Andulka
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Three Goblin Art
Origami Around
Sade Olutola
Janaina Medeiros
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
#extradirty
PR's Tumblrdome
One Nice Bug Per Day
Discoholic 🪩
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Not today Justin
wallacepolsom
izzy's playlists!
Stranger Things
Claire Keane
No title available
Keni
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Poland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Indonesia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@midwestindie
Flight of Niko - 5:55
Grand Rapids youngins Flight of Niko put on a rip-roaring show reminiscent of Cage the Elephant, the Strokes, or (insert favorite underground surf-punk group here). The disjointed, frank lyrics reflect the bleak Midwest winter, and the frenetic energy works out nicely in trashed basements and skate parks.
when my parents bought me at ikea they thought i was going to be a fake christmas tree
i want you to teach me how to sit still during a monologue about ow where i ran out of nicorette gum and hurt lungs and tossed pebbles at rocks (precarious ones, on edge-feeling, like me, during the holidays, without you.) mostly i missed but sometimes, when i was dragging myself out of my body cherry picked from the tobacco tree, minerals would clink and the smaller ones would bounce to some where that my eyes couldn’t determine in the night-like light time i had too many parts though and the instruction manual was a recording of belly drums and disco balls which don’t make much sound i collected your dream for later but it didn’t need air holes and it escaped
stranded, no encased, yes still, i wriggle into red mud a silent knighted bullet wound candle lit father and his child
i’m going to join the army and become the highest ranking officer and overthrow the government and ill do it all as a worm in the loam and ill do it all holding still, sinking, waiting to become a diamond heath bars by the seashore take my misbuilt tree body apart all the way down to the atomic particles build me as the sand fuck the beach, a lot let me give you head in the passenger seat of spiritual reckoning put me back together around you in your pockets, behind your ears, in your bed build me soft enough to help you moan comfortable build me properly kissing you build me a pleasure that travels from your thighs to the whispers in my ear build me as a mansion, live in it do not give it air holes
Call You Up - Ahh ooh x Muzzy Bear
The Detroit supergroup coalescing around Muzzy Bear really brought the house with this one. The groove is built on down-tempo goodness and interrupted with intense bursts of stop-hop swells and a healthy dose of industrial-esque noise. There’s even a guitar solo over the last chorus! It doesn’t get better than that.
2B2C - The Class Acts
Kzoo college-rock darlings The Class Acts put on a killer cover-set of Strokes music this Halloween, and what could be more appropriate? Their music draws strongly and rock and indie-pop influences, and their high-powered live shows reflect the sort of can-do college mentality you’d expect of high-strung coffee-guzzling college students.
Cloud Nothings - I’m Not Part of Me
An odd experience to listen to a band for years and THEN find out they’re from the Midwest. (Apparently) Local lo-fi noise-pop crooners, Cloud Nothings, have been ripping it from Ohio since 2010
If the Weather Permits - Dad Jeans
The paradox of Dad Jeans is a polished, well-rehearsed, and virtuosic sound that contrasts (and yet somehow reinforces) campy, traditionally-angsty punk/emo lyricism. Seriously, the playing is as melodic as the writing is heart-wrenching.
26 Caroline - Bong Mountain
Roaring guitars and equally intense vocals characterize this angsty, aggressive West Michigan rock n’ roll. “26 Caroline” is characterized by tight guitar hooks and, vivid, chilly Michigan imagery. Plus, these guys put on a hell of a live set.
The Family Almanac - Dream I’m In
Michigan alum and frontwoman Elisabeth Pixley-Fink brings smooth jazz influence to the folk-inspired Family Almanac. In a scene grounded in tradition, their unique instrumentation creates genre-defying, velvety goodness. And besides, who couldn’t love that piano’s timbre?
More Egg Poetry
Like dried yolk, the sort you scrape off with a fingernail, My thoughts lingered.
Mail Order Monsters - Apollyanna
Colorful and complex, Mail Order Monsters create nostalgic yet refreshingly unique 8-bit tunes. They stick with their commodore 64 computers for programming, but the restrictions are totally unapparent in their music, which is filled with complex polyrhythm, sweeping swells, and (what I can only imagine as) intense battle sequences.
Jr. Jr. - Gone
Detroit natives Jr. Jr. hit us once again with their delightful upbeat “if you didn’t see me” personas, this time layering in extended vocal harmony and electronic bliss.
Amateur Eyes - i
This entire album by Ann Arbor natives Amateur Eyes is too excellent to ignore. Sweeping soundscapes, crooning vocals, and folk-like riffs characterize this 10-track Sufjan-esque titled album. Bravo!
Things That Have Nothing to do With Grief
When packing for your first trip to summer camp
Remember twelve things
1, We are artists and musicians
We are dancers and actors
We are students whose sole purpose is to swallow the life that we are given in the days we have to spend here
It cycles through us for all of our days
With it we create every moment
The murmur of conversation between new found friends, the steady pulse of laughter and love
In our final days here it will surge from our mouths in the form of goodbye promises and be offered back to the trees
When we leave, we go everywhere.
2, Our first steps on camp are the most important
With them we find our place amongst the cabins
We meet our bunk mates, our counselors, UD’s and instructors
Walking to Marek for our first meal it’s as if our feet were mallets and the earth was our xylophone
The music of our footsteps carrying in the breeze, harmonizing with the melodies of Stewart at sunset
The trees sprout from the sand to hear our chorus and to watch over us on our journey
Trees. Sand. Trees. Sand.
If on your trek through the forest you don’t get two substantial shoes full of sand you must not be walking far enough
3, The day you wake up to the six o’clock alarm and race to the tiny shower stalls is the day you become a camper
Your initiation is withstanding the frost tinged sanity that comes dripping from the shower head
Your prize is the polo on your shoulders and the badge over your heart
The badge that projects so much about yourself to those around you
Display it with pride because you have won it out of shear dimensionality
Show it boldly to the lake and to the trees
So that years from now they will still remember your name
4, Your classes, your rehearsals
Walking to and from you feel as if your time here could never end
Main Camp, Rec Time
In a sea of stars, constellations are made every time you say hello
Their website says they recognize the importance of the individual
But we are so much more important as a whole
Can you feel it?
Can you feel the leaves in the trees trembling with the greatness of our assemblage?
I said can you feel it?
The way the sand lets out a contented sigh right before it tucks each one of us into bed at night.
5, In the words of a poet
We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams
Everything we have to give is given here
And in return we are intrusted with a future that is limitless
6, This camp has been here 47 years
It has served more than 300,000 campers
And still each camper’s footprint is unique in all the world
When I was thirteen
I took my first steps in the sand
The footsteps roaring like cannon shots
Will-Will-Will you walk to main camp with me
Tuck your polo in
Get some ice cream
Talk with me, Talk with me about whatever you feel is relevant
Artists turning blanks sheets to monuments
Musicians singing out their hearts through their instruments
Dancers holding their heads high
Actors reciting lines to their favorite tales
Brilliance in the form of laughter echoes through the camp
The exhilaration pulsing, pulsing
People back home ask me how long I am staying
And I say, “Not long enough”
7, The list they send you of things to pack was never meant to be an catalogue of items to bring with you
But rather a set of directions on how to best enjoy the things you bring back
8, I bring back an image of a painting by a young girl from Cadillac
The brushstrokes capturing the purity of the sand through her fingertips
9, I bring back the voice of a boy from Chicago
The voice that cracked with tears on his last day
10, I bring back my one true wish come to life in the form of a badge over my heart and a forest all around
The trees that stand tall beside me will remember my legacy here
As they will remember yours for years to come
When we go at the end of camp, we do not leave and forget
Because how can you forget a place that remembers you back?
11, Camp ends not because there aren’t any days left, but because the brilliance of its campers can only be contained for so long
12, Final Sunday comes and with it the reality that our time here is over.
But when you, my friend, go forth
I will not cry for you
I will run to the tallest tree I can find
And share with it all of my memories
That way, if you ever come back, this will still be
Your home
~Mathew Courtade
Performed at the Session 1 Blue Lake Camper Talent Show 2013
Air is the Arche - Overexposed
Air is the Arche is an excellent three-piece Detroit Metro band that put on a hell of a show in Mount Pleasant last week. Frontwoman Kameryn Mathewson’s voice and songwriting are equally excellent and expressive.
Hey, our demo is still FREE online. One of these days we will actually get into a studio…
Breakfast
On thicker mornings, (when tension balanced on lines through the air) the eggs came as such. It would fall (with a crack) onto the pan, and sizzle in roiling butter until the noise deafened. Laughter dripped from her lips like the yolks from whites. They were always a bit runny.
