while wes would like to think that his musical range is about the widest at darden college ( despite knowing hardly anyone on campus that well ), when ed references two of the bands that they listen to, wes has to fake a laugh like he knows what they’re talking about, though he does tuck the two names away to look up as soon as he gets home.
“i don’t like to necessarily limit myself.” wes shrugs, but he nods his head at the same time. “i love indie pop for sure, and if i had to pick one genre to perform for the rest of my life it would probably be that, but my musical preference is pretty broad.” turning towards the jazz section he’s already filtered through, he points in its direction, adding: “i love jazz. and i like variations of jazz, when electronica is incorporated i think the sound can be really special. couldn’t say a bad word about r&b or rap, even though i’m not an avid listener, and while i don’t think i’ve ever been caught buying a country album i don’t hate the genre.” he explains, not realizing how detailed he’s actually making his answer when she likely doesn’t care all that much. “music is about the passion you put into it and i can appreciate how almost any genre can be passionate and elicit an emotional response.”
“all that being said, i fucking hate classical music.” he frowns, eyes darting over to the section in particular like it has personally offended him. “i’m trained in it and my mother would like to say i’m the next vladmir horowitz, it’s the bane of my existence. there’s no passion, it’s all technique.”
While Houston was technically better known for its hip-hop scene, there was no shortage of alternative stuff popping up, and Austin always had live shows happening. Ed had been sneaking off to the bigger city since they’d made their first friend who knew how to drive. It was music that had sparked- no pun intended- her interest in the technical side of things, beyond pointing a camera and capturing a story. So naturally, the record store in California was one of the places she’d wasted her days off in when she was mooching around town before school began.
“Yeah, same.” Ed nodded, about limitations on taste., tipping their head to watch Wes as he went on about the rest of the music he liked, still examining records from the corner of her eye for anything bright, shiny, or cool looking. “I like hip-hop- I think that’s basically a requirement for anyone raised in Houston- and bubblegum pop, too.”
Aha, must be more of a musician than the acting type then. On stage for the opportunity to belt something out, regardless of what it was. Ed quirked a brow when his attitude soured at the mere mention of classical music- something he apaprently hated so much, he had to bring it up. They weren’t sure they agreed with his there’s no passion verdict, but Ed wasn’t here to ruffle any feathers and Wes was entitled to his taste, so whatever. “Right. I mean, I don’t know who Vladmir Horowitz is, but I’m sure you could be a Ralph Castelli type instead. Mothers get over it eventually.” They clacked their tongue stud against the back of their teeth and grinned, “or they give up on you. Either way.” Ed shrugged, sliding a record sleeve out from the stack. “Juno” Ed reads out loud, “by Remi Wolf.” They turn the sleeve around to show it to Wes, “cover is cool. I like the colours. What say you about the music?”
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
izzy806
turnnoffyourmind
