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.


​

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/