my brain, dry of thoughts
The problem with the Believer
is that a magazine about writing, writers, books, and things worth writing about will inevitably make me want to read more. I currently do not read four novels a month, nor have I developed a sentimental relationship with another hardcovers. To repeat: I did not have literary relations with that publisher. [Although the recent coverage of Evergreen in both Stop Smiling
the aforementioned magazine has made me develop a crush, at least.]
Reading, not writing, goes on. One book follows another. Novels pile up on bedstands across American in filthy orgies, ink and glue everywhere.
All this is to say that I am in denial about music. I tell myself that each song has an end- that this balland would work so well as a mixtape-closer, that this album will teach me how to use reverb properly, etc. Very few of these things are true. Songs aren't fodder for my magical musical making machine. One after another, songs deserve to be loved for who they are,
unique snowflakes and precious children, each different and worthy of all your heart.
Nick Hornby writes a monthly column in the Believer
. He reminds me of a particular British sensibility that in turn reminds me of the following musical artists (but not the featured remixer.)
Badly Drawn Boy- The Shining (Avalanches Remix)
Belle & Sebastian- I'm A Cuckoo (Avalanches Remix)
Drawing: Peter van dyck, contemporary drawer.