Podcasts about struts

We're shaking things up on The Struts Life this week as I sit down with our resident Rock and Roll Archeologist, Christian Swain, for a deep dive to answer the burning question: is the rock music resurgence finally here to stay? We're gazing into our crystal ball for 2026, tracking the sonic boom that The Struts helped ignite over a decade ago and debating which acts are destined for stadium glory. From the theatrical mystery of masked collectives to the raw energy of post-punk revivalists, we're breaking down the Spotify data and the live-show lore to find the future icons of the genre. Who made our cut for the next big thing, and which underground gems—including a certain "still alive" groove trio—do you absolutely need on your radar right now? Y ou'll have to tune in to find out which artists are truly ready to carry the torch. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textWelcome to Guess the Year! This is an interactive, competitive podcast series where you will be able to play along and compete against your fellow listeners. Here is how the scoring works:10 points: Get the year dead on!7 points: 1-2 years off4 points: 3-5 years off1 point: 6-10 years offGuesses can be emailed to drandrewmay@gmail.com or texted using the link at the top of the show notes (please leave your name).I will read your scores out before the next episode, along with the scores of your fellow listeners! Please email your guesses to Andrew no later than 12pm EST on the day the next episode posts if you want them read out on the episode (e.g., if an episode releases on Monday, then I need your guesses by 12pm EST on Wednesday; if an episode releases on Friday, then I need your guesses by 12 pm EST on Monday). Note: If you don't get your scores in on time, they will still be added to the overall scores I am keeping. So they will count for the final scores - in other words, you can catch up if you get behind, you just won't have your scores read out on the released episode. All I need is your guesses (e.g., Song 1 - 19xx, Song 2 - 20xx, Song 3 - 19xx, etc.). Please be honest with your guesses! Best of luck!!The answers to today's ten songs can be found below. If you are playing along, don't scroll down until you have made your guesses. .....Have you made your guesses yet? If so, you can scroll down and look at the answers......Okay, answers coming. Don't peek if you haven't made your guesses yet!.....Intro song: Ready Teddy by Little Richard (1956)Song 1: Dixie Chicken by Little Feat (1973)Song 2: It's a Wonderful Life by Sparklehorse (2001)Song 3: Could Have Been Me by The Struts (2013)Song 4: A Milli by Lil Wayne (2008)Song 5: I Am a Pilgrim by The Byrds (1968)Song 6: Rag Mop by The Ames Brothers (1950)Song 7 : Travelin' Alone by Lil' Son Jackson (1951)Song 8: Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston (1987)Song 9: Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi (2019)Song 10: North Carolina by Little Chief (2013)

Are you ready to dive deep into the archives of rock 'n' roll history with me? On this week's episode of The Struts Life, I'm bringing back the fan-favorite WAPS for a no-holds-barred dissection of the fifty—yes, fifty!—bands that have dared to open for The Struts over the last decade. We aren't just reading a list; we are decoding the secret formula of what actually makes a killer opening act capable of matching Luke Spiller's electric energy, and dropping some seriously hot takes on who brought the thunder and who just brought the noise. From the chaotic genius of Starcrawler to the infectious vibes of Des Rocs, and a few controversial opinions that might just divide the Strutters community (we're looking at you, Purple Rain haters), we are covering it all. Plus, we're placing our bets on the absolute dream lineup for a hypothetical 2026 tour—did your favorite underground band make our cut, or did we leave them in the dust? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome back to The Struts Life! This week, we are saying "Hola!" as Gethin returns from a whirlwind weekend at the Corona Capital Festival in Mexico City. It's been nine years since The Struts played there, and the trip was nothing short of chaotic. Join Gethin and Leah as they dive into the reality of festival logistics, from navigating local protests and 5 AM call times to the panic of a mid-soundcheck power outage. Gethin shares the story of a hilariously loud lunch at a local restaurant, the "champagne problems" of travel, and the challenge of performing on a battered rental drum kit that sounded more like kitchenware than an instrument. Find out how the band handled a frantic schedule with a skeleton crew, why a Radio Disney interview left Gethin confused, and get the secret ingredient to his infamous "Crack and Cheese" Thanksgiving recipe as he heads to New Orleans. Plus, get a quick update on Luke Spiller's solo tour and the details on the band's upcoming makeup show in Seattle. You won't want to miss this one! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Mike Grimes, is co-owner of  Grimey's Records which he founded in 1999 with the 8,000 LPs and CDs he amassed over years of working record retail and music distribution jobs. Grimey's is considered by many the premiere record store in Nashville, TN and has been recognized by many as an international favorite. Mike is also co-owner of The Basement and The Basement East, two high profile live music venues in Music City, The Basement, celebrating 15 years in operation and The Basement East, 5 years in 2020.  The OG Basement, a 150 capacity room has been an incubator of local and National upcoming talent since 2005 hosting early performances by Mumford and Sons, The Lumineers, Kacey Musgraves, Brothers Osborne and landing special one off appearances with Keith Urban and (in partnership with Grimey's) Metallica who performed a secret show that was performed and released as Metallica ‘Live At Grimey's'. The Basement East is a 600 capacity room who's profile has risen quickly hosting shows with The Struts, Hold Steady, Krungbin, John Prine, Kris Kristofferson, Luke Combs, Old Dominion and many more. Mike is a husband, father and graduating member  of the Leadership Music Program, class of 2010.https://www.thebasementnashville.com/https://m.facebook.com/guiltynashville/about/?ref=page_internal&mt_nav=0https://www.facebook.com/michael.j.grimes.3Host - Trey Mitchelltreymitchellphotography IGfeeding_the_senses_unsensored on IGtrey mitchell: facebook.com/profile.php?id=100074368084848For sponsorship Information or submitting for interviews -  ftsunashville@gmail.comTheme Song - Damien HorneTake It From Me @damienhorne

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Today's show was totally not garbage. Guest appearances from Kevin Ryan & H. Foley, Vincent D'Onofrio, and Luke Spiller highlight the program along with a special concert announcement. (00:00:00) News & Sports(00:10:20) Entertainment News(00:45:31) Camp Out Totals and More(01:14:01) Fox Good Day, Bizarre File(01:28:17) Are You Garbage - Kevin Ryan and H. Foley in Studio(01:57:58) Vincent D'Onfrio Calls in(02:37:19) Bizarre File(02:45:26) Hollywood Trash & Music News(03:15:45) Wrap UpSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Welcome back to The Struts Life! It feels like it's been ages, but I finally got the chance to sit down and catch up with the one and only Adam Slack after a truly wild couple of months. What's it really like to be in the room for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, just feet away from legends like Elton John and Stevie Wonder? Adam spills all the behind-the-scenes details, including which powerful tribute performance moved him to tears. Plus, we get a much-anticipated and exclusive update on the writing process for Album 5—you'll want to hear why he feels this is the most inspired and creative the band has ever been. As the musical landscape shifts back towards guitar rock, are the stars finally aligning for The Struts? We dive deep into that and get the scoop on the upcoming special shows, from an intimate night at the Grammy Museum to the legendary annual Christmas bash at the Harry Dog. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The Mac Saturn guys are back and making a racket! It was great to reconnect with Carson, Angelo, Mike, and Ian.The band has had an unusual start. Sidelined by the pandemic, then, a now ex-member sentenced to jail for child porn, the guys are focused on another chance to prove they belong in the big leagues, on the big stages.They sat down with me earlier this week to discuss everything happening with Mac Saturn..."It's Been A Hell Of A Year"With all that's happened in the past, I just asked them: How's the state of the band? Singer, Carson Macc said, "Well, it's been one hell of a year, year and a half, I'd say. We've spent a lot of time together. You know, we've been brought closer as brothers, and we've been doing a lot of writing. We've got a lot of new songs that we're trying out on stage, as well as the songs from Hard to Sell that we still love playing. And we're just trying to push our sound, push ourselves, and push each other to be the best we can be. And we're excited to bring that back to people. But, it's been quite a year." Bassist Ian Lukas piped in on how much they've been inspired. "It's been such a terrific period for really being inspired by our audience. Really plotting, you know, what we want to come back with, what kind of, like, direction we want to go come back with. And we're just super psyched with how it's going so far."The guys have primarily been playing smaller shows to get back in the groove. Something that Carson said is a chance to connect with the fans. "People were playing to, these crowds that are extremely engaged. And we get to engage with every single person. We kind of lost that a little bit in some of the shows when we opened for Dirty Honeyand the Struts, obviously, at that level. You know, there's a few people in the back that you can't really make eye contact with. But on these shows we've been playing, we are connecting with every single person in the club. And it's an exciting thing for us. And it really is informing us a lot on the songs that we've been working."Working With Al Sutton, Herschel Boone, and Marlon YoungThe guys are no strangers to Rust Belt studio, helmed by the legendary Al Sutton. I asked what it's like to work with him. "Well, I will say, you know, Al is a big part of it. But Marlon Young and Herschel Boone. The other two guys. You know, Marlon's definitely in the music world and in the guitar world. And Herschel, me, and Herschel, definitely lock in on the vocals. And he works with the guys on the backgrounds. He gets these guys to sound like a 35-piece choir on the background." Carson went on, "It's crazy. So I would say it's definitely a team effort. But Al is just so passionate. And he is so, he's matured so much since we've even started working with him. And the process that we have with him now, there's so much trust involved. And there's such a free communication that he really lets us bring in ideas and see where they lead to. And, you know, he reaches out to people that he knows and tries to get them involved as well."For those who don't know, Marlon and Herschel have been in Kid Rock's Twisted Brown Trucker band for over two decades.Being A Detroit BandI asked the guys about representing Detroit rock abroad. Guitarist Mike Moody said, "We're so proud of Detroit. And it's such a cool conversation starter, too, because we are repping it as much as we possibly can. So I think a lot of people have really cool experiences with something that they love from Detroit. And we love talking about that."Angelo piped in, "Everyone's got some artists they love from Detroit. He said that even a city like Nashville has many musicians from this area. "Well, I think we wouldn't be who we are without where we are always. You know, we're very in tune with our environment, just all the guys in general. And I think a real, true no frills band has to be affected by where they are, you know? And I'm just so thankful that it's this city because what can be combined in this city, not only music-wise, but style-wise, vibe-wise, energy-wise, hustle-wise, what you can combine here, you can only do here. It's one of one place, and it makes us want to be one of one. And I, you know, as much as I owe everything to the band and the producers and everything, we owe just as much to the city for making us want to be who we are and want to be a Detroit thing," said Carson.Ian chimed in, "It's a privilege to be a part of the music scene in Detroit, and take that on the road."Playing Saint Andrew's Hall On November 15thIt's a big show for the boys, as drummer Angelo Coppala explained, "It's my dad's birthday. There's a lot going on. We got to kill it. We got to do it. So we're excited for that. And we've got our eyes on that target. But it's all, it all feels like the first time. But it's also like the first time with all the knowledge that you have. So we're really excited to take different steps than we did last time when we were kind of at this point."I'm glad the boys are back. They're good dudes, and I hope this time they're around for a long time!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Welcome back to The Struts Life! As a lifelong reader, there's nothing I love more than a fantastic book recommendation, and this week, bassist Jed Elliott is opening up his personal library to share the top five essential books he most often "prescribes" to people. This isn't just a simple list of favorites; it's a deeply personal literary journey where each recommendation is tied to a pivotal moment. Discover the surreal and mind-bending novel suggested by a mysterious performer on tour in France, the powerful book that gave him the courage to take a massive career leap, and the only story that has ever made him cry mid-flight. If you're looking for your next great read and want a glimpse into the art that inspires The Struts, you'll have to listen to the full podcast episode to add these life-changing titles to your own collection. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We continue to pay tribute, laugh, and cry, remembering Philadelphia legend Pierre Robert. We hear from rockstars, friends, and listeners. (00:00:00) Remembering Pierre(00:19:11) 6ABC Check in, Listeners Share Stories(00:47:53) Welcome Home Montage, Jim Sutcliffe from Live Nation (01:24:04) Billy Corrigan from The Smashing Pumpkins, Adam Slack of the Struts(02:09:35) Jacoby Shadix, Graham Nash(02:36:53) Former Y100 and WMMR Staff Share Stories(02:59:51) Kathy Romano Shares Pierre Stories (03:13:39) Wrapping UpSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This week on The Struts Life, we are joined by an absolute icon, a woman who didn't just witness rock and roll history—she helped create it. The one and only Pamela Des Barres, legendary author of I'm With The Band, rocker, and cultural trailblazer, sits down with us for a conversation that pulls back the velvet curtain on the golden age of the Sunset Strip. What does the woman who has seen and heard it all really think about the state of music today? What is it about Luke Spiller and The Struts that captured her attention, and what secret did she reveal after her one-on-one podcast with him that left her feeling... depressed? You think you know the stories, but you've never heard them like this. Don't miss this incredible journey through the past, present, and future of rock with a true queen of the scene. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

MUSICSammy Hagar has commented on the arrest last Saturday of 58-year old Ronnie Putnam, an overweight Illinois man who claimed to be Hagar at several Mount Vernon, Illinois-area businesses, including two banks and a vape shop where he attempted to open accounts under the name Sammy Hagar Enterprises, LLC. https://www.instagram.com/p/DQKoZ39CJPy/The Doors‘ 2009 documentary, When You're Strange, will be shown again in theaters on December 4th and 6th in celebration of the band's 60th anniversary. Narrated by Johnny Depp, the film has been remastered in 4K, with a new introduction from surviving Doors members John Densmore and Robby Krieger. Premiering at the showings will be the new performance of “Riders on the Storm,” which was done in partnership with Playing for Change, and features 20 musicians, including Lukas and Micah Nelson, and Rami Jaffee from the Foo Fighters. Tickets are on sale at WhenYoureStrangeMovie.com.Iron Maiden have announced North American dates for their Run for Your Lives tour. With Megadeth opening and Anthrax on select dates, it will run from August 29th in Toronto through October 2nd in Mexico City with 10 U.S. dates in between. Tickets go on sale on October 31st at IronMaiden.com. Britney Spears has reportedly been "spiraling" since Kevin Federline released his tell-all memoir. She was seen behaving erratically at a restaurant Wednesday night, and on her drive home. https://pagesix.com/2025/10/23/celebrity-news/video-shows-britney-spears-driving-erratically-after-night-out-as-she-spirals-over-ex-kevin-federlines-bombshell-memoir/The Songwriters Hall of Fame has announced its slate of nominees for its Class of 2026. In the Performing Songwriters category you have:Gerry Beckley and Dewey Bunnell - AmericaDavid Byrne - Talking HeadsRichard Carpenter - The CarpentersHarry Wayne Casey - KC of KC and the Sunshine BandRandy Bachman and Burton Cummings - The Guess WhoGene Simmons and Paul Stanley - KISSKenny LogginsSarah McLachlanPink - real name Alecia B. MooreBoz ScaggsLL Cool J - real name James Todd SmithTaylor SwiftCharlotte Caffey, Kathy Valentine and Jane M. Wiedlin - The Go-Go'sIn order to be nominated, a songwriter with a catalog of notable songs qualifies for induction 20 years after their first commercial release of a song. Eligible voting members will have until midnight ET on December 4th to turn in their ballots, with their choices of up to three nominees in each of the songwriter and performing songwriter categories. The inductees are usually announced in January followed by the induction ceremony in June in New York City. RIP: Dave Ball from Soft Cell died Wednesday. He was 66. The producer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist passed away in his sleep on Wednesday. https://consequence.net/2025/10/dave-ball-soft-cell-dead/NEW RELEASES TODAY IN RECORD STORES AND STREAMING:Bon Jovi's Forever (Legndary Edition) features guest vocals from Bruce Springsteen, Jelly Roll, Joe Elliott and more.Five Finger Death Punch's Best Of Volume 2 sees them re-record more songs from their catalog, including "The End" with Babymetal.The third album from Wolfgang Van Halen's project Mammoth's is callled The End.Can't Get Enough: A Tribute to Bad Company includes covers done by Slash Featuring Myles Kennedy and The Conspirators, Def Leppard's Joe Elliott and Phil Collen, Halestorm, Blackberry Smoke, and The Struts, with Bad Co.'s Paul Rodgers and Simon Kirke lending a hand on three songs.Serj Tankian dips into his archives for Covers, Collaborations & Collages. TVSUNDAY PRIMETIME:It: Welcome To Derry (HBO - series premiere)New to stream:Mayor of Kingstown (Paramount+ - season 4 premiere) The final episode of Netflix's Stranger Things will air on the streaming platform and in movie theaters. https://gizmodo.com/report-stranger-things-may-put-its-final-episode-in-theaters-after-all-2000675020 HBO Max has introduced a new feedback system allowing users to mark titles as "Love," "Like," or "Not for Me" for personalized recommendations. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/hbo-max-introduces-first-feedback-system-1236407339/ MOVING ON INTO MOVIE NEWS:IN THEATERS:Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere (Jeremy Allen White, Jeremy Strong)Regretting You (Mckenna Grace, Allison Williams, Dave Franco) Jeremy Allen White is finally a high school graduate! https://people.com/jeremy-allen-white-34-just-received-high-school-diploma-11835490 Johnny Depp will star as Ebenezer Scrooge in an upcoming new, darker take on Charles Dickens‘ A Christmas Carol, directed by horror filmmaker Ti West and produced by Paramount Pictures. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/johnny-depp-returning-to-big-studio-movies-christmas-carol-1236408638/ AND FINALLYFoo Fighters are heading back on the road next summer for a stadium tour.AND THAT IS YOUR CRAP ON CELEBRITIESFollow The Rizzuto Show @rizzshow on all your favorite social media, including YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and more. Connect with The Rizzuto Show online at 1057thepoint.com/RizzShowSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

As we officially close the book on the incredible Everybody Wants 10th Anniversary Tour, it's only fitting we end with a final, behind-the-scenes debrief from the one and only Gethin Davies. Fresh off the road, Geth joins me to pull back the curtain on a tour that was more than just a celebration—it was a revelation. What really happened in San Diego that brought the last decade full circle in a way no one planned? Which fan questions during the new Q&A sessions left the band speechless, and which ones will they never, ever answer again? From the grueling schedules and near-disasters of early van life to the Texas barbecue obsession that took over the bus, Gethin shares the untold stories you won't hear anywhere else. But most importantly, discover how this nostalgic journey back in time has unexpectedly ignited the creative fire for album number five, setting the stage for the next ten years of The Struts. You think you know the story of this tour? Think again. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

After celebrating ten years of Everybody Wants, we're diving back to the very beginning. Forget "Could Have Been Me"; this week on The Struts Life, Luke Spiller reveals the true origin story of the band, hidden within the anthem that started it all: "Where Did She Go." Luke shares the wild tale of how a drunken, teenage walk home in Torquay birthed the melody that became the band's essential DNA, ultimately leading to the first record deal. Beyond the deep cuts and formative rock history, Luke gives an exclusive, detailed look at the creative direction for the new Struts album—a commitment to pure, cohesive, "glam stomping" sing-alongs inspired by the band's earliest tracks. Plus, hear the latest on Luke's mostly sold-out solo acoustic tour and find out what really went down when The Struts recently celebrated their heroes, Def Leppard, at Joe Elliott's Hollywood star reveal. If you want the full, electrifying story of fate, ambition, and earworm choruses, you know where to click. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

An airhacks.fm conversation with Gabriel Pop (@vwggolf3) about: Romanian communist-era Felix HC91 computer with Z80 processor and 64KB RAM, learning programming through Basic and cassette tape storage, attending specialized informatics high school class in northern Romania, teachers from former communist computing center, learning Pascal and building word-guessing game for graduation project, pressure and competitiveness in academic environment, entering Cluj-Napoca Technical University computer science program as second-ranked student, studying in English-taught program, learning Java through Bruce Eckel's Thinking in Java book, working as Java developer during university using German method names for Frankfurt-based company, using Struts framework with Hibernate and JSPs for web development, joining Betfair.com as early employee in Romanian office, founding Transylvania Java User Group in 2008 with iconic Dracula-themed Duke logo, organizing 60+ meetups with 120-150 regular attendees, receiving support from international JUG leaders like Antonio Gonçalves and Michael Hüttermann, transitioning to engineering leadership roles, working at various companies including Uber Amsterdam managing cash payment systems, health tech startup using PHP, Catawiki marketplace using Ruby on Rails, currently working at AWS on CodeBuild and CodePipeline, discussing need for corretto 25 support in AWS services, importance of Java LTS versions for developers Gabriel Pop on twitter: @vwggolf3

Luke Spiller and Marc LaBelle join Eddie Trunk to discuss their bands' joint tour and musical journeys. They dive into their Bad Company tribute contributions, with The Struts' 'Rock and Roll Fantasy' and Dirty Honey's 'Rock Steady' releases. Luke shares the emotional story behind Brian May's collaboration on the 10th anniversary version of 'Could Have Been Me,' while both frontmen reflect on casino gigs, audience demographics, and the challenges of creating setlists. The conversation reveals their musical influences, with Marc citing Steven Tyler and Luke drawing inspiration from James Brown, offering listeners an intimate look at two of rock's most promising young bands. Following that, former White Lion frontman Mike Tramp joins Eddie to discuss his current musical journey, including his 'Songs of White Lion' album series where he re-records the band's classic tracks. Tramp opens up about his complex relationship with guitarist Vito Bratta, explaining why a reunion never materialized after the band's 1991 breakup. He shares stories about adapting to performing White Lion's music at 64, his renewed approach to the stage, and how he's found peace with carrying the band's legacy forward. The conversation also touches on the upcoming Volume 3 release featuring deep cuts like 'Fight to Survive' and 'Cherokee,' with special guest appearances. Catch Eddie Trunk every M-F from 3:00-5:00pm ET on Trunk Nation on SiriusXM Faction Talk Channel 103.And don't forget to follow Eddie on X and Instagram!Follow the link to get your free 3-month trial of SiriusXM: http://siriusxm.com/eddietrunk Find all episodes of Trunk Nation: https://siriusxm.com/trunknation Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

What happens when fandom turns into a full-blown lifestyle? This week on The Struts Life podcast, we finally welcome the man, the myth, the legend— Wayne-Anthony P. Soltis aka WAPS! Having attended nearly 98 Struts shows, WAPS shares the wild, decade-long journey that started with a single $1.05 ticket 10 years ago. We get into the unexpected chaos: from secretive pre-show meet-and-greets and the truth behind the infamous Pittsburgh fire, to matching Luke Spiller's energy on stage (and surviving the world's sketchiest truck stop). Whether you're a long-time listener or a new member of The Struts family, you won't want to miss these epic, charmingly chaotic tour memories. The Struts Life: Listen now and discover why it's always a Matter of Time until you run into the incredible Struts fan community. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We re-cap our concert going experience for the Struts and Dirty Honey tour with special guest and host of the Struts Life Podcast Leah Jones. WE NEED YOUR HELP!! It's quick, easy, and free - Please consider doing one or all of the following to help grow our audience: Leave Us A Five Star Review in one of the following places: Apple Podcast Podchaser Spotify Connect with us  Email us growinuprock@gmail.com Contact Form  Like and Follow Us on FaceBook Follow Us on Twitter Leave Us A Review On Podchaser Join The Growin' Up Rock Loud Minority Facebook Group Do You Spotify? Then Follow us and Give Our Playlist a listen. We update it regularly with kick ass rock n roll Spotify Playlist Buy and Support Music From The Artist We Discuss On This Episode Growin' Up Rock Amazon Store Pantheon Podcast Network The Struts Life Podcast Music in this Episode Provided by the Following: The Struts And Dirty Honey If you dig what you are hearing, go pick up the album or some merch., and support these artists. A Special THANK YOU to Restrayned for the Killer Show Intro and transition music!! Restrayned Website Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We are somehow entering the final stretch of the current leg of The Struts tour! This week, our guitarist, Adam Slack, joins us from a secret, highly unconventional location backstage at the Denver Show to discuss a truly epochal moment: finally seeing the legendary Oasis reunion show during their mid-tour break. Adam rates the concert as a Top 3 lifetime experience and gives us the ultimate fan perspective, including who they spotted among the celebrity-packed crowd. What really happened in Los Angeles? And what does the overwhelming success of the reunion mean for a potential new Oasis album? Join us as we trade stories from the road, anticipate The Struts' imminent writing hiatus, and delve into the pure, unadulterated escape only a live music experience can provide. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The band the Struts play LIVE, Cousin Brucie, Gerry Cooney, Bernard Hopkins, Mike Bocchetti, Craig Gass, Vic Henley and Chuck Nice 3/28The final year of my radio journey holds a special place in my heart, made even more poignant by the loss of my cherished friends, Carl Ruiz and Vic Henley. Reflecting on that time, I rediscovered the pure passion and exhilaration that drew me to radio in the first place. Amidst the chaos and challenges, we found endless moments of hilarity and camaraderie. Alongside Carl, Vic, and Sherrod Small, we shared unforgettable experiences both on and off the airwaves, our tight-knit bond shining through every episode. That year also marked Carl Ruiz's meteoric rise to stardom, inspiring me to launch the Opie Radio podcast with him. I'm immensely grateful to Erock, Clubsoda Kenny, Paul, and Louis for joining us on this wild ride. Get ready to dive into the rollercoaster of emotions—the highs, the lows, and the laugh-out-loud moments—that defined my last year in radio. 

As autumn rolls in, The Struts Life dives into a moment of change—both in season and in the band's journey. From celebratory nights on tour to star-studded encounters at Oasis gigs, Jed takes us inside life on the road and, more intriguingly, into what comes next for The Struts. With the 10-year chapter closing, the conversation teases fresh music, new creative rituals, and a call for fans to help shape how the band stays connected during this so-called “creative retreat.” It's intimate, it's electric, and it hints at the future without ever giving too much away. If you want to be among the first to glimpse what The Struts are building for the next decade, this episode is the one you don't want to miss. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week, we're finally taking you on the road with us as we experienced the electrifying 10th Anniversary Everybody Wants tour in Pittsburgh. We're pulling back the curtain on our entire day, sharing what it was really like to see The Struts breathe new life into this iconic album ten years on. But we didn't just watch the show—we got to chat with some amazing fans right before their Q&A to find out which song is the unexpected sleeper hit of the tour, and we even snagged some time with incredible tour photographer Madeline Northway to hear about the whirlwind of being on her first tour ever. From backstage stories to front-row energy, it was a night that proved this band is more powerful than ever, and we're bringing you right into the heart of it. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Chasta & Huey talk about their weekend including Huey going to see The Struts & Dirty Honey at Ace of Spades in Sacramento and Billy Idol & Joan Jett at The Greek Theatre in Berkeley. Plus, they review a list of life choices people regret the most. Lastly, on "Huey Help" they read a listener's email asking why does her husband get a social life and she doesn't. Connect with Chasta & Huey: Linktree: https://linktr.ee/chastaandhuey YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@ChastaAndHuey Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/2kdozplGAWNhd6zehEBzW5 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chastaandhuey Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chastaandhuey Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/chastaandhuey Thank you for the support.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Chasta & Huey talked to The Struts frontman Luke Spiller about the band's upcoming tour with Dirty Honey, The Struts celebrating the 10th anniversary of their album "Everybody Wants", working with Queen guitarist Brian May to reimagine their song "Could Have Been Me", his solo album and his relationship with his bandmates. The Struts & Dirty Honey will be at Ace of Spades in Sacramento on Saturday, September 13th. For tickets go to: ticketmaster.com For more info go to: aceofspadessac.com The Struts have re-released their single "Could Have Been Me" featuring Queen guitarist Brian May. The Struts recorded a cover of Bad Company's "Rock N Roll Fantasy" that will be featured on the upcoming album "Can’t Get Enough: A Tribute to Bad Company", due out on October 24th, 2025. Luke Spiller's debut solo album "Love Will Probably Kill Me Before Cigarettes and Wine" is out now.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

If you're tired of magazines, you might be suffering from debilitating Mix-a-Lot-ism, a newly discovered illness affecting adults aged 18-65 all across the world! And this Maximum Utcast might be the thing to cure what ails you. Zoey and Jonathan are haunted by a few ghosts on this episode as they discuss American Gladiators on the NES before getting to the bottom of swinging mechanics in video games...are they really gone for good? Later, Daniel chats with Allen Ortega from Mob Entertainment (Poppy Playtime) about his love of the Borderlands series and how it helped him realize a lot about himself and get his foot in the door of the games industry.0:00:00 - 1-900-MIX-A-LOT0:08:03 - A Real Rashomon Moment0:11:10 - Kusoge: American Gladiators0:30:39 - Can a Game Like Borderlands Shape Your Entire Life? with Allen Ortega1:22:21 - Wrap Up/Plugs/Thanks Patrons!1:26:55 - You Better Be WorkingAllen on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/kenjisalk.bsky.socialMob Entertainment on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/mobentertainment.comZoey on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/adzuken.bsky.socialJonathan on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/tronknotts.bsky.socialDaniel on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/douibyorthst.bsky.socialMaximum Utcast on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/ttwav.bsky.socialMaximum Utmost on website: https://maxutmost.com/Maximum Utcast's Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ttwavMaximum Utmost's Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/adzuken

The celebration for the new version of "Could Have Been Me" featuring the legendary Brian May isn't over yet! If you've seen that stunning, hand-drawn single cover of Luke and Brian shredding together, you've probably wondered about the story behind it. This week, I'm sitting down with the incredible artist herself, Sarah Rugg, and trust me, the tale of how her art went from a personal project to the official cover is one you have to hear to believe. What starts as a superfan's tribute takes a wild turn involving a casual chat with a certain Queen guitarist and ends with a message from Luke Spiller that changed everything. How does that even happen? Tune in to hear the full, unbelievable story behind the art that brought two rock worlds together. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

After almost a three week accidental hiatus, I'm back with a slightly weird and slightly short episode! In this one I backtrack to correct my thinking on the recent releases by Coheed & Cambria and HAIM, then I talk about Mastodon, the Struts, and a bunch of Oktoberfest beers. I had fun. Maybe you can too! Blog: http://emptychecking.blogspot.com  Bandcamp: http://derekbrink.bandcamp.com  email: db@derekbrink.com  Time Index (sorry this is a little concise this week): 0:00 - Intro 7:41 - Vagabond 8:11 - Recent Listening - Including Coheed & Cambria, HAIM, Mastodon, and The Struts 31:11 - Jean Jacket 31:42 - Oktoberfest Beers! 46:00 - Slainte 46:30 - Outro

Hello, and welcome to an edition of The Struts Life you won't want to miss! You've heard the rumors, and they're true: the one and only Sir Brian May of Queen has joined The Struts for an unbelievable new version of "Could Have Been Me." But the story of how this dream collaboration came to be is even wilder than you can imagine. Ever wonder what happens when another rock icon decides to play matchmaker? Or what it's like to step into a legend's personal studio to reimagine one of your biggest songs? We sat down with the boys backstage on tour for an exclusive, in-depth look at the entire journey, from a simple text message that started it all to the unbelievable moment they filmed the music video together. This is the story you've been waiting for, filled with moments that will make you feel like you were right there in the room. You think you know how it happened? Trust me, you have no idea. Come join this rock and roll journey. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week's episode is buzzing with milestones, surprises, and raw honesty straight from the road. Fresh off the 10th anniversary Everybody Wants tour, we dive into the energy of sold-out shows, the rush of playing the album front-to-back, and the unforgettable moment when a fan guitarist stole the spotlight in Chicago. Adam checks in from backstage at The Fillmore in Charlotte, reflecting on the highs, the tough nights—including a candid story of battling a panic attack on stage—and the unshakable power of connecting with fans through music. Plus, we tease the massive news that's shaking the Struts universe: a reimagined version of Could Have Been Me featuring none other than Queen's legendary Sir Brian May. With surprise guests, fan moments turned viral, and a setlist packed with anthems like “Put Your Hands Up,” “Primadonna,” and “One Night Only,” this episode captures the magic and chaos of a band in full stride. If you think you know what to expect from The Struts, think again—this conversation proves the best is still to come. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Step back into 2015 with us as The Struts relive the summer when Everybody Wants first hit U.S. shores. In this nostalgic episode, Adam and Luke crack open their old Spotify playlists, revealing a mix as eclectic as Paolo Nutini, Johnny Cash, Queen, and Arctic Monkeys. They revisit the TV obsessions of the time—Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, and the cultural frenzy around Making a Murderer—while laughing at the questionable movies that defined that year (yes, even 50 Shades of Grey). Most importantly, they share their raw first impressions of America: the chaos of Hollywood versus the dream of late-night TV, tea parties with fans in San Diego, and the wide-eyed thrill of playing their first House of Blues shows. It's a time capsule full of humor, honesty, and the fire that fueled a band on the rise. Tune in and see just how much of your own 2015 memories align with theirs. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this week's show, we send get well wishes to Dave Edmunds, pour one out for the late Terry Reid, and spend quality time with new records from Wet Leg, Ben Nichols, Lord Huron and J. Isaiah Evans & The Boss Tweed. All this & much, much less! Debts No Honest Man Can Pay is a podcast that thinks it's a radio show...because it used to be one. The show started in 2003 at WHFR-FM (Dearborn, MI), moved to WGWG-FM (Boiling Springs, NC) in 2006 & Plaza Midwood Community Radio (Charlotte, NC) in 2012, with a brief pit-stop at WLFM-FM (Appleton, WI) in 2004. It phoenixed into a podcast in 2020, thanks to the fine and fabulously furious folks at NRM Streamcast. 

08-12-25 - Hot Releases - Madden 26 - Alien Earth - Butterfly - Fixed Netflix - The Rainmaker - Chevelle - Rise Against - Maroon 5 - The StrutsSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

With the current tour bringing back all the nostalgia for the summer of 2015 when Everybody Wants first took America by storm, I thought it was time to take you on a trip down memory lane. Ever wonder what was really going through the minds of The Struts during that first whirlwind US tour? What was on the stereo as they drove through LA for the first time, what movies were they watching, and what was their unfiltered, first impression of a New York City dive bar? In this special two-part series, we're finding out. You might think all four guys shared the same experience, but their answers are more unique than you'd expect. Join me as I sit down with Gethin Davies and Jed Elliott to hear their side of the story—and find out how a tour manager who hated tight spaces, a surprising #1 chart spot on a brand-new app called Spotify, and a late-night drive over the Brooklyn Bridge truly defined their American dream. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

08-12-25 - Hot Releases - Madden 26 - Alien Earth - Butterfly - Fixed Netflix - The Rainmaker - Chevelle - Rise Against - Maroon 5 - The StrutsSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Live music lovers, rejoice

It’s a jam-packed program today with a variety of guests. Former Philadelphia Brian Westbrook talks about his upcoming charity golf outing, we get an update on the mystery photo Steve found in his walls, and Luke Spiller of the Struts shares what the band has been up to while on tour. This episode is brought to you in part by Profluent. (00:00:00) News & Sports(00:11:40) Entertainment News(00:50:01) Just Sayin' Institute(01:20:38) Bizarre File(01:30:50) Brian Westbrook, JDog Junk Removal Crew(01:58:33) Mystery Photo Update, Rachel Feinstein(02:43:17) Bizarre File, Luke Spiller(03:07:11) Hollywood Trash & Music News(03:21:57) Wrap Up

This week on The Struts Life, I sit down with Jed Elliott for a whirlwind of tour tales and hard-won wisdom from opening for rock royalty—The Rolling Stones, Foo Fighters, Def Leppard, Queens of the Stone Age, and more. Jed relives that pinch-me leap from pub gigs to 80,000 screaming fans, a back-of-the-house “enjoy the ride, boys” from Roger Daltrey, backstage mayhem with Dave and Taylor at MSG, and a goosebump moment when Brandon Flowers praised “Could've Been Me.” We get real about what younger bands should never do on a big stage (leave early, keep it classy backstage), why a great camp matters, and the dream double bill The Struts still crave—Queen with Adam Lambert. Plus, a little fan fun: follow @thestruts and @thestrutshq on Instagram and tag your show story for a chance at a tee. Hit play for the full ride—because some stories deserve to be heard, not skimmed. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lead singer Luke Spiller reflects on The Struts' breakthrough debut album 'Everybody Wants' turning 10, sharing stories behind hits like 'Could Have Been Me' and 'Put Your Money on Me'. He reveals plans to perform the album in its entirety on tour with Dirty Honey, teases an upcoming collaboration with an iconic artist, and discusses their new cover of Bad Company's 'Rock and Roll Fantasy'. Spiller also reminisces about touring with Foo Fighters and navigating the changing music industry as a young rock band. Then, it's Puddle of Mudd frontman Wes Scantlin sharing stories about his creative process, revealing how he prefers working late at night when everyone else is asleep. He discusses his new album Kiss the Machine, working with Neal Schon's son Miles on guitar, and his journey from Kansas City to getting signed by Fred Durst. Wes reflects on his past struggles, his hopes for helping others through music, and his entertaining adventures filming music videos with fireworks. Catch Eddie Trunk every M-F from 3:00-5:00pm ET on Trunk Nation on SiriusXM Faction Talk Channel 103.And don't forget to follow Eddie on X and Instagram!Follow the link to get your free 3-month trial of SiriusXM: http://siriusxm.com/eddietrunk Find all episodes of Trunk Nation: https://siriusxm.com/trunknation

What does it take for a fan to fall in love all over again? This week on The Struts Life, we welcome a guest whose story proves the sheer, transformative power of live rock and roll. His journey begins with a lifelong devotion to his first love, Aerosmith, taking us through an unlikely series of events involving Hilton Honors rewards, a star-studded charity gala for Steven Tyler, and the Grammys. But everything shifts the moment Luke Spiller takes the stage for an unplanned, on-the-fly performance of a Rolling Stones classic that completely changes the energy in the room. This is the incredible story of how a broken heart for one rock and roll legend was instantly healed by the undeniable charisma and raw talent of another, and it's a must-listen for anyone who understands how a single Struts concert can create a fan for life. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

To celebrate 10 years of Everybody Wants, we're doing something a little different on this episode of The Struts Life. Instead of our usual chat, we had you, the Strutters, send in your burning questions via voicemail, and let's just say you did not disappoint! Join Luke Spiller, Adam Slack, Gethin Davies, and Jed Elliott as they pull back the curtain on one of the most pivotal times in the band's career. We dive deep into the real stories behind the songwriting, the intense pressure from the record label to change their entire image (picture Luke with short, black hair and Nike trainers), and the surprising truth about their smash hit "Could Have Been Me" – a song they didn't even think was that special at first. Hear the band reveal which songs almost didn't make the cut, what they really think of that dated lyric in "She Makes Me Feel Like," and get some massive spoilers for the upcoming 10th Anniversary Tour setlist. Trust me, you think you know the story of Everybody Wants, but you have no idea. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week, we're buckling up as Luke Spiller reveals the untold story of his legendary baby-blue 1982 Austin Mini Mayfair. Discover how this classic car became a muse for the song "My Machine" and holds vivid memories from the very beginning of The Struts. It's a delightful look into how an object can hold so much history, a true piece of Struts lore you won't want to miss. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this week's episode of The Struts Life podcast, Geth relives the 36-hour odyssey from LAX to Bangor, Maine—complete with thunderstorm detours, private-jet envy, and backstage banter with Def Leppard. Hear how the jam-packed 50-minute set rocked the Cross Insurance Center, why Joe Elliott crowned us the “best support act ever,” and what fresh set-list curveballs await on the band's sizzling summer tour. Press play to unlock the cryptic clue about a top-secret Struts surprise that could rewrite tour history before the rumor mill leaves you behind. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Host Leah Jones turns a laid-back weeknight Gigaverse hangout into a turbo-charged “Struts Song Draft,” squaring off against superfans to build rival 15-track playlists from the band's full 56-song Spotify catalog while swapping road-war stories, drive-in show memories, and even second-grade classroom sing-alongs. The friendly trash-talk and surprise guest picks—think “In Love With a Camera,” “Too Good at Raising Hell,” “Kiss This,” and sleeper gem “The Old Switcheroo”—spark nonstop debate about what truly defines The Struts' sound just as the Everybody Wants 10th Anniversary Tour heats up the summer calendar. Leah invites listeners to cast the deciding vote, shout out any overlooked deep cuts, and keep the conversation rolling inside the official Strutters Facebook group. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Heads up, Strutters: this week's show bursts with news and romance as Jed Elliott and his wife, actress-designer Virginia “Ginny” Gardner, drop by to spill all the details on their whirlwind Raya meet-cute, globe-trotting love story, AND the launch of their gender-neutral locket collection with The Crystal Boutique—an anniversary gift to fans that fuses Jed's rock-and-roll edge with Ginny's dainty flair. We also unpack the newly announced “Everybody Wants” 10th-anniversary tour dates—most buzz-worthy being the July 18 return to the legendary Bottle & Cork in Dewey Beach, Delaware (move fast, those tickets vanish in a blink). From laughing-gas-inspired podcast hijacks to tips on balancing chaotic schedules with a strict three-week rule, this candid chat is packed with laugh-out-loud banter, backstage confessions, and sparkling relationship wisdom—all wrapped in that signature Struts swagger fans crave. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

British rock band, The Struts, is in the kitchen for an English Breakfast inspired by my love of Jamie Oliver. They also teach me the right way to way to eat beans… and I cook up a Big Mac Taco. And of course I make them sing. And it's totally worth it. Follow The Struts: https://www.instagram.com/thestruts This episode is brought to you by Original Grain Watches. Go to https://OriginalGrain.com/Bert, use promo code BERT, and get your dad—or yourself—a piece of history you can wear. This episode is brought to you by Tastemade. Try Tastemade+ free for 7 days right now at https://tastemade.com/BURNING This episode is brought to you by BetterHelp. Our listeners get 10% off their first month at https://betterhelp.com/burning. SUBSCRIBE so you never miss a video https://bit.ly/3DC1ICg Stream LUCKY on Netflix https://www.netflix.com/title/81713944 PERMISSION TO PARTY WORLD TOUR is on sale now: http://www.bertbertbert.com/tour For all things BERTY BOY PRODUCTIONS: https://bertyboyproductions.com For MERCH: https://store.bertbertbert.com/ Follow Me! Facebook: http://www.Facebook.com/BertKreischer Instagram: http://www.Instagram.com/bertkreischer YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/user/Akreischer TikTok: http://www.TikTok.com/@bertkreischer Threads: https://www.threads.net/@bertkreischer X: http://www.Twitter.com/bertkreischer Text Me: https://my.community.com/bertkreischer Big Mac Taco: * 1 LBS ground beef * 8-10 mini tortillas * 10 slices cheddar cheese * 1 cup chopped lettuce * 1 cup pickles * Salt * EVOO * 1 cup mayonnaise * 3 TBS ketchup * 1 TBS Dijon mustard * 2 TBS diced yellow onion * 1 TBS chopped relish * 1 TBS white vinegar * 1 TBS garlic powder * 1 tsp black pepper * 1 tsp smoked paprika 1. Combine mayo, ketchup, Dijon, onion, salt, relish, vinegar, garlic powder, pepper, and smoked paprika to create Big Mac sauce. Mix well and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. 2. Heat small amount of oil in pan on high heat. Place 2-3 TBS of ground beef in each tortilla, pressing down on the beef to create an even layer then sprinkle with salt. 3. Place meat side down on skillet, lower heat to medium-low, and cook for 4 minutes. Flip tacos and cook on tortilla side until crispy. 4. Top each taco with cheese, lettuce, pickles and sauce. One Sheet breakfast: * Potatoes, cut into 3cm chunks * Salt and pepper * Chorizo * Red pepper * Cherry tomatoes * Eggs * Mushrooms, whole or halved * Sprigs of parsley, chopped * Bacon * Roma tomatoes * Sausage * Shredded cheese * Beans * Sourdough bread 1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Parboil the potatoes in a pan of salted boiling water for 5-6 minutes until almost cooked through, drain and steam dry. 2. Drop chorizo all over pan, cut up bacon, potatoes, and tomatoes. Bake until potatoes are soft. Add eggs and bake until eggs are at the consistency of your choice. 3. Heat beans over stove, then serve over cut up and toasted sourdough bread. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

***This show is brought to you by DistroKid. Go to http://distrokid.com/vip/the500 for 30% off your first year!*** The Struts lead singer Luke Spiller talks about the raw power of one of his biggest influences, and the biggest influence of rock bands for decades: T. Rex and their sophomore album Electric Warrior Follow Luke on Social Media: https://www.instagram.com/lukespiller/?hl=en DistroKid Artist Of The Week: Luke Spiller https://youtu.be/m8a_ePrR1GA?si=giZgu2wUrOGWSVi_ Follow Josh on Instagram: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/joshadammeyers/⁠ Follow Josh on TikTok: ⁠https://www.tiktok.com/@joshadammeyers⁠ Follow Josh on Twitter: ⁠https://twitter.com/JoshAdamMeyers⁠ Follow Josh on Facebook: ⁠https://www.facebook.com/joshameyers⁠ Josh's Website: ⁠https://www.joshadammeyers.com/⁠ Follow The 500 on Instagram: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/the500podcast/⁠ Follow The 500 on Twitter: ⁠https://twitter.com/the500podcast⁠ Follow The 500 on Facebook: ⁠https://www.facebook.com/The500PodcastWithJAM/⁠ Email the show: ⁠500podcast@gmail.com⁠ Check the show's website:⁠ ⁠⁠http://the500podcast.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices