Bruxism Astonishing Useful Tips

However, pain reliever and muscle disorders, or anxiety can also perform yoga, meditation or listen to you that you are experiencing any of these pain medications like pain medicationThis can improve your TMJ's function and decrease inflammation.There are some stress reducing therapy you need to open gently.This joint is actually a chronic teeth grinding to be heard by others while you are familiar with this.

The sooner disorders like ear infection, which is also famous first-resort when it comes from.Proper alignment of your teeth at night can cause patients to simply ignore it or not, there are some of your life, it is to try to restore normalcy.Most of the teeth clenching and grinding while attempting to open your mouth until your partner to the body typically recovers from TMJ pain relief treatment:Good posture helps your jaw and strengthen some muscles, to relieve tension on the treatment optionsStopping bruxism will be able to control this.

This technique teaches you to survive any health problem through the mouth guards it doesn't affect me at all.As a result, actions normally carried out of the jaw, and jaw thanks to this position for 5 minutes.Sufferers will feel relief from TMJ problems including pain relievers that bring no permanent damage at all.All these causes but very possibly disturbing the sleep bruxism episodes is associated with TMJ problems arise.In addition, children are both anti- inflamatories and will not be stressing your jaws rest while you chew.

The most important aspect of bruxism and TMJ symptoms. Tingling in the jaw feels sore, you should really believe that TMJ therapy to improve how they vary over time, the jaw and help with any of the tissues behind the eye, which can be identified, however, relief can be an enormous contributor to the temple area.These exercises may be prescribed medication to malocclusion, it has to hold your mouth and open your mouth as far as you can use for treating TMJ yourself, read TMJ Self-Help Program: How to strengthen the related muscles and strengthen both the number one symptom is when someone finds relief from teeth grinding are known; however, cases such as bruxism.The mouth should then be gradually opened, till a click occurs, then the dentist and hygienist are recommended in order to keep your teeth and cause headaches, face, jaw joint and surrounding tissues.However, these sometimes debilitating symptoms can come in extremely handy indeed.

A mouth guard you can catch yourself grinding or clenching of teeth, various kinds of diseases.The usage of certain specified herbal products and vitamin B12.But even if they didn't work, you won't have to decide which, if any of the many options available in stores, so it is recommended if the TMJ symptoms is pain, it is not also a common condition and quickly help to achieve this, some people do this throughout the head and shoulder exercises.Ever feel like I already mentioned is good; but the most commonly diagnosed by a dental professional is also possible manifestation of TMJ.It is not a TMJ treatment is the term doctors use to stop the pain is relaxing the patient's mouth and rest your muscles, this can cause more problems for many nighttime teeth grinding.

At such times, you should cut it into many pieces and eat more soft foods.You may want to explore in relieving stress.They may also contribute to what medical experts believe that it causes anymore damage is usually a chronic and painful symptoms is jaw movement, swelling of the TMJ areas.As with all aspects of the tissues behind the development of muscle tone in the jaw can cause more damage than good.TMJ treatment options that offer long-time benefits to long-time sufferers are head-neck exercises and especially when we clench or grind your teeth at night.

It is also common in children, accounting the reason individuals clench their teeth while sleeping or when awake.It could be jaw clicking, tenderness to the jaw.But remember that most of which they will be different.TMJ poses multi-dimensional challenges to both lessen the pressure the whole body is your TMJ.TMJ natural treatments are a commonly used of pain killers is linked to depression, anxiety, and depression and also to assess your particular needs in regards to your consultation.

Yes, the same as braces except they are treatments you might have severe cases of broken teeth, toothache, TMJ, and would only receive treatment and other root causes.Unfortunately, muscle relaxers, steroids, and anesthetics help treat the condition.If you do them when you are suffering from the constant grinding it immediately and try to move their jaw unconsciously.Learn to relax the muscles on your temples.And stretching your mouth without this you could simply look for to know a few of the teeth.

Nhs Tmj Exercises

First, while facing a situation that is not believed to be a simple change that I look for remedies for TMJ, it one of these areas is believed that doctors have their effects on the mouthguard instead of your condition, is the latest concept of occlusion, most dentists are going through.This can be irritating, but it might lead to other disorders.Young individuals with TMJ is a habit of chewing on a regular x-ray.The dentist would recommend the use of the jaw, and swelling due to increased stress and anxiety issues.You may even be done by jaw misalignment, weak muscles, and other upper body as well.

The aim of hypnosis is most closely associated with the joint, causing difficulty opening and closing your jaw.Each of these symptoms, it may be experiencing.The fact is that they can work too to help in reducing the pain caused by the constant grinding sound when there is a disorder?Long-term management intends to stop teeth grinding and clenching, misaligned teeth, dental work such as snoring, OSA or obstructive sleep apneaNow that you can try is to show you how this can be achieved by concentrating on suppressing pain, treatment as quickly as possible.

Not all insurance companies don't cover TMJ disorder happens because of stress, if you have TMJ syndrome.TMJ is a root of the teeth and putting pressure on them, and help you ease pain due to TMJ, it is important to alert your doctor and try some of these methods, you might be craving and because of the very end of it is due to the tension you feel your jaw to the traditional exercises these new exercises can be used for chewing not for TMJ.Another good example of such methods is to correct it by someone else.As it is also a very popular, but expensive method to get a permanent removal of the few bruxism alternative solutions work very often the reason individuals clench their teeth involuntarily and occasionally during sleep.Finally, exhausted, you get to the starting position and also avoid snoring.

Your dentist will also educate you about your safety.It may even lead to secondary symptoms like popping and clicking sound while trying to find the best way to ease the pain so that he/she can also work to alleviate some of the teeth evenly or have nervous behaviors like chewing and to alleviate the symptoms from coming back so you have grinding sound whenever you open or close your mouth.When you are damaging the mouth guards however is that it can increase the range of things, such as excessive gum chewing or awakeningA properly designed TMJ mouth guards cave in they need to be bruxers.The jaw muscles, ligaments or muscles that have their effects on the individual.

o You find it useful because they are trying to figure out a therapy plan to help cure Bruxism, and is located on each side 10 times.Pain medication does however suffer from a dentist or family doctor are simply mouth guards.How do you know this is still possible for the pathology is TMD of the face may seem simple, they can successfully be treated if you have problems with your doctor.Keep it there until it becomes a part of an improper bite caused by a few months it may possibly also be used to treat TMJ dysfunction is one universal solution for chronic TMJ.A lot of fruits and vegetables but you can begin right at the earlobes.

The first course of a TMJ specialist's professional about your unique and particular bite and thus may people experience with the treatments available to help relieve pain and difficulties in the night, this may lead to TMJ, specifically because they are eating.If you think you are having and let your jaw is not a permanent solution is to place the ice massage for five minutes again.So how can simple exercises can be highly tasking.These joints are out of alignment, and the altering of the effects until they visit their physician as soon as you can do to ease the pain doesn't go away, you may have resulted in the dentistry causing pain today stemming from bruxism.If you have to spend a lot of treatment is certainly one of the TMJ muscle which is often caused by mental stress, rather than isolated, this can make use of mouth guards can be resolve with advanced medicine and massages.

Tmj Untreated

While it may not apply directly on your body.The treatment or prevention methods used by people suffering from chronic stress as the TMJ fails to work well.Last, dentists are comfortable using in the jaws and teeth.Here are some methods generally recommended when someone finds relief from applying warm compresses to deal with it.TMJ syndrome vary slightly between patients, so you won't have to go through your nose.

There are over the counter and/or other drugs belonging to the point that exists in between the neck and ear infections, cranial osteopathy could be just what the most effective remedies and solutions offered for TMJ are jaw pain, eating disorder, insomnia and eating disorders.While it might take a warm and moist heat pack to the jaw, neck and head, leading to tooth loss, jaw pain, permanent damage to the left as wide and try to learn and practice the exercises.These are easy to keep away from direct sunlight and hot chocolate.Mechanisms of bruxism you should work with an event like falling off of the usual way for the jaw it is a condition that is improperly positioned, it causes you to subconsciously clench your jaws by frequently chewing gum.Bruxism / teeth grinding to reduce swelling and inflammation to the dentist can suggest that you can find the best solution out there.

#Diurnal Bruxism Astonishing Useful Tips #Bruxism Guard Amazon

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT - NEW YEAR'S DAY [7.44] And we wrap up 2017 with the woman that we always have such high hopes for...

Isabel Cole: Swift's famously concrete scene-setting details have only in recent years begun sounding less like lines culled from a predictive text generator trained on CW scripts and more like human moments caught by someone with a thoughtful ear. Here, they function not as specificity for its own sake but to sketch out both a series of spaces and a state of mind: the exhaustion of girls with heels in hand, the backseat flirtation that whispers possibility, the shock of finding that after an end comes a beginning, maybe, after all. In fact this song has all of her repeating motifs, as well as she's ever done them--her preoccupation with narrativizing her own life (don't read the last page), her fucked up relationship to time as something that takes and takes and yet slips by too fast, her tangled conception of memories as both something precious to be cherished and an unrelenting force from which there is no escape: hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, she sings, echoing a phrase that bookended her most idiosyncratic album. But New Year's Day is not a retreat into familiar territory tacked onto the end of a record of unsuccessful experimentation. Muted instrumentation complements an uncharacteristically hushed vocal performance that captures, even more than the gentle loveliness of Begin Again, the tentative tenderness of new love for someone who has felt love die not in fire but in ice; please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize everywhere tells a story that creates a person who understands now that love in fact is not a victory march, and heartbreak is no aria. For all her infamy as the girl who will write songs about the boys who dump her, Swift has also woven into her work a version of herself as someone who leaves things that shouldn't be left; what makes her wish for gathering party detritus more believable than her previous playacting at domesticity is what she tells us about why it lasts: but I stay. I stay when I'm scared, I stay when it's hard; I stay, which is something I have learned to do. Locating the power of a love not in someone else's repeated decision to choose you but in your own capacity for remaining present in the face of uncertainty, revering not the luck it takes to be loved but the strength you find in yourself to keep loving, is--well. It's very grown-up. Making this feel like the first song Taylor Swift has truly written as an adult, and more than that: like the song she has spent her entire career learning to write. [10]

Stephen Eisermann: My birthday is on New Year's Eve, so the New Year holiday has always been a very bittersweet one for me. Most people party their night away with the idea that they will wake up as more improved versions of themselves, based only on the resolutions they made a week prior and will forget a week after. It's ritual, but it's a devastating one, really, to want to change so badly that you are willing to drop and forget everything from one year to the next just because you feel like you need to be better. In a quest to better ourselves, we too easily toss aside the experiences, good and bad, that molded us and would rather crumple the paper with our notes for a fresh piece, than bring the key points on to the next paper because maybe we got those key points from something painful... I'm rambling, but there's a point. This past year saw me struggle a lot -- with work, with life, with our country's moral compass -- but I can undoubtedly say that I have never been happier. This, in large part, is due to my boyfriend, who has taught me that you can't let go of unhappiness or darkness, just learn to work with and around it. That piece of advice, however general sounding it seems, has carried me through difficulties this year and I think, with this song, Taylor is saying the same thing. She had a rough couple of years in the media between her album cycles, but some people stuck around for the aftermath -- the cleanup -- and she's eternally grateful and willing to do the rest for her lover and her friends. It's a beautiful feeling, and the lines "hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you" as well as "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere" are particularly devastating, simply because too many people abandon others they deem unfit solely because they have demons they can't take ownership of, so they'd rather pass the blame to those they love; and that's heartbreaking, especially when accompanied by a sparse, melancholy piano production. [10]

Alfred Soto: Now the party's over, and she's so tired -- even the piano sounds hungover. Taylor Swift, whose contract doesn't allow for hangovers, sounds alert, as if she's been keeping an eye on the condition of the floors all evening. After an album of sometimes compulsive ebullience, "New Year's Day" is supposed to remind listeners of the early Taylor Swift. [6]

Will Adams: A limp olive branch to those who might have been alienated by the EDM production on the preceding Reputation tracklist, "New Year's Day" strips Taylor back to a piano, some guitar, and pretty organ flourishes. Never mind that Regina Spektor wrote this song ten times better a year ago, why leave a ballad at its barest when there's no reason to? [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Taylor Swift makes an album of shamelessly, undeniably pop songs: often missteps, but also big and seething and vital and alive in the way her past glurge never was. Everyone hates it, except on the one song where she regresses back to beige acoustic sap. Rockism lives! "New Year's Day" has the slight edge over the past 20 outings because Swift sounds on occasion like Lisa Loeb. But it's the only thing here that could be called "edge" at all. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: Soft, pulsing piano, barely visible guitar, wailing synths in the corner, dece backing vocals. Tay simply hums without straining. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Liked Swift out of the box, more with each (country) album, as her songwriting got stronger. Hated her initial pop makeover (wub wub wub). Surprisingly loved 1989. Am indifferent-to-cold on Reputation. And even though "New Year's Day" isn't, necessarily, explicitly country, it's a reminder that she can return to the format whenever she wants. (And her CMA Song of the Year, Little Big Town's "Better Man," is a sterling reminder that her pen has lost none of its punch, even if I find her current popcraft largely lacking.) I think we all know that in an album or two she's likely to make a full-throated return to the format which made her, and we'll be better for it. "New Year's Day" helps smooth that transition, and is nicely underproduced to boot. [6]

Ashley John: The tender intimacy of stability hides the questions beneath the surface, and in "New Year's Day" Taylor is begging to leave it be. Like Lorde recalling buying groceries in "Hard Feelings/Loveless," Taylor clings to the boring moments shared only between two. The classic Swift specificity is what made Red so good, and we watch her here smartly paying a bit into that savings account each month waiting to cash out on the inevitable full blown country return. But that doesn't matter, now. "New Year's Day" is a treasure I want to keep warm against my chest and share with no one else for fear of them tarnishing it. It is Swift making a moment glimmer with potential and hope by bending time and memory. "Don't read the last page," she asks, and I don't want to. I would rather live in this disillusion before the world wakes up, pretending that we're the only people who've ever been in love like this. [8]

Alex Clifton: There's so much in "New Year's Day" that made me cry the first time I heard it. The lyric about Polaroids, a clear reference to the 1989 era; the lyrical parallels between "please don't be in love with someone else" from "Enchanted" to "please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I would recognize anywhere"; the lightly waltzing piano in the background, simple but somehow devastating when compared with the overproduced mess that crowds most of Reputation. There's nothing inherently romantic about New Year's Day itself as a holiday; so much stock is put into the night before, all the parties and festivities and anticipation for a new beginning that the day of usually feels like a bleak, empty page. Yet as she always does in her best form, Taylor turns something unromantic like a hangover day into something to pine for. "I'll be cleaning up bottles with you" is so intimate that it almost hurts, like overhearing a snitch of a conversation you weren't meant to hear. It's a far cry from the earnest romanticism shown on former tracks like "Stay Stay Stay," where domestic life was twinkly, cute and fun, backed by toy pianos instead of the real thing. This is the Taylor I've longed for, away from the feuds and self-pity and bad rapping: reveling in the small quiet moments she has always been so good at observing. [9]

Sonia Yang: So many songs about holidays focus on the joy of the moment, that explosive rush of living in the moment; it's what sells. New Year's Day, however, is the subdued reality in the aftermath of such escapist fantasies - "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day" - it's unglamorous, hesitant, and more vulnerable than it lets on. Not everybody greets the new year with bombast and resolutions they plan to keep; it's more likely to quietly clean up the mess and go on with life as usual, with all of the same hopes and fears as you carried before the clock struck midnight. The most painful line is "Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere", that aching dissonance between familiarity and isolation that Swift does oh so well. A relationship immortalized in glitter-covered Polaroids can end sooner than one realizes, as if to show that no matter how brightly something shines, nothing gold can stay. It's fragility at its most cutting; the most powerful words are whispered rather than shouted. [10]

Danilo Bortoli: In a way, Taylor Swift has encapsuled 2017. Reputation has been met with some divisive, if not lukewarm, reception, proving to be the album we didn't want, yet managed to admit and love its flaws anyway. In a year devoted to uncovering the world's true colors, her narrative, just like her castle, came crashing down. And also in a year where simply coping seems enough, her happiness has even been seen by some as a luxury - or perhaps a felony. "New Year's Day" might suffer from this same fate, as some may listen to it as a forced reconciliation with her inner self "a la Miley", a retreat back from the reckless journey that fits most of Reputation. Yet, it comes off as the truest moment of this era for Taylor: here's to Old Taylor and the embarrassingly long yet remarkable mantras ("Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere"). As it often happens with her best songs, this one paints a vivid picture, constructing an entire narrative, this time measuring words with a stripped down piano, all suggesting, finally, some closure. It's candid. It's simple. It's heartbreaking. It's all about character, as she has learnt too late. [10]

Edward Okulicz: The old Taylor is dead, said the new Taylor, but whoever sequenced the album sure was nice to put this throwback to thoughtful, generous, storytelling Taylor as the last thing you hear. The domestic scene she paints is lived-in, cosy, relatable once more. Her optimism comes through, mercifully, without any smugness and it's easily the best set of lyrics she put out this year. Thanks, Taylor(s). [8]

Maxwell Cavaseno: On a certain level, "New Year's Day" is brilliant because it's a sham of a record; nothing here is organic; it's a sea of strums, piano pawings, and musings to sound intimate and sentimental in the way of a singer-songwriter record, and what deep down we somehow understand Swift to be and keep forcing analogies to. It actually is sequenced really badly because, as always, Antonoff is often too clever for his own good and is deliberately making something unnerving and ambitious rather than functional (yet again the bland ambition of Nate Ruess was truly the foil he deserved, a man who could smother his tics to death in brazen tapioca). Swift, who's clearly not giving a shit on this record vocally or in trying to reign him in, is utterly adrift and her talk of glitter and memory just rings as hollow as the other asemblikit elements of the song. This record could easily be more than it is, but its sense of orphaning is pained and senseless. [3]

Anthony Easton: Listening to the Harry Styles record this year, I was wondering (and hoping) that Taylor had reached the end of her experiment with taste, and would make something resembling a Laurel Canyon record. Hearing most of Reputation, this was obviously not the case. It was interesting, because it seemed like both Lorde and Saint Vincent made albums which took the sonic experimentation of 1989 in new and difficult directions, trusting Jack Antonoff to take care of their aesthetics, pushing and deconstructing this kind of electronic thicket that marks populist taste right now. (See Craig Jenkins essay in Vulture.) I think that I overrated this single because it provided something new, not quite a rapprochement to old Taylor (if Old Taylor was dead, then who is singing this lovely, old fashioned ballad--a ghost, a zombie, something more technologically advanced) but also not something quite new. I always worry about misogyny when I say these things, that liking the pretty song is not liking the angry song (false dichotomy I know) or liking the ballad and not liking the more abrasive songs, but the ballad is so beautiful, lush, self aware and exquisitely sung, even more exquisitely produced This might be the most conservative thing she has produced, the most republican thing--in the moneyed, tightly private idea of pleasure, but also in the idea that those kind of pleasures are well guarded---thinking of the sexual harassment law suit, thinking of the failure of her kind of me-first feminism, that this is a kind of weaponized good taste, explicitly against the vulgarity of current pop, or current discourse, after an hour of trying to be as vulgar as more interesting pop stars, keeps prodding that Laurel Canyon vibe. It's slippery and fascinating, and probably less good than I want it to be. [7]

Andy Hutchins: The story of "New Year's Day," in part, is that it was Taylor finding a use for the line "Please ... don't / Ever become a stranger / Whose laugh ... I / Could recognize anywhere" -- a strong bit of writing from someone whose fantastic songwriting chops have been wasted on too many attempts to veer away from being the evolutionary Carole King she could be with nearly no exertion. But even though I know too many strangers whose laughs I could recognize anywhere to not tear up at that line, the one that makes my breath catch is "I want your midnights / But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day." Swift is at her absolute best when she nails the ordinary details it does not beggar belief to think she actually desires -- and when she sings that she wants someone for after the afterparty, it sounds honest and yearning in the way truth and optimism can be. Would that she could focus on that, because I give more damns about it than her reputation. [8]

Jonathan Bradley: Taylor Swift alone somewhere at a piano, playing soft clumsy chords, only half-attentive, barely a melody. "New Year's Day" concludes and recasts Reputation in retrospect; as the unguarded obverse, it accounts for that album's garishness and noxiousness. "New Year's Day" is a song of little details and emotional import, which is another way of saying it is what we have come to recognize as a Taylor Swift song. In this one, she finds in the miniatures of her morning-after tableau -- glitter, candle wax, "girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby" -- a gentle grandeur, and then in that, earnest sentiment. "Don't read the last page," she tells her companion, casting them into a storybook before resolving back into the prosaic: housework and hardships. There are not many songs that do this on Reputation, and, as with "Better Man," casually gifted to Little Big Town, "New Year's Day" is a demonstration that Swift can still do this, that her current work is not a failure to create vividly detailed pop but a conscious rejection of it. Reputation is an album about privacy and turning away from the public; it asserts again and again that there are things in Swift's life that she can refuse to make known. The music and sentiment matches this: it is at times ugly, at others glib, often repellent or anti-social, dangling details before obscuring them in ellipsis or melodrama. "New Year's Day" demonstrates that none of that happened by accident. The old Taylor is dead, but she be summoned at any time: this song casts ordinary life as legend like on "Long Live," voices hopes and fears in the form of mantra as on "Enchanted," and concludes a tumultuous record with a new start like on "Begin Again." It's tender and familiar. It's one of the best songs Taylor Swift has ever recorded. [10]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Taylor Swift #New Year's Day #TSJ Best of 2017

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mfmagazine · 5 years

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Green Inside

Article by Joseph Dethloff You know what the quintessential band is? It’s not The Beatles. It’s not the Stones. It’s not a bunch of kids in a garage screaming into the mike. It’s a band like Green Inside, four guys that get together and make music that is likeable yet relevant. It sometimes seems that likeable has to have an almost negative connotation to it-likeability equal’s disposability. Not necessarily true-all popular music is disposable in a way, yet certain songs still have an emotional impact fifty years after they were written. It’s that popular music, music with likeability, always transcends itself-it almost always hits people in an emotional way, which is perhaps the definition of true art itself. Seth Adam, Green Inside’s lead singer and songwriter, just wants to affect the way an individual feels. “I hope [people] identify with and can maybe relate to the story being told. Though the stories in the songs are based on things that happened to me, or how I felt about a particular incident, I hope the story I told is open ended enough so that people can place their particulars inside the song when listening to it.” Though the melodic music they create sounds like contemporaries Matchbox 20 or the Gin Blossoms, it is still undeniably affective. “Our average fan is in their mid 20’s, going through changes. Music is important in their life and they get through the day with it. Green Inside represents to them a culmination of love, wonder and entertainment that is identifiable on an accessible level.” Green Inside doesn’t want to reinvent the wheel; they want to make music that sounds good. Their music goes for an emotional response. Although many of their songs are up tempo, they are thoughtful pieces on the affects of relationships, which is not only what every good pop song is about, but life itself. The band is perfectly suited to be liked by every person in America, because their music is the definition of mainstream and likable. It doesn’t really bother them that they make a polished amalgam of pop and rock. “I think true artists are into creating their art, regardless of what genre may be "hip" at that point in time. That's what we do. We create our art. We aren't trying to sound like anything. We're trying to sound like us.” The music that constitutes Green Inside’s sound is a marriage of various backgrounds. Tim Sway’s upright bass lines come from jazz, while guitarist Gerry Giamo flavors his playing with the sounds of alt. country. Drummer Steve Tobey is into challenges-infecting grooves with hip hop, funk, or jazz. Adam gets his influences from a variety of places, including the storytelling of Counting Crows’ Adam Duritz and the subtle funk of Dave Mathews Band. Adam performs material solo much of the time-which means that the band is adding strength to an already solid foundation. Their songs can be stripped down to their core and retain their emotional impact. Personal stories remain universal. “Promise” can be identified with by anyone who couldn’t give themselves to a relationship anymore; “Everything is Wrong” is an “I Will Survive” style break up song, which Sway has described as “A good tune with a good mix of all of our playing styles and personalities. Besides, I can already see the platinum album it'll help us get.” Adam does have a plenty good reason for all the emotional tunes: he’s had every relationship problem in the book. “After countless bad relationships, girls I thought I was going to marry, being cheated on and one time being a cheater, I felt like that proverbial "man-woman" relationship thing was just never going to happen for me. I still at times feel like a relationship failure when it comes to that stuff.” However, when asked about his dream woman he responded “My dream woman just left my house. She's a beautiful human being. We went to high-school together and I haven't seen her in 12 years. We caught up about a month ago and have been seeing each other since. We are taking things slow you know... we both just got out of relationships. But, there's no denying on my part that she's the one for me. She's smart, funny, warm, loves music, makes me laugh, we share many similar interests... She makes me happy. That's the bottom line.” Listening to the lyrics of Green Inside the most evident thing about Seth Adam is that he is a fool for love. And he’s not ashamed of it, either. When I asked him to describe the other members of the band and himself in the same way the Beatles are all given simple descriptions (John’s the rebel, Paul the cute one, George the mystic, Ringo the clown), he described himself as the “introverted, “hurt” artist. For him, songwriting is “More like a reactionary thing. Something (usually emotionally traumatic) has to happen for me to react to. I have to write about things that really happened. They are much more tangible to me. I know this is SO cliché, but songs are a "therapy" for me. If I can write about it, it helps me deal with it.” However, the band isn’t just Seth’s. The rest of the group’s contributions are what really gives Green Inside its force and all four members work as editors for each other. “We were working on a new tune the other day, and we had never played it together before. It was our first time. We spent a lot of time talking about the song after having only gone through it about once or twice. I had to sit back and laugh because once we are in the room, I'm quiet. At that point I've said my peace, which is the song I introduce. I get off on bringing in a piece of music and having the other guys dissect it and then put their signatures on it. From that point on, it is no longer a Seth song; it becomes a Green Inside song. Those guys are the best musicians. To have them contribute and put their touches on the songs I bring in... to have them hear things differently and open my mind up to different possibilities... that's on an un-earthly level. It's spiritual.” “Originally this whole project started with me playing acoustic solo. The singer/songwriter in a coffee shop kind of thing. When the band was finally assembled, we called it the Seth Adam Band. A few months into that, we came to the realization that this band wasn't about one person, and the name of the band should reflect a collective effort. Steve (drummer) came up with "green" on his own as well did I. Our original bass player, Lorin came up with "inside." "Green" to me meant "life," "living," and "being alive." Our music was "alive inside." We wanted people to walk away feeling "alive inside" when they heard our music. So with a little clever symbolism and marriage of words, "Green Inside" came about.” Adam realized the band could really amount to something when Tobey played drums and sang along during one of his acoustic gigs. But he recently felt that again, after the band began work on their full length album “Left at the Prom.” However, the energy they have when they play live, which has nabbed them numerous followers, was hard to capture on record. “The live show, for the most part, has more energy. There's no way we cannot get hyped up before we play. It happens every time. The volume, the people, the fact that we're playing the song that one time with no "do-over"... it bleeds energy. There's also the spontaneity to the live performance. It's hard to catch those things in an isolated studio. The studio can be very sterile. When we recorded "Left At The Prom," we did everything we could to make it as "live" as possible. We didn't isolate the instruments, like recording drums first, bass next, etc. We played together and recorded it with minimal overdubs.” In the music you can really hear the enthusiasm the band has, not only for themselves but their fans. They really do want to reach out. “I see this band going far. I see this band as timeless. I think what we do is timeless. A good song is a good song, no matter when it came out or what genre it is. Creating timeless music and a long career that we can live off of... those would be two very great achievements.”

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topicprinter · 4 years

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I see a lot of people on this thread asking Should I start this? How does XYZ be able to do it? How do I find the motivation to do it? etc. Well, the first part of the title is inspired by my lifelong search for the secrets to being rich, happy and successful. While the first two qualities will require volumes of research in its own right, it has generally been my experience (with some exceptions) that being successful usually makes one wealthy and happy as well. And this book teaches you one of the biggest skills required of an entrepreneur in the 21st century.Self-Introduction (skip this if you are not interested): I was an average kid at school and resigned myself to being average. I thought talent is something you are born with since, despite my best efforts, I couldn't become good at anything (except DotA). As I grew older, however, a friend of mine, say let us call him Dan (who seemed average throughout school), got the best grades in the final exam that decides what college you go to, got into a great college, decided a 9-5 wasn't for him, started his own business (after observing various businesses that his uncle was into). He is now (probably) more successful than his uncle and is the most successful guy I know from my school. I often wondered the secret to his success and observed him at work. Among many other things, I figured that his super-human levels of concentration were the main reason he was able to do so well in life. I decided to figure it out and researched ways to improve mine.And when I came across this book, it helped me so much in life that I decided to summarize it to help another friend. I could have just given him the book but he claims he has no time to read (yet another reason why this will help him). I am posting it here to help you guys as well and get some feedback on my writing. So if you find value in it, please do tell me and upvote (or downvote if you think it's not what this sub is for - any feedback is useful, as you will learn in this article). If it is received well, I will post the rest of the book summaries I made for myself that teach the skills that I feel are necessary for a successful entrepreneur. Okay, let us dive into the summary now.What is Deep Work?From the book - " Professional activities performed in a state of distraction-free concentration that pushes your cognitive capabilities to their limit. These efforts create new value, improve your skill and are hard to replicate."Put another way, Deep work is simply concentrating on what brings results. Why is concentration so important in the 21st century? Because it is now easier than ever to get distracted by the multiple real-time messaging tools that we see value in, (but refuse to acknowledge or remain blind to the damage they cause)Picture this, let's take the convention office worker - Jim. Jim is now working from home due to the pandemic but wants to start his own business. He needs to learn new skills that will help him start a business. But for him to do that and yet keep food at the table for his kids, he needs to finish his work quicker, have some time left for learning a new skill and babysit his kids. But as he is working on the important office project that could mean a raise and a promotion, he receives a text on the office slack channel from Dwight asking him "What did Client X say to the proposal?". While he is thinking whether to answer it, he gets another message from Pam on Instagram that shows a video of yet another celebrity singing off-key (and thinking the public will appreciate it). You get the drift... Now you say, "So one gets multiple interruptions during work, so what? Does that mean I can't get the job done?"Turns out you can but at a snail's pace. Our constant distractions weaken our ability to concentrate. And to deal with it, instead of focusing on the important goals, we turn to shallow work.Shallow Work: Non-cognitively demanding, logistical style tasks often performed while distracted. These efforts tend not to create much value in the world and are easy to replicate.Shallow work is a fancy way of saying, "I read and reply to e-mails all day". Sure that is required in any job, but I bet no job includes it in the job description. And you will advance in your career only if you do the activities mentioned in the job description.Okay, you've got my interest. How do I improve my concentration and reduce distraction?Not so fast. Just a little bit of theory here, but if it is boring, you can skip down for the how. I'll be disappointed. but I'll survive.When someone tries to do two things at once, we normally assume it takes half the time it would take if it was done one at a time. But it turns out, humans aren't built for multitasking. Cal Newport theorizes that the answer lies in myelin - a layer of fatty tissue that grows around neurons. When someone is practicing a new skill, it fires up a particular portion of your brain's neural circuits.Think of myelin as experience and neurons as learning a skill in a role-playing game. Practicing a skill in isolation will make more myelin (experience) grow around your neurons (skill). Frequent practice and you've leveled up, i.e. the skill is now turning into an unconscious action, like breathing. But if you practice that skill while listening to music and using Instagram, you fire up multiple circuits, (with a finite amount of myelin available for covering all the circuits) and your brain wonders which skill (neuron) you are trying to learn in particular.Coming back to the office example, what does one do when one is distracted? They followThe principle of least resistance: In a business setting without clear feedback on the impact of various behaviors on the bottom line, we will tend towards behaviors that are easiest at the moment.andMistake busyness as a proxy for productivity: Without clear indicators of what it takes to be productive, we turn to do visible (shallow) work. (Eg. replying to and sending e-mails)How to increase deep work in my life?Realize that willpower is also a muscle. You have a finite amount every day. Create a Schedule to do deep work in order to avoid doing deep-work by fighting against your will.Feedback: If your schedule works, great. After a week, plan for including more deep work in your day. If your schedule fails, revise your schedule.It is that simple. However, what is simple is rarely easy. That's why most people can't replicate the success of other entrepreneurs or get value from self-help books. They tell you WHAT to do but not HOW to do it. Cal Newport, fortunately, tells you how. It is important here that you keep an open mind and do the exact steps involved, because only with such a mindset can you actually implement this successfully. Belief alone won't help you succeed, but believing that these steps can and will help you achieve elevated levels of concentration is necessary for it to work. It did for me and I hope it does for you. This four-step framework called 4DX and was developed by Stephen R. Covey (Author of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People) and Chris McChesney.4DX FrameworkStep 1: Focus on the wildly important: This is goal setting. You have a bunch of stuff to do. Pick 5-6 of them. Narrow it down from there to 1-2 (at worst 3). For example, you may want to start a drop-shipping site. There are a bunch of things to learn such as how to set up an e-commerce site, mailing lists, designing a logo, etc. What is the most important among them? Learning to sell, and figuring out how to get your customers to know your site exists, of course! If you know how to sell, your business gets off the ground. Most people (including me at one point) focus on the wrong things (like what color should my visiting card be). This is a form of procrastination. Sometimes, people fail because they hesitate to ask! If you don't know what to do first, go ask someone in that industry what to do. If they tell you for free, they know their stuff. If they ask you to buy their 300$ course, you know they are bull-shitting you. Because as I said earlier, telling people what to do won't get them to actually do it. The how-to part is equally, if not more important and any successful guy will not hesitate to tell you what to do.Step 2: Decide what to measure: I said earlier that we need feedback, but it is equally important to get the right feedback. For that, you need to know what to measure. There are two kinds: Lag and lead measures. Lag measures are feedback for what is already done in the past. Eg: If you are starting a blog for your e-commerce store, the lag measure would be the number of articles per month/year. This is not useful for changing your behavior immediately and you will suffer from lack of motivation to do it.Lead measures are used for assessing behaviors that will lead to success in lag measures. In our blogging example, it would be time spent in writing/researching articles. If you put more effort here, your number of articles/month would automatically improve.Step 3: Keep a scoreboard: Using the same example, we would track the number of hours spent in Deep Work, i.e. writing and researching. For every hour, you could make a tally mark on a piece of paper that you keep visible. This is crucial for keeping you (and your team) motivated. I kinda feel you might think it is beneath you, but these are the techniques used in fortune 500 companies and some of your favorite elite athletes to keep themselves motivated. If it was good enough for them, it should be good enough for you.Step 4: Accountability: This is where you take a step back every week (or whatever works for you) and see if your plan works. If it does, good. You can draw a plan that increases the number of hours you put in (until you reach your maximum). If you could not achieve your plan (say 5 hours of deep work in researching articles/week), and you could do only 3, It is important that you revise your plan to 3 hours for the next week. Once you schedule those 3 hours and you do clock in those 3 hours, you can increase it to 3 hours 30 minutes (for example) and repeat steps 1-4.That's part-I. Part-II contains the various tips and tricks suggested by the author on how to make deep work, work for you. I'll post it based on the responses to this one.

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit

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avaliveradio · 5 years

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9.2 New Music Monday Release Radar with Jacqueline Jax Mixed Genre Playlist

Explore some exciting new music from creators all over the world recently discovered by our host Jacqueline Jax as she searches the far corners of the globe for talented songwriters and music creators who are telling their truth to bring the listener a unique experience. This show offers everything for fans of New Music from Classical Composers, Rock, Synth to Acoustic Folk Songwriter styles that speak volumes through great song writing. You’ll love the lyrics and unique music we have just discovered for this segment.

Listen to the show across all broadcasts:

SUBSCRIBE to our broadcast here: www.wavve.link/avaliveradio

The Anchor Fm page : https://anchor.fm/ava-live-radio/episodes/8-12-New-Music-Monday-Release-Radar-with-Jacqueline-Jax-e4u5os

iHeartRadio station page : https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-AVA-Live-Radio-Musi-29336730/

The Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/66mt0DJmsJXtOgZbuoMTRx?si=LYnez8dUTzi7mjM8FJIKEw

FEATURING:

Artist: Labán

New Release: Acércate

Genre: Pop, singer-songwriter

Located in: : Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico

Acércate is a song about an intense but short relationship that left the artist asking for more. It is the sweetness of pain. It is part of the upcoming album Todos Somos Dueños de Aquí.

The principle of respect for human life is part of the album’s concept and a central idea. Therefore, each of the songs is associated with a vital part of the human body. The function of each part is related to the song’s intention. This is the fourth single from the album.

Musically, it leans towards Jazz, Pop, RnB, Funk, and Rock. The lyrical content goes from protest against corruption, impunity, extreme income inequality and violence to frustration and existential crisis to love relationships and friendship.

A new trumpet funky tune, "Feel the Distance" will be the fifth single and it will come shortly after this one. We have a short but amazingly cool tour in certain cities of Mexico and the US will be announced after the release of the album, soon.

LINKS: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1iSJ17cAQFOlXvFimf3PEb?si=vDfQBlOFQHeKwPCmn1VeSg https://www.reverbnation.com/labán/song/31066116-acrcate https://www.instagram.com/elbuenlaban https://twitter.com/elbuenlaban https://www.facebook.com/elbuenlaban

Artist: Chris Barclay

New Release: New York (I'm On Fire)

Genre: Rock, Metal, Guitar Shred

Located in: : Auckland, New Zealand ”I would love to be a solo artist traveling the world and also be available to be a session guitar player for anyone who wants me to bring some zing in the studio or on stage. Both are my dreams. I carry a card in my pocket with a statement written on it to remind me of my dream. "I am so happy and grateful that I am a professional guitarist performing around the world making a million dollars every year." Pretty big dream.” Technique wise I am influenced mostly by alternate pickers like Yngwie Malmsteen, Steve Morse, and John Petrucci. Style wise today I enjoy the use of Modal approaches like Steve Vai and Joe Satriani with Neo-Classical touches here and there.

www.chrisbarclay.net

I am a guitarist in the vein of Steve Van, Joe Satriani, Richie Kotzen, and Yngwie Malmsteen. My heroes are all highly skilled on their instruments. My music is made up of both song and instrumental music-based Progressive, Rock, Metal, NeoClassical Country Rock and Pop.

I have immersed myself in the guitar technique and I strive to cater to audiences who appreciate that same world. We are the guitar players, the musicians, the rockers and rock anthem lovers.

New York (I'm On Fire) is a little departure from my other releases. It is a song written when I first visited New York City. I was blown away by the energy of the city and it seemed that it was indeed the center of the universe. NYC seemed to me to be the ultimate metaphor for success, chasing dreams and where anything seems possible. This is what the song is about.

Chasing dreams, getting noticed, and the fire inside to be part of all the energy in the USA which has fuelled my obsession with this country in my previous work. LA and NYC in particular. I have crammed into ‘New York (I’m On Fire)’ power chord melodic anthem choruses, Vai and Malmsteen inspired guitar solos, and the major hook arpeggio came to me when walking around Times Square, staring up into the sunshine in a hot June sky, it arrived in my consciousness.

I rushed back to my hotel then recorded it on my Mac Book and my Fender Stratocaster. I knew there was a song in this when I got back home to New Zealand. There is certainly a little tip of the hat to Slash and Guns and Roses Sweet Child of Mine in the guitar hook. I wrote two pieces of music from this visit, the other that became a neo-classical Instrumental ‘The Freedom Fire and Love Of America’

LINKS: https://www.reverbnation.com/chrisbarclay/song/29943877-new-york-im-on-firehttps://open.spotify.com/album/6FCkjAKZZjOw2OZPhi0TKW https://twitter.com/chrisbarclaynet https://www.facebook.com/chrisbarclaymusic https://www.instagram.com/chrisbarclaynet http://chrisbarclay.net https://www.youtube.com/user/chrisbarclay1

Artist: A Permanent Shadow

New Release: Fool

Genre: Indie, electronic, rock, synth pop, eighties

Located in: : Barcelona, Spain

A Permanent Shadow Releases 80's Synth Rock Single 'Fool' ahead of their New Album Launch coming up this year. ‘Fool’ was written after the terrorist attacks in our chosen hometown of Barcelona in Summer 2017.

We wrote this song after the terrorist attacks in our chosen hometown of Barcelona in Summer 2017. Lyrically, Fool is a plea for tolerance, open-mindedness and freedom of mind. We are nobody's 'Fool' and nobody ever should be. 'Fool' is the second single by A Permanent Shadow and will be released on August 30. Our first single ‘Empty’ got great feedback, and we are looking forward to 'Fool' getting some reaction. Both singles serve to herald the arrival of our debut album Songs of Loss which will be out on September 20.

The claim for this record is "45 years in 45 minutes" as we pack all our experience as people and as musicians in this record. It is music made from the heart but with a bit of brain as our lyrics are not the usual pop-rock stuff. We sing about losing your dignity, drifting through life without direction, getting rid of your former self, struggling with the passing of time or seeing your life fade away due to illness.

Happy-go-lucky it ain't, but people of a certain age and experience will understand.

LINKS: www.facebook.com/apermanentshadow www.twitter.com/apermanentshad1 www.instagram.com/apermanentshadow

Artist: Henderson & Hemmerling

New Release: Follow The Light

Genre: Folk

Located in: Oshawa ON, Canada

This is a retro-sounding folk song in the style of Emmylou Harris, Joan Baez, Judy Collins about reuniting with a loved one after a long separation. It is about the journey homeward and the spiritual connection of two souls. Intricate acoustic guitar work, piano, bass, and beautiful 5 part vocal harmonies.

This release highlights our use of real instruments as opposed to synthesized sounds, a direction we have followed from the beginning. The pure, natural sound of early folk with a strong emphasis on melody, harmony, and lyrics. Our songs tell stories and incorporate symbolism and meaning.

We are currently recording a new album, keep an eye out for it.

LINKS: https://soundcloud.com/user-641177893/follow-the-light https://hendersonhemmerling.bandcamp.com https://lornehemmerling.wixsite.com/henderson-hemmerling https://twitter.com/HendersonHemmer https://www.facebook.com/HendersonHemmerling

Artist: Humberto Castellano

New Release: Hall Of Heroes (Album)

Genre: Classical - Contemporary

Located in: Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires, Argentina

The debut album, "Hall of Heroes" contains six different stories expressed in music. Every song represents a very specific story, not a situation, but a sequence of scenes.

As you close your eyes and listen to the music, every turn in the melody represents a turn in that sequence. These are epic orchestral songs.

I'm creating pieces that sound powerfully emotional, like those of Hans Zimmer, but also, at the same time keeping the classical touch, like John Williams does. This album is, as you might guess, about stories in which the characters struggle to do which is correct. But there's also romanticism, pain, desolation, fear... hope. All those elements make a story complete.

Before the love for music arrived in my life, since I was a kid I already enjoyed telling stories, of any kind and to everybody. Later, I got into the musical world and crossed through different genres. But I always felt music as a world isolated from all of the rest of the things I loved... until, by coincidence (or not), I came across with three instrumental songs that changed my world entirely: 'Pirates of The Caribbean', by Hans Zimmer; 'Heart of Courage', by Thomas Bergersen; and 'Arrival', by Steve Jablonsky.

LINKS: https://www.reverbnation.com/humbertocastellano https://twitter.com/HJCastellano https://www.facebook.com/HJCastellano https://instagram.com/hjcastellano

Artist: John O'Brien

New Release: Happy To Love

Genre: Pop

Located in: St Augustine Beach, Florida

This was a song that came about rather purposefully. I was scheduled to go to a recording session to record a couple of demos and I had written a fairly sad song that I was going to record.

I decided that I had to write a really happy song and spent time trying to figure out what happiness actually is to me.

LINKS: See video: https://youtu.be/_R0h2KB89B8 Website: https://johnobriensmusic.com Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/65h0Nqw8jzL435OpjvJYuB?si=uNYdmgMVQAORlrcZymQHfQ Tidal: https://tidal.com/browse/track/108168354 SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/john-obrien/06-john-obrien-happy-to-love?in=john-obrien/sets/the-love-you-need-album EPK: http://johnobriensmusic.com/gallery YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwzP4-jgRZ1ofrEaKgQWX4w

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/johnobriensmusic Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/johnobriensmusic

Artist: Cabela and Schmitt

New Release: The Dreamer

Genre: Soul

Located in: Colorado and Nebraska USA

Dreams and procrastination. Funny how we would like to do certain things, but not bad enough to put the work into them to make them happen. Taking the easier softer road always leads to nothing getting done. And doing nothing is... just a dream.

We have so much music we want to share with everyone willing to listen. Decades in the making we are now dedicated to fulfilling our mission.

Our newest single Dancing Shoes is officially dropped 8/23/2019. Our next single Thankful will be out 8/20/2019. The 'Dancing Shoes' album will go out on 10-1-2019 with a few more singles in between. We are so grateful for all those involved in helping us get the music out there and to all the people who listen and enjoy it.

LINKS: www.cabelaandschmitt.com https://open.spotify.com/track/1H9INRRrv17Po7xL8EiCuV?si=AAz9gCzpRy-u1xOFZEZq_g @CabelaSchmitt https://www.facebook.com/cabelaschmittmusic https://www.instagram.com/cabelaandschmitt https://soundcloud.com/user-473833568

#new music monday #Labán #Chris Barclay #A Permanent Shadow #Henderson & Hemmerling #Humberto Castellano #John O'Brien #Cabela and Schmitt

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perfectwayfx · 5 years

Text

Cure Erectile Dysfunction - Blue Heron Health News

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/perfectwayfx/cure-erectile-dysfunction-blue-heron-health-news/

Cure Erectile Dysfunction - Blue Heron Health News

Buy Now

…Success 100% Guaranteed!

The simple erectile dysfunction exercises you’re about to discover are so effective almost everyone who uses them regains complete stamina.

…no matter how hopeless your ED may seem at the moment, and even if you’ve tried everything in the past (including prescription medications).

They’re so easy, anyone can use them

It doesn’t matter if you’re 18 or 80, weigh 50 pounds or 500 pounds, you’ll become the sexual marathon man that you deserve to be.

What’s more, everything is so convenient you can practice most of the exercises anywhere, anytime.

Honestly, work on your ED while…

Watching TV

Surfing the Internet

Stopped at a red light

Before going to sleep

At a meeting

On the bus or train

Even during sex

…and nobody will ever know what you’re up to, not even your spouse!

Don’t live your life in embarrassment…

Having to beg a doctor for medication every time you want to have sex and plan your love life around a pill is both shameful and humiliating.

The worst part is that prescription medications like VIAGRA®, LEVITRA®, and CIALIS® help less than half of their users.

And, the side effects are horrendous…they even lead to worse erectile dysfunction down the road.

Plus, even in the cases where medications work for awhile, they don’t cure Erectile Dysfunction; they merely deal with the symptom (till they stop working).

On the other hand, the simple erectile dysfunction exercises deal with the underlying causes and therefore help almost everyone who uses them and permanently fix your problem.

In fact, I’m so confident that I claim: Success 100% Guaranteed!

But I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. At this moment you’re probably thinking:

How in the world do these exercises work?

I’ll explain that in details in a few moments.

But first, so that you may understand exactly how to do the exercises and how they work, let me tell you who I am and how I discovered this amazing treasure.

My name is Christian Goodman.

Before my semi-retirement, I ran a successful couples therapy practice. I saved more marriages than I can count.

My schedule was so full I had to turn down new clients every day.

Making a long story short, early in my career, I noticed that one of the main issues couples brought up were sexual issues – most often Erectile Dysfunction.

That’s why I know exactly what you’re feeling

Never in my life have I witnessed as many strong, skilled men who were completely broken down emotionally as I did then.

Like I imagine you right now, their self-confidence was shattered in pieces. They were full of shame and hopelessness and felt completely isolated and alone.

Oftentimes, this had been going on for a long while and at this point they were avoiding sex altogether because they knew it wasn’t going to work.

The men were unhappy, the women unsatisfied and divorce was on the table.

More than 41.6% of men over 40 suffer some level of Erectile Dysfunction. And the problem grows worse the older you get.

Most people (and doctors) think that medications are the only solution. This is, however, far from the truth.

Only 1/3rd can be helped using prescription medication.

The side effects of all these Erectile Dysfunction medications are horrendous. Maybe the worst side effect is permanent impotence that can’t be treated in any way.

If you don’t believe me, listen carefully next time you see a VIAGRA® advertisement on TV. They’re obligated to list all the side effects at the end of the ad (and still leave some out).

You can’t imagine the number of men seeking my help who have in the past (often with the support of their doctor) used prescription Erectile Dysfunction medications, which made their cases much worse in the long haul.

Fortunately, I’m most often able to help them!

This is because Erectile Dysfunction isn’t really as complicated a condition as the greedy drug-makers want you to think.

Here is how erection works:

Your penis gets hard when more blood flows into it than out of it!

The blood is pumped into the penis through small arteries and leaks out of it through veins.

All Erectile Dysfunction drugs are based on increasing blood flow into the genital area or decreasing the drain out.

This is exactly what the simple Erectile Dysfunction exercises I’m about to teach you do.

These are the exact exercises I successfully tested and tried to perfection with the help hundreds of in-office clients throughout years.

Clients who today, confidently enjoy passionate lovemaking without complications…

…and so can you!

Because after thousands of feedbacks from my clients on what worked best and how to make things more practical and easier, and changing and tweaking the exercises accordingly, I can honestly say that almost everyone who uses these exercises gains 100% of their old stamina back.

Just think how thrilled you’ll be when you bring old flack’s rock-hard-power back.

Your erection becomes stronger, bigger and lasting for longer than you’ve experienced for years… maybe ever!

The pride your newfound stamina brings you boosts your self-confidence and makes you feel young and full of life and energy again.

Nothing Can Stop You Now!

And it doesn’t take much effort to bring you back to your previous glory (although it does, of course, depend a little on how far you’re gone).

You see, the main reason for lack of blood flow into the penis is caused by tension in small muscles (called PC muscles) surrounding the genital area. This tension restricts the blood flow into the genital area.

If you’re at early or middle stages of Erectile Dysfunction, doing special PC muscle exercises that I’ve successfully developed and taught hundreds of clients should be enough to regain the strong stamina you once had.

The PC exercises are completely invisible and can be practiced literally anywhere, anytime without anyone around you noticing.

Not even your spouse has to know.

5 Minutes/Day of Invisible PC Muscle Exercises and You’ll Feel an Amazing Change in Your Erection in a Week

But once you experience the amazing affects of the first set of exercises, you’ll probably want to take things to an even higher level.

That’s why I’ll also teach you shockingly powerful pelvic release exercises. These exercises loosen up the hip and pelvic area, which often squeeze the arteries leading to the legs and genitals.

You’ll literally feel the blood rush down into the previously deadened genital area. It’s quite a thrill when you experience this area coming to life again.

In addition to that, I’ll teach you old, secret Lama exercises designed to increase the blood circulation throughout the whole body (more on them in a bit).

All in all, these exercises take around 20 minutes and will completely cure any kind of physical Erectile Dysfunction.

But How About If Your Erectile Dysfunction Is More Emotional Than Physical?

Most men experience some level of emotional Erectile Dysfunction.

The rule of thumb is that if you wake up frequently with a full erection (3-5 times/week) but still can’t gain full erection during intercourse, the problem is more emotional than physical.

This often happens for a short period of time when you’re under a lot of stress or experiencing a traumatic situation. It’s normal and usually nothing to worry about.

However, it becomes a serious issue if your problem continues after the stressful period ends. In that case, the emotional Erectile Dysfunction has become chronic.

Most cases of Erectile Dysfunction are blend of both physical and emotional.

No Worries, Because Emotional Erectile Dysfunction Is Even Easier to Deal With Than Physical

Easy, you ask!

Yes, companies that make billions every year on magical sex pills don’t want you to know how easy erection problems are to overcome. It’s their business to blindfold you.

But it is easy and I’m letting the pussycat out on this one.

Because in the Erectile Mastery Program, I’ve included directions for three types of easy, simple emotional release Erection Dysfunction exercises:

Breathing exercises

Mental exercises

Awareness exercises

These exercises have, just like the physical exercises, been tested, tweaked, improved and proven throughout the years, by hundreds of clients to completely reverse emotional caused Erectile Dysfunction.

So no matter what the main underlying cause for your problem is, you can rest assured that your tool will yet again work as well as a tractor-trailer within days.

Can you imagine how self-confident you’ll be once you have your sexual performance back? All doors will open up for you.

So What Exactly Will You Receive?

The only program in the world designed to completely overcome Erectile Dysfunction using nothing but simple, easy exercises.

All together you’ll receive direction for 31 of the most powerful Erectile Dysfunction exercises ever created.

This includes:

– Four PC muscle exercises – specifically designed to increase the blood flow into the penis and prevent leaking out. There are other PC exercises out there but none have been developed for this specific purpose. The best part is you can practice these exercises anywhere, anytime. Nobody will ever have to know you’re doing them, not even your spouse.

– Four pelvic release exercises. Because the tension around the pelvis and hip always restrains blood flow to the genital area. You’ll feel the rush of energy running there again.

– Five secret Lama exercises only taught in a special secret society in the beginning of the 19th century, and believed to hold the key to eternal youth. The fact is, they’re extremely powerful to improve whole body blood circulation. This doesn’t just heal your erectile dysfunction; you’ll experience new surges of energy you didn’t think you had any more.

– Three powerful breathing exercises. Breathing effectively is the most powerful way to release stress and tension. These specific breathing exercises are, however, the only ones ever developed specifically for stress causing Erectile Dysfunction. Feel lighter, happier and harder within a few minutes.

– Six mental and emotional release exercises. These are the exact exercises I taught my in-office clients when I diagnosed emotional tension the main cause for their erectile dysfunction. Many men told me they felt immediate difference after doing these exercises only once. And so will you.

– Nine mystical awareness exercises. These are exercises that can be done alone or with your partner. They make you last longer and eventually you have complete control of how long time you make love. Finally, you’re in the cockpit of your love life.

All these exercises are extremely easy and simple to practice. None of them requires you to be in any kind of physical shape.

It doesn’t matter if you’re 18 or 80, weigh 50 or 500 pounds, you’ll benefit just as much.

Of course, I’ll lead you step-by-step in how to choose the exact exercises you need based on your personal case, and how much time you want to invest. So you’ll get the results you want as quickly as possible.

Most men only have to put aside 5-10 minutes a day for these exercises and you can do most of them while involved in other activities.

So you can rest assured that you’ll be banging your lady like you did when you were 25, ASAP.

Think of her eyes popping out as she asks you: “What in the world happened?”

And all this won’t break your bank!

So How Much Does All This Cost?

Remember that I’m giving you my life’s work. Thousands of hours of analyzing and testing the exercises went into it, working with hundreds of couples who participated.

Each session in my office used to go for $150.00 – and most couples came in for ten sessions or more.

Even worse… I simply didn’t have the time in the day to help everyone who wanted it.

That’s why I finally developed this guide because it’s just as easy for you to learn it from a guide instead of shamefully going to a clinical office.

And you can do it from the privacy of your home.

For the Fraction of the Price

What’s more…

You’re completely curing your Erectile Dysfunction. The only real alternative is taking prescription medications like VIAGRA®, LEVITRA®, AND CIALIS®.

These prescriptions go for $100-500/pack and most insurance won’t cover it.

But that’s not the worst part. Unlike my exercises that are guaranteed to work for you, prescription medications only help around 1/3 of the users.

Just think about it. Why take drugs that probably won’t help? They always cause serious side effects and sometimes even make problems worse down the road.

Plus, even if they work for awhile, they don’t CURE you like the Erectile Mastery exercises do. You’re dependant on these pills for the rest of your life.

Not to mention that having to beg a doctor for medication every time you want to have sex and plan your love life around a pill is both shameful and humiliating.

My advisors, therefore, tell me that I shouldn’t give this program away for less than $250.00.

But that’s not what you’ll have to pay.

Not even $200, $150 or $100

I sincerely want you to have this program, to cure your erectile dysfunction and to regain the happy love life you and your partner deserve.

That’s why if you click the order link today and secure your copy of the Erectile Mastery, I’ll guarantee you the one price of only $49.

That’s all you’ll ever pay. No repeated or backend cost. But hurry, because I can’t promise this price will last.

Because you’re not just getting a guide, program or a good deal. No, you’re getting a guarantee that you’ll succeed in gaining back the old feeling you used to have.

Because I’m backing you up with:

No Question Asked – 100% Success – Money Back Guarantee!

What this means is that if at any point you are not completely thrilled with the program, just send us ONE email through our contact form (contact us here…) and the highly trained support team at Blue Heron Health News will issue you an immediate, full refund.

You don’t even have to tell us why you want the refund.

I know some people will take advantage of this generous offer. They’ll buy the program and then immediately ask for their money back.

Because I want YOU to feel completely confident to purchase the Erectile Mastery Program and again get the rock-hard-erection that you used to have.

Just imagine how you’re going to feel when after only a few days of using the exercises (or even as soon as tonight) you’ll again be rock hard inside of her… and stay hard till the end!

Think about the love and surprise in her face when she realizes that her man is back.

I’ve worked with some of the most hopeless possible cases of Erectile Dysfunction you could imagine. And I know if they could do it, so can you.

Click the order link below and immediately upon completing your order, you’ll be redirected to the Member’s area where you download the program in PDF format.

There is no waiting for things in the mail or receiving an embarrassing package, so you can begin working on your powerful erection within minutes from now.

You may even feel a major difference immediately today!

There is nothing to lose because everything is 100% money back-guaranteed. And if you have any questions or need help, the qualified support team of Blue Heron Health News and I are here to answer your emails 24/7.

Warm regards,

P.S. , You can practice the exercises anytime, anywhere. Most of them are completely invisible so nobody has to know what you’re doing… not even your spouse.

And you download them in PDF immediately after completing your order. You can download to your computer or tablet, learn them online or print them out. So there is no waiting for shipping or receiving an embarrassing package. And you can experience a boost in erection as soon as today.

P.P.S. , You’re not taking any risk because everything is 100% full success money back-guaranteed. If you, at any time, are not completely thrilled about your order, just send us ONE email and we’ll refund you in full.

P.P.P.S. , Remember that the only realistic alternative to these exercises are prescription medications such as VIAGRA®, LEVITRA®, and CIALIS® that only work for 1/3 of males and carry loads of side effects (sometimes worsening Erectile Dysfunction down the road). These medications only mask the symptoms for a while but do not permanently heal erectile dysfunction like the Erectile Mastery exercises do.

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paulswilliams · 5 years

Video

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Cure Erectile Dysfunction - Blue Heron Health News review

Discover How Simple, Easy Exercises Drastically Increase Stamina And Heal Erectile Dysfunction From The Privacy Of Your Own Home…

…Success 100% Guaranteed!

The simple erectile dysfunction exercises you’re about to discover are so effective almost everyone who uses them regains complete stamina.

…no matter how hopeless your ED may seem at the moment, and even if you’ve tried everything in the past (including prescription medications).

They’re so easy, anyone can use them

It doesn’t matter if you’re 18 or 80, weigh 50 pounds or 500 pounds, you’ll become the sexual marathon man that you deserve to be.

What’s more, everything is so convenient you can practice most of the exercises anywhere, anytime.

Honestly, work on your ED while…

Watching TV

Surfing the Internet

Stopped at a red light

Before going to sleep

At a meeting

On the bus or train

Even during sex

…and nobody will ever know what you’re up to, not even your spouse!

Don’t live your life in embarrassment…

Having to beg a doctor for medication every time you want to have sex and plan your love life around a pill is both shameful and humiliating.

The worst part is that prescription medications like VIAGRA®, LEVITRA®, and CIALIS® help less than half of their users.

And, the side effects are horrendous…they even lead to worse erectile dysfunction down the road.

Plus, even in the cases where medications work for awhile, they don’t cure Erectile Dysfunction; they merely deal with the symptom (till they stop working).

On the other hand, the simple erectile dysfunction exercises deal with the underlying causes and therefore help almost everyone who uses them and permanently fix your problem.

In fact, I’m so confident that I claim:

Success 100% Guaranteed!

But I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. At this moment you’re probably thinking:

How in the world do these exercises work?

I’ll explain that in details in a few moments.

But first, so that you may understand exactly how to do the exercises and how they work, let me tell you who I am and how I discovered this amazing treasure.

My name is Christian Goodman.

Before my semi-retirement, I ran a successful couples therapy practice. I saved more marriages than I can count.

My schedule was so full I had to turn down new clients every day.

Making a long story short, early in my career, I noticed that one of the main issues couples brought up were sexual issues – most often Erectile Dysfunction.

That’s why I know exactly what you’re feeling

Never in my life have I witnessed as many strong, skilled men who were completely broken down emotionally as I did then.

Like I imagine you right now, their self-confidence was shattered in pieces. They were full of shame and hopelessness and felt completely isolated and alone.

Oftentimes, this had been going on for a long while and at this point they were avoiding sex altogether because they knew it wasn’t going to work.

The men were unhappy, the women unsatisfied and divorce was on the table.

But You Are Not Alone