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#musings about music

iphigeniacomplex · 5 months

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it’s very easy to tell the good satires and pastiches from the bad ones because the bad ones are too afraid to live within the form. like if you are doing work with fairy tales and you are refusing to look closer at the underlying logic and unspoken rules of what can seem at first to be a senseless form, you are not going to create meaningful work. to borrow a turn of phrase originally used by maria tatar, if you refuse to enter “the house of fairy tale” as anything more than a gawking tourist, you will miss the particular order to the way the table is set, the rooms that are locked vs the rooms that are simply difficult to enter, the set of the floorboards and the position of the furniture. whatever you build will then be a gilded imitation of how you believe the house of fairy tale ought to look, the table set according to your educated specifications and every door open. there can be no interrogation of themes from a writer who views the form as beneath them!

#it speaks!#sondheim understood this with into the woods; the deconstruction of narrative itself is able to happen because we are able to believe in ->#<- the fairy tale logic he employs prior to this.#its a kids book but adam gidwitz understood this with a tale dark and grimm!!#cant speak for the rest of the series but that first book uses the absurdity of fairy tale logic to speak about the absurdity of ->#<- adulthood and the pedagogy present in many fairy tales to discuss the ways parents hurt their children.#rule of threes is important but theres so much on my list ive yet to read; always welcome recommendations.#fairy tales #into the woods #<- this comes from musings on how successfully i feel that musical functions so it gets the tag

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sporadicallynightmarishbees · 5 months

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I can't be expected to be normal after hearing the words:

" 'I've seen enough,' he says, 'I know exactly what I want

And it's this life that we've created

Inundated with the fated thought of you

And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all

Like petals in a storm

'Cause, darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades, at night when light is fading

Just to let you know, I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading

Into carpet burns and carousels

Christ, you'll be the death of me' "

Like??? How am I supposed to exist after this ripped open my ribs and played them like a xylophone

#Fair #the amazing devil #joey batey #madeline hyland #this is my millionth listen #im so normal about them actually #so normal #musical musings #music #there is cocaine in those songs #heartbreak #i want to cry #im sobbing #how can i survive when this exists #emotional #the amazing devil invented emotions actually #love #love songs #love sick

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sunburnacoustic · 5 months

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I just need a second to sit and take in this gif. This 2-second moment. Just need to break it down and appreciate it.

The look in Matt's eyes like 'shit's gonna go down'. The finger point: potent, like 'you're ready Chris, Dom? We're gonna blow some minds.' The nod of readiness from Chris. The shortest moment of breath intake from Matt, and then the way he fucking lets loose. Full-body loose. Eyes shut, he needs to lean away from the mic because it would be too much. The way you can just HEAR this gif. "*breATH* waAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!' The instant heavy headbanging from Chris. How many minds were blown indeed in that one moment. Just a two-second gif. What a work of art. An artistic statement. I just fucking love Muse so much.

#Muse band #Musers #Muse #Matt Bellamy #Chris Wolstenholme #Showbiz era #I bet it was haha #I'm sorry Muse mental illness descends HARD during exam season #I was just thinking about this gif for a full 10 minutes #I've got an assignment due in an hour or so I'm gonna go finish that n all #but. I was updating the Chris' curls post (this is definitely on that) and every time I do I keep thinking about this gif #what a work of art #musicians #music #art #artists

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beez-nutz · 5 months

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Greek chorus alignment chart

Legally Blonde the Musical - Chaotic Good

Hercules - Chaotic Neutral

Hadestown - Chaotic Evil

(edit: I've been told they fit the "lawful evil" role better, or even the "true neutral one", and I agree, but for the sake of consistency, I assigned them the chaotic evil allignment. This post isn't really serious I made it mostly in a humorous way)

#i was thinking about the fact that two of my favorite musicals have a group of women who sing in the protagonists head #and i was like wait a minute #and then the muses in Hercules are a nice middle ground #musicals #broadway #hadestown #legally blonde the musical #hercules disney #greek chorus #alignment chart

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ultimateplaylistmaker · 6 months

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Unpopular opinion I don’t think Kokichi would be mad at Kaito for giving up the plan, Shuichi had figured most of it out, Monokuma seemed certain he knew who did it and actively threatened that if they get it wrong he’d still execute them all, everyone was pretty sure it was Kaito, Shuichi caught on far too late, the plan had basically failed by that point and Kaito was minutes away from dying to his illness, I think Kokichi would agree that there was no salvaging it at that point

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #now would he lie about being mad? 100%#kokichi ouma #musings from the music manager

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baby-girl-aaron-dessner · 6 months

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Taylor Swift describing her relationship with Harry Styles in terms of colors:

Slut!: “Flamingo pink, Sunrise Boulevard”, “Aquamarine, moonlit swimmin' pool” & “In the tangerine, neon light, this is luxury.”

Out of the Woods: “The rest of the world was black and white / But we were in screaming color.”

Wonderland (original lyrics): "Colors I'd never seen twisting around me."

Question…?: “I don't remember who I was before you / Painted all my nights / A color I've searched for since.”

#color as a motif in Taylor’s work #I think it’s so romantic when she characterises their love as colourful #I’m not a fan of his music (I just haven’t listened to his work except for his first album which was such was great I love sign of the times #BUT he is my favourite muse when it comes to Taylor’s music because she writes so beautifully and consistently about their relationship #taylor swift #1989 #1989 taylor's version #1989 tv #harry styles #haylor #ts #taylorswift #out of the woods #wonderland #can i ask you a question?#question...?#the eras tour #harry and taylor #taylor and harry

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luciuscaelus · 1 month

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Our Story (Fanfic)

Chapter 1 Promises

“Now, sing O Muses, of that brave boy Odysseïdes, Sparta has he visit'd, Pylos twice, with Athena the wise queen…”

“Stop it,” Telemachus giggled. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Peisistratus. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Telemachus. “Unlike him, I don’t have many deeds to brag about.”

“Doesn’t sailing for the first time count?” Peisistratus insisted. “And if you don’t like this song I can always make a new one for you.”

“No thanks, Peisis,” Telemachus said. “At least, leave it till my birthday.”

“That I can arrange,” Peisistratus replied, seriously.

And they locked their gazes for a long time, until Telemachus finally burst out laughing. Soon Peisistratus joined him, and their laughter quickly flooded the entire palace. It died down eventually, as the two young men slowly calmed down. Then Peisistratus started:

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tele. Had it been another usual day, I’d be hunting with my brothers in the fields. Not that I don’t like hunting, it’s just that I’ve so many things to talk about and my brothers always find them either boring or childish. You might be the only one I could chat with. Ah, I wish you could visit Pylos more often.”

“Yeah,” Telemachus nodded. “It feels like such a long time since we last met…has it been two years already?”

“One whole year plus nine months, to be exact.”

“Right, I’m not gonna doubt you. After all, you’re better with this than I am.”

“That’s about the time since your father returned home, yep.”

“Before he set out again, you mean.”

“He set out again? About when?”

Telemachus sighed. “About one year and eight months ago. Said it was something concerning a prophecy someone named Teiresias told him—”

“Teiresias? The Teiresias? But isn’t he already dead?”

“Yep. My father had visited the Underworld, literally.”

Peisistratus gasped. “What—Oh my, that was some nostos your father had. Anyway has he met any great hero there? Like Theseus? Or Heracles? Or even my brother Antilochus?”

“He saw your brother there alright,” said Telemachus. “And Heracles, who even talked to him…”

“That’s so sick!” Peisistratus exclaimed. “I wonder if we’ll be having an adventure like this in the future, say, just you and me, maybe plus someone else, I don’t know.”

“You know what? It would be great!” Telemachus blinked his eyes excitedly. Why have I never thought about it before? Hanging out with my friends? It’s such a great idea! And father is going to be proud of us…

proud…

He’s going to be proud, isn’t he?

Telemachus wasn’t so sure. He remembered basically everything in that day, when his father again departed from Ithaca, this time to somewhere unknown even to himself. He remembered that it was a sunny day, that the chanting of birds was glorious, that the sweet scent of olives was mesmerizing, that the airy dance of cloud was elegant. These he remembered well, but most vividly he could recall that very scene, that very conversation—

“Father, I want to come along,” he had said. “I want to be with you wherever you go, so we can at least share some thrills and fun together.”

“No, Tele,” his father had answered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bring you on board, not this time.”

“Why?” He had been so confused. “But I’ve always wanted to explore the worlds outside Ithaca, to see the giant oak in Dodona, the reputable land of Calydon, the seven gates of the famous Cadmea…I want to have an adventure, father. Just like you did.”

He remembered that look well. That look his father had gave him, those eyes with such agony, such sadness. Is it panic, panicking at the thought of his son following him down the miserable path that was meant for his own to take? Is it fear, fearing for the life and sanity of his son? Or is it sorrow, sorrowful over the naïve and innocent spirit of his 20-year-old son? Or is it pain, painful about the fact that he doesn’t even qualify as being a father, who never had the chance to see his son through the childhood, and hadn’t gotten to know this brave young man his son has become, before his fate was calling him to sail out again?

For a long time both of them didn’t speak, and the look was growing wearier and wearier and…it seemed as if another decade had passed inside his father’s mind, another decade filled with tribulations and torments. Telemachus couldn’t help but feel his regret. Regret that he ever said those words, regret that he wasn’t with his father when he needed him. The hands. He could feel his father’s hands gripping his shoulders tightly. But finally his father had lower the head, and sighed heavily. In a low voice, Odysseus had begun. “Tele, you have to understand. This cruel world is not as entertaining as it may seem, or sound in those tales. It’s dangerous out there, filled with monsters, storms, ruthless gods, and…and things that can go beyond your very imagination. Things that are so terrible, so overwhelming…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence, instead he was choked with sobs, and Telemachus had felt so guilty, and so helpless. But he had tried his best to withhold his tears, and had started to comfort his father. “Then I’ll face them bravely, father, like you would do. Like a true son of Odysseus would do.” Telemachus had put up with a smile. “As a true Odysseïdes.”

“Oh Tele…” Odysseus had moaned with tears. “Oh…for ten years I haven’t seen your face, in one month I haven’t gotten to know you better, but look, what an undaunted man you have become, when I’m away!” Finally, he had cracked into a smile. “Yes, that’s my boy!” He had said with sincere happiness, though the pain was still present in his voice. But at least, Odysseus had smiled.

And Telemachus had exhaled with relief.

“Father,” he had continued. “I wouldn’t insist if you really don’t want me along, but I need to know where you’re going, what you’re going to do, and how long I should wait for your return. Could you please tell me, just for mom’s sake and mine?”

And Odysseus had nodded. “Don’t worry about your mother, Telemachus. Penelope knows about this, and you have every right to know it as well.” He had stopped, and looked towards the western sky. As Telemachus followed his gaze, Odysseus continued. “Do you remember the story I’ve told you, about that prophet Teiresias in the Underworld? I had asked him about my fate, and he had answered:

‘…When someone else runs into you and says you've got a shovel used for winnowing on your broad shoulders, then fix that fine oar in the ground there, and make rich sacrifice to lord Poseidon with a ram, a bull, and a boar that breeds with sows. Then leave. Go home, and there make sacred offerings to the immortal gods…’

“So you see, Telemachus, I don’t know where I’ll go to, but I know what I’ll find. It may be a long voyage, or it may be short. Who knows? But I’m going anyway, because I am Laërtiades, son of the honorable Laërtes—one of the legendary Argonauts.”

“I see,” Telemachus had said. “The blood of dauntlessness runs deep in our family.”

“Precisely.” Odysseus had laughed proudly. “You, my son, will also share this honor, in the future perhaps, when you take on a journey of your own, and build your fame with your own feats. But today, the journey is mine to undertake, and with the blessing of the prophet, I’m very certain that I will make it home again.”

“Okay.” With a serious face, Telemachus had nodded. “Then I’ll try not to surpass you.”

They were both grinning when an owl started to whoop from the forest.

“Wait, dad,” Telemachus had suddenly called. “If not this time, then when?”

Odysseus had given him a slight smile. “When I return, son, I shall take you to Dodona, where the oaks are august; then we’ll visit Calydon, where twenty two heroes had once gathered to slay that giant boar; then we shall go to Thebes, where twice had the Argives waged war against, one of them being the father of a king whom I have befriended; and then,” Odysseus had patted Telemachus’s right shoulder. “Then I will bring you to Pylos again. And know that I won’t be gone for long. This is a promise.”

“Swear it on the river of Styx?”

“I swear it, on the river of Styx.”

Gradually, Telemachus had returned the smile. “Thank you, dad.” He had said, voice cracked with the bittersweet taste in his throat. “Thank you so much.”

He remembered the hug, the kiss, and the departure of his father clearly. He remembered how often he had doubted that whether his father would ever make it back again. He remembered that worried look of his mother, who had often stood by the shores of Ithaca, waiting, waiting. But he also remembered, that Odysseus had made a promise.

And here they were, in Pylos again, weren’t they?

And it only took him eight months, didn’t it?

So, there’s nothing to worry about. After all, there’s nothing that can waver the resolve of Odysseus’s homecoming. And thus he shall always return. Always.

All because of his love, and his promise.

Telemachus nodded to this fact. Love, and promise. That’s what my father was proud of. And if I have found the courage to love, to make a promise, then will Odysseus be proud of me, even with the knowledge that I may travel afar, likely into an ocean of danger, and a sea of trouble?

Then will we get to have our adventure, and get back safely? Will we get to tell our tales, and make our own story?

So to Peisistratus he said these words, with all his heart:

“And I’m sure we will. Of this I give you my promise.”