Chapter Text
The day of a release is something Klavier always looks forward to. Interviews, live performances, love from fans and casual listeners alike pouring in through social media and a top ten chart placement: whether it's a single, EP or full album, he basks in the attention and praise, savouring the adoration like a fine wine. If he could only experience one feeling for the rest of his life, it would be this. He could ride the high of fame forever and never get bored of it, could spend years going through his Twitter mentions and reading all of the positive feedback from his fans and never tire of it.
Others might call it vain, but Klavier just calls it taking pride in his work. After all, when you’ve spent months making sure everything - from the instrumentals to the vocals to the music videos, marketing and tour plans - are perfect, it's hard not to get cocky when your latest album reaches number one on the billboard charts the moment it's released, or when the music videos take less than an hour to hit a million views. In this industry, it pays to be arrogant. People don’t want timid rock stars. If they were looking for a humble musician…
Well, they wouldn’t be fans of him , for a start.
When “ Love Without Parole” , The Gavinners' fifth studio album, releases on July 1st, Klavier stays up with the rest of the band to watch the reviews come in - though to be fair most of the "reviews" at this point are hardcore fans who'll love whatever they put out regardless (not that he's complaining of course).They refresh the Billboard charts on Daryan's laptop and pop open a bottle of champagne when they see their album listed at number two; it's become a routine by now, but Klavier revels in it nonetheless.
He's halfway through his second glass of champagne when the first sign of trouble appears; Daryan throws back his third glass of champagne and lets out a laugh. "How long do you think it'll take for Justice to write a review?" he says with a grin, "I give it three days." He holds out his glass for a top-up and the dry laugh that Klavier lets out feels as much of a routine as the celebration.
A few years ago alt now. , a relatively popular music publication, had got a new writer by the name of Apollo Justice. A few things are notable about Justice's writing:
- He seems to know a lot about legal procedures, covering law suits in the world of rock music.
- The light-hearted jokes and conversational tone of his music seems to have amassed quite the following, with his most popular articles receiving thousands of reads online.
- He really, really doesn't like The Gavinners.
In this short time it’s taken for him to succeed in music journalism Justice has already reviewed all four of their previous albums, plus a handful of songs and EPs, and has had pretty much nothing positive to say about any of them. The best score he’s given any of their albums was a four-point-five out of ten, and even then he’d written that “ the Gavinners were lucky he was in a good mood when he’d listened to it ”. At best, his reviews are cynical and snarky. At worst they’re a series of ruthless, scathing critiques laced with sarcastic humour that serve only to rub salt into the still-bleeding wound. However, by far the worst thing about Apollo Justice’s reviews is that they’re… good .
They’re infuriating, of course; by now Klavier’s read every single one of them (he’s been sent them enough times that it would be kind of impossible for him to have not read them) and they all make Justice’s resentment of The Gavinners abundantly clear. But they’re also extremely well-written, going in-depth with each track and explaining exactly how and why each of them fails to deliver on the expectations built up by the band’s success. They manage to get the balance between dry humour and critical analysis just right in a way that no other reviewer Klavier knows can consistently manage. Hell, if the reviews were of literally anyone else’s music, he would probably go as far to say that he enjoys them. But they’re not of anyone else’s music. They’re of Klavier’s. And - as arrogant as it seems - Klavier just can’t appreciate someone’s work when they actively hate his own.
Which is probably why Daryan’s comment stings so much. Their album’s been out for… what? Two hours? And he’s already brought up the one thing (well, person) that Klavier doesn’t want to be thinking about. He groans, putting his champagne flute down on the table perhaps a little too hard.
“I couldn’t care less what he thinks,” he says, hoping his bandmates are tipsy enough to not be able to tell he’s lying, “He’s just some guy who doesn’t like our music, who gives a shit?”
Daryan laughs. “Yeah, we know,” he replies, “ You’re the one who complains about him and it’s so fucking annoying.”
Klavier lets out a groan. Daryan’s right, of course; if he doesn’t post on Twitter about how ‘some people have nothing better to do than come for people more popular than them’ , then he’s complaining to his bandmates about a certain writer for alt now. who needs to get his head out of his ass and stop taking things so seriously. He insists Justice’s reviews don’t get to him, of course, but they all know that’s blatantly untrue.
“Ach, whatever,” he frowns, “It’s not like it’s going to affect sales, is it?” He picks up his drink again and down the rest of his champagne, turning his attention back to the celebration. According to their manager they’re predicted to go gold within two weeks of release and they’re already in talks to extend the “Love Without Parole” world tour due to high demand; the evidence that Justice’s pretentious reviews are nothing more than baseless conjecture is right there. Klavier doesn’t need to worry himself with the (incorrect) opinions of a total stranger.
Besides, he doesn’t exactly have time for Apollo Justice. He's got a whole week of promotion coming up, after all.
----
“ Love Without Parole” goes gold in six days. Not that Klavier was expecting anything less, of course; the promotion for this era of music (something he’s learned over the years is that saying ‘era’ instead of ‘album’ sounds significantly cooler) had been intense, non-stop and a little overwhelming at times, but the hype it had created and the incredible support from fans had let him know that it would all be worth it.
Not that he has much time to process it. The band is so busy with interviews, album signings, fan events and performances in the weeks following the album’s release that Klavier barely notices when it moves from number two to number one on the charts on its third day of release and the newly added dates for their tour sell out within the hour. The few precious moments he gets away from work (whether it’s a scheduled event or just the paparazzi hounding him the moment he steps foot outside his apartment) are mostly spent passed out in his bed or posting on social media. Which, to be fair, is still kind of part of his job. It’s exhausting, but it makes the thrill of performing all the more worthwhile.
Lost in the excitement of a new release, Klavier doesn’t pay that much attention to what people are saying online. He occasionally checks his mentions on Twitter or tagged photos on Instagram, but there’s tens, if not hundreds, of new notifications from fans, publications and critics alike that it’s impossible to check every single one of them. Which is probably why it takes him nearly three weeks to see alt now. ’s review of “ Love Without Parole”.
He sees it while aimlessly scrolling through social media in the early hours of the morning, after three interviews during the day and a performance on a talk show in the evening. Seeing the review . on his feed catches his attention, but it’s the name attached that really wakes him up: Apollo Justice.
A smarter man would simply roll his eyes and scroll past it, saving himself the time and annoyance of reading the opinions of someone who openly detests them. But Klavier Gavin is not a smarter man and makes the (incredibly stupid) decision to click on the link to the review. Maybe this one would be different. Maybe, for once, Apollo Justice would be in a good enough mood to give their album the praise Klavier thinks - no, knows - it deserves.
“The Gavinners released a fifth album and I wish they hadn’t. - review by Apollo Justice” , the title reads, and Klavier takes a moment to accept that this review is about to be the same as all the others before, against his better judgement, reading on.
----
“The Gavinners released a fifth album and I really wish they hadn't - review by Apollo Justice”
It’s eight pm on a Friday evening. Most people my age would be getting ready to go out with friends, or relaxing with a bottle of wine after a long week of work, but unfortunately I am unable to do either. Instead, I am sitting at my desk about to do something I’ve been dreading for nearly six months: listen to “Love Without Parole” , the fifth studio album from California-based pop-rock band The Gavinners.
With two gold singles and an already-sold out tour, there’s no denying this album is going to be wildly successful, yet I already can’t help but feel I’m going to hate it. Very rarely does a release ever manage to live up to this kind of hype, especially when the release in question is coming from The Gavinners. Still, it can’t be that much worse than their previous album “ Hung Jury Heart ” which should be considered a crime in and of itself ( you can read my review for it here ). So I brace myself, put on my headphones and press play.
The album starts with a painfully boring guitar riff and Klavier Gavin excitedly asking the listener if they are ready to rock. I am not ready to rock, but I feel like I don’t really have a say in the matter regardless. The painfully boring riff leads into the rest of the painfully boring first track: an energetic yet incredibly basic pop punk anthem called “ Pro Bono ”, which not only has the lyrical genius of a sixth-grader but also lets me know that I am, in fact, about to listen to another weird law-themed album full of legal references The Gavinners’ fans probably don’t understand. "Pro Bono" is as forgettable as it is grating, with nonsensical lyrics that I think are about being yourself, but it's hard to tell with all the random legal jargon thrown in there.
Track one fades out after what feels like hours, despite only being two minutes and thirty-one seconds long, and track two begins, reminding me that I still have another seven tracks of this abomination to go. This one's the lead single released back in October of last year and bears the same name as the album itself, and my thoughts on it are much the same as they were when the song first came out. It's loud, obnoxious, clichéd and sounds exactly like the rest of the band's discography ( yo u can read my full review of it here ).
Track three and four, "Siren" and "Under Arrest ", makes me wish I was under arrest so I wouldn't have to listen to them. They're impossible to differentiate, save for a slight change in tempo; at first I thought "Siren" was really long but turns out there's just two near-identical songs back-to-back on this album. It's the kind of mistake I'd expect from a debut, not from a band's fifth album.
The album's second single, " My Boyfriend Is The Prosecution's Witness ", is next up. I didn't review this one when it came out (alongside The Gavinners' frontman) back in February but it's just as average as I remember. To be fair, it's far more interesting lyrically than the other songs on the album, although the ever-present legal gimmick and the repetitive guitar riffs and chorus stop it from being any less cringe-inducing. It's easily the best song on the album so far, but that's hardly a feat worth celebrating. Coming out isn't easy (I would know) but you can make it a lot easier on yourself by not doing it with a mediocre song.
Track six and seven (" Full Acquittal " and " Jailbreak Lover ") feel like a repeat of every other Gavinners song. It's a shame, really. If any of these songs were released individually they might be somewhat decent, but when you've heard the same thing over sixty times (yes, their discography is that long) you can’t help but feel like you’ve been scammed. But hey, at least it’s nearly over; “ Love Without Parole ”’s main saving grace is that it’s significantly shorter than The Gavinners’ previous albums, with only eight tracks and a mercifully brief runtime of just over thirty minutes. Track eight, “ Atroquinine, My Love ”, is unfortunately the longest on the album, and as I hit play for the last time I brace myself for a whole four minutes and twenty seconds of more run-of-the-mill commercialised pop-punk noise.
So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when no obnoxious riffs or overly-aggressive drumming assaults my ears. “ Atroquinine, My Love ” is a slow, emotional ballad, with lyrics that actually resemble a good song as opposed to a drunk law student attempting slam poetry. True, it’s still a clichéd tale of lost love and betrayal that I’ve heard a million times in songs significantly better than this, but when compared to every other track on this album it’s surprisingly enjoyable. The instrumental is simple and stripped back and Klavier Gavin’s vocals are raw and emotional in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s not a song I’d necessarily choose to listen to, but it’s good enough that the four minutes and twenty seconds are over faster than I realise.
After listening to the whole album, my thoughts on “ Love Without Parole ” are more or less the same as with any other release from The Gavinners. Only this time, I don’t finish the album feeling exhausted or relieved that it’s over; instead I simply feel let down. I’ve reviewed all five of The Gavinners’ albums now, alongside several of their singles and EPs, and this is the first time since their debut single “ Thirteen Hard years For Love ” (back when the legal references were an interesting lyrical choice and not a tired gimmick) that I’ve seen even a glimpse of potential from the band. “ Atroquinine, My Love ” is honestly a decent song, as well as proof that The Gavinners could be capable of making good music. Unfortunately, this is most likely a fluke. They’ll continue making formulaic, commercialised pop-rock that most people only listen to because the frontman is hot, because that’s where the money is. And I’ll continue to review their songs because I have rent to pay.
I can only pray that I’m wrong, but for now I can’t say “ Love Without Parole” has been anything more than a disappointment.
4/10
----
Klavier reads the review with a frown.
Apollo Justice is, of course, entitled to his own tastes. Some people just have different opinions (which are wrong) but it’s fine. But usually when someone actively dislikes his music he's able to simply dismiss it with a laugh. More often than not when people openly shit on The Gavinners, it’s cowards hiding behind faceless profiles commenting petty insults and homophobic slurs on their music videos. That’s easy to ignore, to brush off as some loser with too much time on their hands. Apollo Justice, however, isn’t just some loser with too much time on his hands. He seems like kind of an asshole, sure, but he’s not an idiot. As much as Klavier disagrees with him, he can tell that Justice doesn’t just hate The Gavinners for the sake of hating them. He even kind of likes one of their songs. All things considered, his writing isn’t even that biased; it’s just an honest review of an album he happens to not like. Klavier can’t just brush him off.
And that stings.
Not that anyone else needs to know that, of course. It’s only a matter of time until he’s going to be sent the article and asked what he thinks of it, so he might as well get that out of the way now while it’s still fresh in his mind. His manager would probably tell him to wait until morning when he’s less sleep deprived, but his manager’s not here right now, so he returns to the post from alt now. containing the link to the review and hits quote retweet.
@klaviergavinofficial
idk why @apollojustice thinks ppl only listen to us bc i’m hot. sounds like self-projection ;)
posted 02:46
He only manages to stay awake long enough to see the first few replies from fans before falling asleep with his phone still on the mattress beside him. It’s not the worst thing he’s ever tweeted but he wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up to several texts from his manager telling him to delete it.
His prediction turns out to be correct. He wakes up to his work phone vibrating aggressively on his bedside table and opens it to see three missed calls and eight texts from his manager, as well as two from Daryan, all regarding the tweet he’d made that night. Perhaps responding to a critic he doesn’t like at nearly three am hadn’t been the best idea after all, he thinks, letting out a yawn before letting his manager know he’ll delete the tweet promptly. Before he does, though, Klavier checks the replies first, just in case Apollo Justice has seen it. It’s unlikely that he has - it was posted in the early hours of the morning and he’s got enough followers that his notifications probably get full very quickly, plus he only seems to tweet once every few weeks so he probably doesn’t pay much attention to social media in the first place--
The top reply, with an impressive four-hundred likes, is from Apollo Justice who’s responded with a simple “classy :/” and nothing else.
Scheiße .
Deleting the tweet feels like admitting defeat, but he’d rather lose a few thousands likes and Apollo Justice’s respect (not that Klavier thinks he had it in the first place) than face the wrath of his manager. Besides, he has a busy day ahead of him and the last thing he wants is for mulling over a reply from a critic to make him late for his interview that morning.
----
The rest of the week is hectic, so much so that he forgets about the tweet in a few days. The review, however, sticks in his head, Justice’s scathing remarks and jokes at the expense of Klavier’s work on repeat in the back of his mind like a broken record. For once he makes a conscious effort not to let anyone else know, mentioning it only once to Daryan who responds by rolling his eyes and telling him he’s only mad because he’s stressed and this is the easiest thing to take his anger out on. It’s almost scary how accurate that is; with all the constant promotion and performances, plus rehearsals for their upcoming tour, Klavier’s barely had a chance to rest since “ Love Without Parole ” came out. He hasn't been this stressed since… well, the release of their last album and Justice's review is an easy target for his pent up emotions.
It’s nearly two months after the album’s release that he finally gets a chance to relax: a whole weekend with nothing on his schedule. No interviews, no performances, and no rehearsals since their bassist is in Florida for a wedding. It’s been months since he last had a whole day free, let alone an entire weekend. He sleeps in until noon on Saturday, orders in brunch and spends the afternoon catching up on the new albums he’s been unable to listen to while recording and promoting his own. In the evening he puts his hair up and shoves it under a cap before donning a large enough pair of sunglasses to hide most of his face before heading out to his old local bar.
It’s a good hour away from where he lives now, but back when The Gavinners were first starting out it had been their go-to venue while they figured out how to officially record and release their music. Back then it had been a small, relatively unknown and honestly kind of shady joint, but over the years it’s cleaned up and gained a decent reputation amongst musicians in the area. It’s a good place for new talent to debut, and Klavier often spends what little free time he has listening to the new music the local indie scene has to offer.
He arrives at the bar just before eight and the bouncer lets him skip the line and head straight in. It's relatively busy inside, though not nearly busy enough to call it a full house, with assorted patrons sat at the old wooden tables and leant up against the exposed brickwork as the manager (who gives Klavier a nod of recognition when he spots him) finishes setting up the mic stand for tonight's act. After all these years the bar still has a cosy atmosphere and a hazy feel to it; the smell of liquor and smoke pervades the air and the dim amber lights fill the venue with a warm, gentle glow. He feels at home here, able to take off his sunglasses and let his hair down as he orders a vodka soda and sits at an empty table near the back of the bar to wait for the music to start.
Tonight’s act is apparently making her first ever live debut, having only independently released music through the internet up until now. The singer's name is Athena Cykes and she comes on stage grinning, though from this distance Klavier can't tell if it's the result of nerves of a total lack thereof; that's the sign of a true professional, he would know. She's wearing what looks like a school uniform, though it's in bright enough colours that it couldn't possibly be one, which makes Klavier think she's most likely a pop singer - strange considering this bar mostly caters to the alternative scene, but his instincts tell him not to judge a book by its cover.
His instincts turn out to be right. Athena Cykes’ has a setlist of just eight songs, six original and two covers (not that he recognises them in the first place) with a ten minute break halfway through. Her music sounds like nothing Klavier’s ever heard before; it’s a chaotic, eclectic mix of nu metal and hyper-pop that doesn’t feel like it should work but does. He’s not sure what half her songs are about, but they’re surprisingly catchy and Klavier can only assume she’s had vocal lessons judging by how she can scream in all of them without seeming to tire out her voice. Her set is dizzyingly bright, making full use of the bar's strobe lights, and Athena herself oozes confidence; if he didn't know, Klavier would assume that she'd been performing for years.
She finishes just after eleven, and he takes five minutes to finish his drink and let Athena Cykes, plus who he assumes is her manager, clear up the stage before getting up and making his way over to them.
One of the best things about being as famous as Klavier is the amount of influence he has. The label The Gavinners' are signed to have never had an artist this big under them (and will probably never have another either), making it refreshingly easy for him to influence which artists it takes on - or not, in some cases. Cykes is young and confident, and her music is strange and wonderful and definitely has an audience out there waiting for something just like it. She also seems extremely likeable - important for artists just starting out since critics will often tear down someone's personality if they don't like their music. That's something Klavier has experience with first-hand.
When he reaches the stage Athena Cykes and her manager (?) are talking and it's only now, standing a few feet away, that he realises he recognises him. Where from, though, he has no idea; Cykes' manager looks around his age despite his height (or rather lack thereof), with chestnut hair styled out of his face and warm brown eyes that are narrowed in focus as he discusses something with Athena. He fiddles with a gold bracelet around his wrist, his sleeves rolled up and tie loose around his neck, skin glistening with sweat under the bar's stage lights. It's a good look on him, to be honest, and Klavier can only assume he's an industry professional that he'd met at some point, though he's surprised he doesn't remember someone this attractive.
Klavier lingers by the stage long enough for him to notice and his eyes momentarily widen in recognition, confirming Klavier’s theory that they have, at some point, met before. He watches as Cykes tells him that she’s going to head home before leaving the two of them alone.
There’s silence for a few seconds as the two of them make eye contact. Cykes’ manager’s expression seems to be somewhere between bored and vaguely intrigued, looking him up and down as if sizing him up and figuring out if he's worth his time. It's not a reaction that Klavier can say he’s used to seeing from those who are lucky enough to meet him, but he figures it's probably a result of stress and fatigue; it's nearly midnight, after all. He gives Cykes' manager a warm but professional smile - one he's had to practice over his many years in the music industry - and approaches him.
"That was quite the show," he says, figuring an introduction won't be necessary, "You're Fraulein Cykes' manager, ja?"
The man in front of him holds his gaze. "Producer," he replies, "She doesn't have a manager right now."
"Ah," Klavier nods, "So you produced those tracks? I've never heard something like that before."
Cykes' producer shrugs. "It's an acquired taste, I guess," he replies, "It's definitely far cry from what The Gavinners have made over the years. And I only produce on the side for friends, before you ask."
Ah, so he does recognise me. Klavier lets out a laugh, leaning against one of the loudspeakers. "You're not wrong there," he says, "It's good though. A little rough around the edges, but nothing that can't be improved."
A slight smirk tugs at the corner of Cykes' producer's lips, the vague intrigue in his expression turning to begrudging amusement. "Is that so?" he asks. His brow is raised; he's perhaps a little too confident, enjoying a professional conversation a little too much. He's challenging Klavier, daring him to respond.
Klavier enjoys a good dare. Perhaps it comes as a detriment to him, but he hasn't gotten this far without taking a few risks - even if most of them have happened away from the public eye. He returns Cykes' producer's smile with one of his own, running a hand through his hair and shrugging. "Sure," he says, "I'm sure with a little extra training you could clean it up into something closer to industry standard. I'd be more than happy to help out."
A flicker of something crosses the producer's expression for a moment: a brief flash of annoyance that Klavier would've missed if he were standing any further away. He folds his arms, the gold bracelet around his wrist catching the dim amber lights of the bar. "I'm sure I can manage myself," he replies, "But thank you for the offer."
"You sure?" Klavier chuckles, not wanting to come off antagonistic. "You said so yourself, this is something you do on the side. I'm sure your day job is a higher priority anyway."
"Mhm."
Klavier grins. He's been in this situation plenty of times before, in interviews and bars alike; he's turned the conversation in his favour, now all he has to do is lay on the charm. Maybe flirt a little. The right lighting and body language can do wonders for an argument. Besides, it's not like he can't handle rejection. "What is your day job, anyway?" he presses, "We could discuss it over a drink, if you like - I'm more than happy to pay for you."
Cyke’s producer’s expression remains unwavering, but at Klavier’s words there’s an unmissable twinkle in his eye that lets him know just a little too late that he’s walked into a trap.
“I’m a writer,” he tells him, “I mostly do reviews for alt now. , though I’ve got a few personal projects on the side as well.”
“Oh?” Klavier has to physically force himself to stay smiling as feels his face flush. The dots are slowly connecting in his head; Cykes’ producer is… no, that would be too much of a coincidence… right ?
“I think you’ve read my reviews of your music,” he continues - and for the first time in years Klavier unironically wants to ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole - “I believe you retweeted one of them suggesting I wanted to fuck you?”
Klavier clears his throat, focussing on a particularly interesting spot on the floor in front of him. “Not my exact wording but sure--”
“It was close enough.”
He opens his mouth to reply before closing it again, placing his hands in his pockets as the heat in his face spreads to his ears. He can’t remember the last time he felt this embarrassed; he’s had a couple of awkward interviews in the last few months, sure but this is different. He’d complimented Apollo Justice’s work. Even worse, he’d tried to flirt with him - offered to buy him a drink and everything. The worst part, though, how proud Apollo Justice looks. He’s not even hiding it, grinning to himself like he’s just won a prize.
Annoyingly, he’s still really attractive.
If there were ever a good time for Klavier to keel over and die, it would be right now.
Apollo Justice smiles at him, just a little too widely to be genuine. “I should probably head off,” he says cheerfully, “Don’t wanna miss the last train.”
Klavier’s mouth is bone dry, but he manages to croak out a, “Ja, good idea,” regardless.
“Oh, and here’s some professional advice, Mr Gavin,” Apollo says, “As both a writer and a producer. Most people in the indie scene aren’t looking to be scouted by obnoxious, unoriginal industry hacks like yourself. Enjoy the music, but don’t stick your nose in where it’s not wanted. Got that?”
No reply.
“Good.”
Maybe if he weren’t so humiliated, Klavier would enjoy watching him as he turns around and walks away.