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I'm trundling along on my still-untitled Calliope interstitial. Titles usually present themselves in the writing, but there are rare occasions when nothing presents itself and I have to pull a title out of my ass shortly before posting. These titles, by the by, often suck, but few things are lazier than a fic sent out into the world bereft of a name, that simplest and most potent of identifiers. So I'll think of something before the end, even if it's "The Midnight Dust Bunnies of an Irish-Catholic Bookworm."
According to the FyeahRammstein Tumblr and the Emigrate Facebook page, Emigrate endures, a scrap of news that pleases me mightily. Richard might not be Jimi Hendrix in terms of melodic complexity, and maybe he sounds like Billy Corgan swallowed an electric shaver, and yes, many of his lyrics are, well, clumsy, but his riffs and hooks are amazing, and it's a fun album to have on while you're pottering around the house, and "Resolution" and "Blood" just flat make me want to shake my asymmetrical ass. It's clear from the finished product that he relishes being in complete control of the creative process, and if it keeps him happy and produces good music, then I'm all for more. I can't wait to hear the new material and see if and how his songwriting has changed and improved. And if he one day mounts a club tour and plays in bars and assorted techno dryhump deathtraps, then I'll gladly pay the cover to sit in a drying beer puddle next to the reeking cesspit of a bathroom to watch him. It might not be the pageantry and grand, beautiful, operatic spectacle of Rammstein, but I suspect it would be raw and utterly balls-out. And if I managed to carve a seam in the shifting wall of asses and elbows, I would not hesitate to leer.
According to the FyeahRammstein Tumblr and the Emigrate Facebook page, Emigrate endures, a scrap of news that pleases me mightily. Richard might not be Jimi Hendrix in terms of melodic complexity, and maybe he sounds like Billy Corgan swallowed an electric shaver, and yes, many of his lyrics are, well, clumsy, but his riffs and hooks are amazing, and it's a fun album to have on while you're pottering around the house, and "Resolution" and "Blood" just flat make me want to shake my asymmetrical ass. It's clear from the finished product that he relishes being in complete control of the creative process, and if it keeps him happy and produces good music, then I'm all for more. I can't wait to hear the new material and see if and how his songwriting has changed and improved. And if he one day mounts a club tour and plays in bars and assorted techno dryhump deathtraps, then I'll gladly pay the cover to sit in a drying beer puddle next to the reeking cesspit of a bathroom to watch him. It might not be the pageantry and grand, beautiful, operatic spectacle of Rammstein, but I suspect it would be raw and utterly balls-out. And if I managed to carve a seam in the shifting wall of asses and elbows, I would not hesitate to leer.