Corner-Hotel

4

TY SEGALL

The Corner Hotel, Melbourne.

Coming in hot with their San Fransiscain attitude - the combintaion of loving what do but at the same time not giving a single fuck - Ty Segall and his band were the fuel that set a raging crowd of sweater moshers alight. Having already sold out two shows in Melbourne on the bands nation wide Manipulator tour, the heat was turnt all the way up to maxium for their third and final performance.
The crowd who knew the lyrics to every single track, headbanged like it wasn’t an issue if their necks snapped in half. For once everyone just let the music completely take over, creating an atmosphere that unbeliveably intense.
Ty, being the mad man that he is, was perfectly in-tune with the crowd. He knew exacltly what everyone wanted and gave them more than they asked for. Although he only half played his classics he redeemed himself by setting his guitar string’s on fire and preaching the lyrics to paranoid by Black Sabbath - diving head first into the crowd, loosing his microphone and leaving the stage because none of his shit worked anymore, the real measure of a good performance. So that was it - Ty Segall, the man and the legend at the Corner Hotel on Monday December 15th 2014. 


Good Stuff - Doug Bennett

takemeawaytocamelot  asked:

It's been a while since we got some Modern Glasgow love. So what if Jamie and Claire need a holiday, away from their frantic lives for a bit. We know they love their kids, but sometimes a break is needed. Maybe a nice wee date or a weekend getaway? Thank you Gotham!!

Modern Glasgow AU

“Will ye look at that? The postman is here!”

Faith Fraser – aged almost two – let out a wee cheer and scampered from the couch to the front door of the flat. Her sister Brianna – aged almost one, and at that stage where she mimed almost everything her beloved older sister did – let out her own confused wee cheer, and speed-crawled across the carpet, keeping up the best she could.

Murtagh knelt to help Faith into her bright blue sweater, then lifted Brianna to his hip, wrapping a worn Fraser plaid arisaid around her wee shoulders – knowing that Claire would have his head if she heard that her daughters had so much as stuck their wee noses outside without proper covering.

“Ready?”

Faith enthusiastically nodded, and Murtagh carefully opened the door, let Faith run out to the landing, and then turned to lock the door behind him, balancing a suddenly squirmy Brianna.

“*Seas, a ruaidh,*” he hushed her. “Ye’ll be chasing after yer sister soon enough. Faith! Dinna go down the stairs until I’m there!”

Faith theatrically froze at the top step – one small leg poised to take the first step down – waiting for her godfather.

And then Murtagh was there, taking her hand, guiding her down the three flights to the ground floor and unlocking the entry door.

Chilly, damp air – unusual for July – blasted through the open door – and Brianna suddenly snuggled against his neck, seeking warmth.

“Sshh,” he soothed. “I ken it’s almost yer naptime.”

Swiftly he unlocked the mailbox, and allowed the cards, letters, and magazines to spill out.

“Muwta!” Faith admonished. “Ye haf to clean up the mess!”

“Weel – can ye help me, Ms. Faith? I have my hands full wi’ yer wee sister here.”

Gleefully she bent to stuff her arms full of mail – and one particular piece caught her eye.

“Issa coo!” she exclaimed, holding the postcard out to Murtagh for his inspection. “Just like Bwee’s toy!”

“Aye – it’s a bonny coo,” Murtagh agreed, smiling at the blasé picture. “And look – it’s from the Isle of Skye! Who could possibly have sent it?”

“Mama and Da!” Faith exclaimed.

“Mama?” Bree briefly perked up, craning her neck to see if her beloved parents had suddenly returned.

“No, *a leannan* - they’re no’ back yet,” Murtagh soothed, running a gentle hand up and down Bree’s wee back. “They should be back tomorrow – come then, Faith. Help me wi’ the post and then we can go back upstairs, make some tea, and read their postcard – all right?”

“All right!” Suddenly engrossed in her task, Faith scooped up all the pieces of mail and darted back up the stairs – stray letters fluttering behind her.

“Mama?” Bree asked again, voice filled with sleep.”

“Hush now – lay yer heid. Mama and Da love ye so much.”

Bree settled back against him – and blessed his neck with a small, wet sneeze.

“And Murtagh loves ye and Faith more than he can ever find the words to say,” he continued, turning back to the stairs. “Though God kens it’s trying sometimes.”

“Dear Faith and Bree – we saw so many coos today! And sheep and goats too. The weather is bonny and we wish ye were here with us. Mama says we can come back once the baby comes, and take a proper holiday. Hope you aren’t giving Murtagh too much trouble. Lots of love, Mama and Da.”

Jamie looked up from the desk at the corner of their hotel room. “What do ye think?”

Claire stretched, naked, amid the soft duvet, rubbing the five-month swell of their bairn. “I think we’ll need to get a nice bottle of whisky, for Murtagh. And of course a coo for Faith, since she’ll be jealous that Bree has one and she doesn’t.”

“I’m glad she won’t take it for herself, then – God kens it’s what I would do,” Jamie smiled, finishing the last of his tea.

“Well - *I* like to raise my children to have manners,” she teased, rolling over to one side, watching him. “This one, too.”

Jamie rose, crossed the room, and slid over her on the bed, pushing her to her back, holding himself up on his arms above her. Feeling their bairn dance under his belly.

“God bless women like you for bringing more Frasers into this world,” he breathed, rolling them to rest on their sides, still skin on skin.

“It means I’m going straight to heaven,” she teased. “For putting up with you.”

“I hope you’re willing to do a wee bit more than just put up wi’ me,” he whispered against her lips. She closed the gap in a long, heated kiss.

“Happy anniversary, Jamie.” She rolled on top of him. His fingers skimmed all over her beautiful, glowing skin.

“Six years,” he breathed, swallowing with want and emotion. “Holy God, Claire – we have forever together. Do ye ken that?”

She smiled – and took him, gasping, inside – and he kent it weel.

Never Gonna Happen

Enzo Amore/OC (smut): Despite his constant playful flirtations, you and Enzo have never been anything more than friends. After a drunken night at the club, and a questionable morning after, you learn how he really feels about you.

(This is my first fic on here, I’m so nervous but I hope you all really enjoy it! It ended up waaaay longer than I anticipated.)

Special thanks to @imaginingwwesuperstars for being super supportive and an all-around sweetheart, ily. <3

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Last night John on stage asked us if we were all happy with where we are in this current point of time and I was like ‘Yasss I’m not pregnant" and John was like “you’d be at the back drinking” and his mic made the worst sound and he said something like “obviously they didn’t like that comment up there” and then said “you do realise our mothers were pregnant at some point”
And I couldn’t help myself and I asked how women get pregnant and John just gave me this look before laughing and said something like “your fathers fuck your mothers” Oop I love John, what a legend.

Personification of Sex [a Barry Allen Smut AU]

Request: I live for your smuts oh my god. How interesting would it be to find that poor evil!Barry isn’t as dominant as we think he is in the bedroom… Reader can be a hero who now knows a weakness of his ;) lets bring the smut on! lol

a/n: hell yea, sub evil barry my amigos

WARNING: Smut (kinda kinky)


You smirk, watching the speedster squirm around on the bed. He is already naked, desperate to be touched. His dick is rock hard, nipples red and aching. Your bare feet pad across the carpet, fingers barely touching the bed. Your clothes have been long forgotten in the corner of the hotel room; body fully exposed to him.

He arches his back, whining to grab your attention. Well, that’s pretty much his job; throwing tantrums to get your attention. “Come on, Y/N! I said I was sorry! Just fucking touch me, god damnit!” he spits, practically vibrating on the bed. “What I did wasn’t that evil!” he tries to reason, pouting.

“You almost killed people, Barry.” you hiss, finally climbing onto the mattress, kneeling in between his long legs. He rolls his eyes, scoffing. “We had a deal. I think you need to be punished…” you tease, leaning down; breasts coming into contact with his torso. A gasp bubbles in his throat, full eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. “Who knew a supervillain could be so…submissive?” you hum seductively.

Barry sucks in a breath, trying his best to bite back a whimper. Damn, his dick is throbbing. “Y/N, please, please, please, just… just touch me! I promise I’ll be a good boy!” he begs, lower lip quivering faintly. You cock an eyebrow, sitting up to reposition yourself. “Come on! I won’t- I won’t steal for two wee- no, that’s… a week! No stealing for a week, I sw- oh fuck!” he hisses, feeling you sink down on his cock.

Chewing on your lip, you brace your hands on his strong chest, muscles moving underneath your palms. Barry groans, attempting to grab you, pulling at the restraints like a madman. “You aren’t cumming until you’re told to, got me?” you say sternly, slowly rocking your hips with his. He whimpers but nods eagerly. “Good boy.” you praise.

The color of his cheeks darken. No, he isn’t a good boy! He’s the best villain ever! You giggle at his inner conflict, fingers twitching on his pale skin. His breath hitches, eyelids snapping shut while you play with his nipples, bouncing up and down. “Ugh, Y/N!” he screams, beads of sweat dripping off his temples. You twist one, playfully pinching it. “P-please, oh god! Fuck!” His hips involuntarily buck up, dick hitting your g-spot.

You moan softly, grinding down on him. He peers at you; eyes covered in a glaze, adam’s apple prominent. God, he is literally the personification of sex. “Are you close, my boy?” you ask breathlessly, knot forming in your lower stomach. Barry nods, thick eyebrows scrunched together, mouth opened faintly. “Okay, on three…” you order, rocking your body. “One… tw-”

Shouting profanities, Barry lets himself cum, eyes rolling back and torso vibrating. You gasp, mixing yourself with him as you pinch his nipples. He pants, watching you continue to ride him. A few minutes later, you stop, climbing off him. “I… Will I get that next week if I’m a good boy?” he wonders, staring up at the ceiling.

“Only if you’re good.”

Stumbling upon The Menzingers at the start of last year was one of the best discoveries I’ve ever made. These days, it’s hard for me to find a band that I’m blown away by on the first listen. These guys had that for me.

Their album On The Impossible Past struck a chord with me that I haven’t had from a band since maybe 2007/2008. I remember listening to it for the first time, and barely fifteen minutes in, I was hooked. Within days, I’d downloaded their back catalogue, and found myself spinning these guys in my car, on my iPod and on my laptop constantly.

As far as how the band sounds…they’re a step away from your regular American punk rock band. While the lyrics still reflect the highs and lows of what a guy in his mid-20’s goes through, heartbreak, drinking, travelling and friendship…the musicianship is a lot more raw and edgy, while still being melodic, and having a sense of folk punk about it. More in the vein of The Lawrence Arms, Against Me! or the Alkaline Trio.

And now, a year on from hearing these guys for the first time, I got to see them play at the Corner Hotel last night. It was awesome. I say that a lot about the gigs I go to, but there was something about the loud, fun, beer-fueled singalongs during their forty minute set last night that marked that gig as one of the best I’ve ever been too. It was also cool having my long-time friend Ash come up to me after their last song and say “Dude, you were right. Those guys are fucking awesome.”

Songs to listen to: Gates, The Obituaries, Burn After Writing, Victory Gin, Sun Hotel, Coal City Blues, Casey, Nice Things.

you’re on my mind

fandom: bts
pairing: park jimin/jeon jungkook
rated: g
summary: Jungkook wished it was appropriate to punch himself in the face, because that was the only way he would shut up at that point.
genre: fluff, soft
wordcount: 1240 


The first time Jimin told Jungkook he loved him was during the early years before their debut.

Jimin experience homesickness in waves, some currents stronger than others. It was worse during stressful periods, and lately Jimin had been calling his parents every other night, speaking softly about how much he missed them and how he wished he could be playing with his baby brother instead.

The night he made his routine phone call, he was out in the living room while Jungkook sat at the table doing homework. Every so often Jungkook glanced up as Jimin snorted or complained at whatever conversation he was having with his mother. Soon the topic of food came up, and Jimin’s excited voice shrunk back as he stared at the floor.

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5

“We’re living in a time of real change,” says Depeche Mode singer Dave Gahan, a vision of intensity dressed head-to-toe in black. “As I get older, the things going on in the world affect me more. I think about my kids and what they’re growing up into. My daughter, Rosie, was deeply affected by the election last year. … She just sobbed, and I was like, ‘Wow.’”

RELATED

Depeche Mode Look Back on 'Violator’ 25 Years Later

The album was “the pinnacle of us having fun,” says Martin Gore

It’s an overcast mid-January day, and the singer, 54, is picking at some tagliatelle in a corner hotel restaurant located in downtown Manhattan, where he’s lived for about a decade. Despite sharing his alarm about the state of the world, he’s in bright spirits and can look at himself objectively. “Martin [Gore] and I both live in America, so we’re both very affected by what goes on,” he says. “Martin said to me, 'I know to some people, this will come off as rich rock stars living in their big houses in Santa Barbara with not a care in the world, and it’s true that we’re very fortunate. But that doesn’t mean you stop caring about what’s going on in the world. It’s really affecting me.’ And I said, 'I understand. I feel the same.’”

That sense of worry informed Gahan and his Depeche Mode bandmates while writing their upcoming album, Spirit, which is due out March 17th, as many of the LP’s 12 songs deal directly with the general Weltschmerz circulating the planet lately. Although Depeche Mode became megastars to a legion of black-clad, disaffected malcontents with serious songs about universal compassion (“People Are People”) and more personal revelations (“Enjoy the Silence,” “I Feel You”), the new tracks seem like a different chapter for the group. “I wouldn’t call this a political album,” Gahan says, “because I don’t listen to music in a political way. But it’s definitely about humanity, and our place in that.”

He sings of bigots “turning back our history” on “Backwards,” cheekily calls for change in “Where’s the Revolution?” (“Who’s making your decisions,” he sings, “you or your religion?”) and looks inward on the brooding “Poison Heart.” Musically, these songs are dark-hued with complex textures that are both icy and warm sounding, harkening back to the group’s Violator era while still sounding musically like an extension of their last album, 2013’s Delta Machine.

The realization that Gahan and Gore were on the same page with regard to world events came early when they regrouped last year with bandmate Andy Fletcher to begin work on the album. When they looked at everything they’d brought to the table, they saw a through-line. “We called the album Spirit, because it’s like, 'Where’s the spirit gone?’ or 'Where’s the spirit in humanity?’” Gahan says. “We considered calling it Maelstrom – that was a bit too heavy metal.”

They brought in producer James Ford, whose work with Florence and the Machine, Arctic Monkeys and Simian Mobile Disco had impressed the group, and he helped get the musicians get back on the same page. Other than a few disagreements between Gahan and Gore that Ford settled (“We really had it out,” Gahan says with a laugh, “It got pretty emotional”), the recording process went relatively quickly and easily, with sessions in Gore’s Santa Barbara studio and in New York.

Now the group is releasing the record’s first single, the Gore-penned “Where’s the Revolution?” The slow-building number, which features fuzzy synths, serves as a call-to-arms, on which Gahan sings, “The train is coming/Get on board,” along with the title question. “Martin wrote it in a very sarcastic, English way,” Gahan says.

It’s a mood that continues in another Spirit song “Backwards.” It opens with Gahan singing, “We are the bigots/We have not allowed/We have no respect/We have lost control.” It goes on to lambaste some people’s “caveman mentality” and how others “feel nothing inside,” amid jabbing keyboards and pounding rhythms and complete with Gore’s backing vocals. “If we want things to change, a revolution, we need to talk about it and about caring about what goes on in the world,” Gahan says. “It doesn’t seem the way things are in London. We seem to be going in another direction, and I think Martin felt like he needed to express that.”

That theme also resounds in another song written by Gore, “So Much Love,” a more upbeat, electronics-driven number about realizing that everyone has love inside. “It’s like we have so much love here, we really do, but we’re afraid to use it and access it,” Gahan says. “It’s the old John Lennon thing, like, 'love and peace, man.’”

But while Gahan sees a connection to the Beatles, the tune sounds nothing like the Fab Four with its dense, noisy pastiche of keyboards, drum machine and an eerie guitar line. Gahan says that the song, musically, has more in common with Depeche Mode in their earliest days.

“Back in '79 or 1980, we would play these 25-minute sets where I would write the little dots on the drum machine and shift it up and down to make it go faster or slower,” Gahan recalls. “It was a wall of sound. We’d plug these three keyboards into the drum machine, and three microphones – Vince [Clarke], Martin and myself – so it was three-part harmonies and a very distorted drum machine. … ['So Much Love’] also reminds me of early electronic stuff, like Tuxedomoon and Cabaret Voltaire, who did kind of punky, distorted songs.”

It’s the exact opposite sound of the ballad “Poison Heart,” a particularly catchy and euphonious number Gahan concocted with the group’s drummer, Christian Eigner, and keyboardist, Peter Gordeno. “They sent me this guitar line, and it had a bit of a Muscle Shoals vibe,” Gahan says. “It was a very different feel and I got this melody in my head.” It opens with a slow, funeral march in the vein of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ “I Put a Spell on You” and builds to an almost Beatles-like bridge with only a smidgen of noisy guitar. Gore, whom Gahan says is “not a man of many words when it comes to others’ songs,” called “Poison Heart” the best song Gahan had ever written.

“You have poison in your heart,” he croons outright at the beginning of the song. And later, he sings, “You know it’s time to break up/You’ll always be alone,” but Gahan says it’s not intended to be a breakup song.

“I was watching the news on TV and I was writing through my own inability to really relate to another human being,” he says. “There must be something wrong with me, poison in my heart or whatever. So it was fun to play with that imagery, and it became more worldly – greed and lust and wanting what you want when you want it and nothing else matters. So I was breaking up with myself – trying to evolve, trying to break up with old ideas that I think are working for me but are not in actuality. Fortunately, that’s not my relationship with my wife.”

He laughs, picking at his pasta, and says that “Poison Heart” complements another song on the album, which wasn’t played for Rolling Stone, called “Worst Crime.” “The lyrics to 'Poison Heart’ are more of an internal dialogue, but 'Worst Crime’ is looking outward,” he says. “It’s bringing about the change. You’ve got to do something different or act differently. We can all talk about whatever is going on until we’re blue in the face but you have to take real action, and sometimes we don’t know what that looks like. Individually, I believe people are inherently good, but we’re really distorted by the information we get and we act out on that information out of fear.”

Another way he expressed that opinion on the album is in a song called “Cover Me,” which he describes as a story song. “It’s about a person who travels to another planet only to find that, much to his dismay, it’s exactly the same as earth,” Gahan says. “It’s a different planet but the same. He really can’t get away from himself. If he wants things to change, he’s going to have to implement it.”

If that premise sounds like pure Bowie, it’s only because the Starman loomed large as an influence on Gahan and Gore throughout their career. “When Bowie died, we both didn’t know what to do with it,” Gahan says. “There was a personal connection there. It was a huge loss.”

Gahan recalls sobbing last January when he heard that Bowie had died. He had gotten used to seeing Bowie in surprisingly normal social settings – Gahan and Bowie’s daughters are about the same age and attend the same school – and Gahan would sometimes chat with Bowie at school functions. “It was very different to the Bowie that I grew up adoring and living vicariously through,” he says. He’d become a fan as a young teen watching Top of the Pops and latched onto Bowie’s androgyny because his mother didn’t like it. When he turned 16, he scrounged together some money (“I’m sure I stole something and sold it,” he says) to see Bowie perform at London’s Earl’s Court in 1978, and he calls the double live album, Stage, which was recorded on that tour, “some kind of pacifier” for him, his go-to Bowie.

“I had seen the news but it wasn’t until my wife told me he had died that I just broke down in tears,” Gahan says. “My daughter came out and they were both hugging me. It really affected me. I felt a huge gap. One of the things I was most regrettable about was that I had never really gone up to him at any time I’d seen him in passing and said, 'You know, David, I bump into you every once in a while, but I’ve never told you how much your music has meant to me and continues to mean to me.’”

To right this, Depeche Mode paid tribute to Bowie at a special concert they recently recorded at New York City’s High Line public park. They filmed the performance – which they did without an audience and which included several songs from Spirit – with just a drum machine and Gore on guitar, and they capped it with a cover of Bowie’s “Heroes.” “I was so moved, I barely held it together, to be honest,” Gahan says. “Martin listened to 'Heroes’ once it was mixed and randomly told me, 'Wow, that was really fucking good.’ And I said, 'Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?’”

Although Depeche Mode have not yet decided how they will release this film, Gahan is eager for people to see the whole thing and especially “Heroes.” In the meantime, he’s getting back into the headspace of performing live, and spreading the band’s new message of world awareness to audiences. By his estimation, the band has already sold over a million tickets to a few dozen stadium European stadium shows later this year, and the group is still finalizing plans for a U.S. tour; rehearsals begin in mid-February.

But it’s the early interest in the upcoming European leg that Gahan is most excited about, since many venues were nearly sold out before the release of the new single. “We spent a lot of years just fighting to be heard and to be respected,” he says. “One or two reviews of our past albums over the years have been pretty harsh. And you go, 'Oh, those people really don’t get us, they don’t get it.’”

But over the last nearly four decades, Depeche Mode have amassed a dedicated fan base, something that resonated with Gahan recently when he was working on a side project with the cinematic production team Soulsavers. One of the members of that group, Rich Machin, told him that Depeche Mode records like Violator and Songs of Faith and Devotion were among his favorites when he was 13.

“They were like what Diamond Dogs and Ziggy Stardust were to me, those albums where you sit in your bedroom wondering why you don’t fit in with the rest of the world,” Gahan says. “That’s what I was doing with David Bowie at that age. I had found somebody in him that I could understand, where I felt I was part of his world, when I felt alienated. And I think that’s why Depeche Mode appeals to a lot of people. Somehow it’s comforting, like, 'You’re not alone.’ You’re not, of course. None of us are. But music is the thing that crosses all boundaries and brings odd people together.”

It’s a sentiment that also echoed last year when it was announced that Depeche Mode were nominated for the first time to enter the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame but ultimately didn’t make it. “We’re not just part of the fabric, and I’m proud of that,” he says. “We stick out as being something that’s a little bit odd. We knew we weren’t going to get up there with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but someone wrote something like, 'They’re a band wearing eyeliner, writing pervy songs about twisted, weird, depressing subjects.’

"I took that as a massive compliment,” he continues. “Because we are a little odd, and we’ve always appealed to the odd out there, the odd in the world. Our fans and the people like ourselves are a squad that maybe didn’t quite feel right hanging out with others. We’re a little awkward, a little nerdy, a little different. We found each other and it became a gang.” He laughs, looking proud. “And it’s a pretty big gang now.”

(via Depeche Mode’s Dave Gahan on Urgent New LP, Bowie Influence - Rolling Stone)