For this installment of Your Favorite Band, Emily Beanblossom from Ruby Fray and Christmas finds what she's looking for with the help of Martin Rev.
I'm taking some time off from the wanderlust wasteland they call “a job." It’s for dreamers! It’s for snobs. Spandex equestrian salmon pink pants and a cut-off t-shirt with our Lord and Savior bleeding from the temples fits like a dream and will carry all this weight to the subway, where I will sit with arms folded in my lap. I am going to a show and I need someone to see this hot mess. I climb the stairs to the street, there are men in Adidas jogging suits descending and one of them has a greasy bag with something in it and it touches my elbow when we pass. They are totally not headed to the show I know, right? I feel like 1981 again, it’s real! Somehow church bells are still chiming, but that doesn’t make sense why they would be. I took the right turn onto the right street and I’m feeling pretty good about it.The building I need to get to, I can see it but these origami streets from 1948 form a shamrock so I cross through yards and under highway overpasses because I know if I just walk straight towards the building that I see before me, eventually I can get to it, despite civil engineering. I step on a pair of totally ugly sunglasses but the break it makes was the best, the lenses are to die for. The sound was THE sound I’ve been waiting to hear, like it had been a condensed version of what I am about to pay three (insert appropriate national tender here) to see.The building is finally within reasonable distance. I start running towards it. I’m back to a basic street, not quite a neighborhood, and not a highway. There are no trees or other tall buildings.No one is around to see me behave like a fucking freak so I figure it’s fine to run. Deep rhythms yo I can hear them! It’s time to pick up the pace.I enter the building. And you know what? For my level of anticipation, I was expecting to be denied entry. But I entered a small cinderblock room with fourteen bored know-nothings who look real fabulous and hot in their seapunk attire, and then two nerds who are having a conniption fit; they love it. I love it. I love him. He should never stop playing. Sweatpants, a visor, a grin, mystery sunglasses and his head is rolling back. He loves this. If this really was the 1981 I’m hoping for, his hands wouldn’t even be on the keys but in fists hovering all witchlike over them. What a spell that’s in store. Well wait, no he’s done. Show’s over, he’s done. He packs up his keyboard and synths and stuff, I don’t know what it all is actually."Girl, what are you doing back here.""Tryin' to get something. You know?""Yeah. We’ll. You’re not going to find it back here!"He was right. So I went home and made love to this guy I found and thought about those cheesy beats. Riding pants were a mistake though, it’s like 108 degrees. And I certainly wasn’t born before 1981!!!Previously: Your Favorite Band - Dave MustainePs. Emily sells the best SOAPS.

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