The summer we had to learn to hate our favorite band
was also the summer we learned to make our own
self-sufficient music. We already knew how
to turn any song into a power anthem. We could turn
any lyrics into clay in order to sculpt them into
our own lives. The day we found out the members
of our favorite band were pieces of shit, though,
we stopped making heroes out of voice recordings.
The best music I know about has always come from
the people who love me most, even if they can’t sing
to save their lives, or successfully wrap their fingers
around the impatient neck of a guitar.
So I say to my friends, You are all my favorite songs,
and I mean it every time, and when people ask me
what I’m listening to these days, I give them a whole soundtrack:
Kate laughing on their porch. Emily singing along
to Alanis Morissette or Meredith Brooks while drumming
on the steering wheel. Dorothy performing at a slam
while wearing a dress that was once mine. Kat ending
every conversation with I love you, no matter what.
Troy renaming all their loved ones light. Connor dancing
to George Michael in the park. Paige dancing
to Walgreens hold music. John’s heart emojis.
Joplin talking about Chuck Berry, or wheatgrass,
or whales in their kitchen. Linette calling me bub.
Brai calling me from a Safeway parking lot in our hometown
at 1:00 in the morning. Aedah sending me pictures
of the two of us when we were kids, saying look at us now
and look at us now: a bunch of clumsy but beautiful acoustics.
A folder full of scratched-up CD’s that still play flawlessly
in the car every time. We’re all just trying to be lovesongs
that rhyme myself with myself. We know that even if everyone else
is right, and punk, and folk-punk, and pop-punk are dead, we aren’t.
Not yet, anyway, and not for a long time. The summer
we had to learn to hate our favorite band was also the summer
of the eternal Spotify queue. The cross-country mixtapes.
The living room moshpits. It was the summer we learned
to be our own heroes, because we’re more than just voices
and we’re right here.
self-sufficient music. We already knew how
to turn any song into a power anthem. We could turn
any lyrics into clay in order to sculpt them into
our own lives. The day we found out the members
of our favorite band were pieces of shit, though,
we stopped making heroes out of voice recordings.
The best music I know about has always come from
the people who love me most, even if they can’t sing
to save their lives, or successfully wrap their fingers
around the impatient neck of a guitar.
So I say to my friends, You are all my favorite songs,
and I mean it every time, and when people ask me
what I’m listening to these days, I give them a whole soundtrack:
Kate laughing on their porch. Emily singing along
to Alanis Morissette or Meredith Brooks while drumming
on the steering wheel. Dorothy performing at a slam
while wearing a dress that was once mine. Kat ending
every conversation with I love you, no matter what.
Troy renaming all their loved ones light. Connor dancing
to George Michael in the park. Paige dancing
to Walgreens hold music. John’s heart emojis.
Joplin talking about Chuck Berry, or wheatgrass,
or whales in their kitchen. Linette calling me bub.
Brai calling me from a Safeway parking lot in our hometown
at 1:00 in the morning. Aedah sending me pictures
of the two of us when we were kids, saying look at us now
and look at us now: a bunch of clumsy but beautiful acoustics.
A folder full of scratched-up CD’s that still play flawlessly
in the car every time. We’re all just trying to be lovesongs
that rhyme myself with myself. We know that even if everyone else
is right, and punk, and folk-punk, and pop-punk are dead, we aren’t.
Not yet, anyway, and not for a long time. The summer
we had to learn to hate our favorite band was also the summer
of the eternal Spotify queue. The cross-country mixtapes.
The living room moshpits. It was the summer we learned
to be our own heroes, because we’re more than just voices
and we’re right here.
Lyd Havens is the author of Survive Like the Water (Rising Phoenix Press, 2017). Their work has previously been published or is forthcoming inWinter Tangerine, Cosmonauts Avenue, and Black Napkin Press, among others. Lyd is currently an undergrad at Boise State University, studying Creative Writing and History. They believe in every lizard in the world, the magic of bathtubs, their friends, and you. More at https://www.lydiahavens.com/
