Summer's Last Sound

I have a theory, concocted with my dear friend Nik, that how we are as a teenager is how we are. We might (might!) get better at moderating the outer excesses; we don’t feel things less floridly.

  

Hence this summer. The summer where I may as well have been that creature above again, watching Why Don’t You? and shoplifting, for all the work I’ve done. (I’ve actually spent quality time with boyfriend, friends, cats, The Age Of Innocence, Dragons' Den, Demi Lovato’s ‘Cool For The Summer’, prosecco, Sunn O))), London parks, and the urge to give up veganism). For me, there’s something about August that says laze and laze some more; I remember one year I desperately tried to get into the Ryder Cup rather than do anything productive.

Part of the reason for the [post-rock] lull was a natural rhythm change. As I mentioned before, I’ve consciously tackled this book differently to Seasons They Change; I’m trying not to interview people haphazardly, but instead figure out patterns, see how people knew one another, work out the different factors and dynamics in and between individual groups and ‘scenes’. In July I felt the bulk of my British interviews of the late 80s and early 90s were in the bag – although transcribing them is a different matter entirely – and I’d done a shitload of research on the influences that fed into [post-rock], as my blog posts up to this point testify. I’d also made some strong decisions as to the shape of my book: moving away from a strictly linear approach into something organised more thematically.

Didn’t I deserve a break of a few weeks? Wouldn’t it improve the book if I did so?

As Nicki Minaj says, playtime is over, motherfuckers! I’m listening to Goodbye Enemy Airship The Landlord Is Dead and getting my head back in the game. North American [post-rock]: I’m coming for you.