Permanent Record ★★★

teenage life is passing the baton.
trauma, pressure, influences.
memories and honoring the death of the people we love can be a nightmare but its what it inspires within us that really defines us.
the death of a friend at such a young age shapes a part of us with a unique roughness we can never remove. its like accelerating growth where youre pushing feelings shaped like a Jeep through a keyhole.
we burst but we manage.

when me and my friends were 17, one of our good friends who had not long passed his test was driving to work and crashed his car and died on a notoriously shite stretch of road a mile from the bed he slept in since he was born.
dealing with his instant passing, his funeral, looking at all his family (and my own) in ways we'd never seen, sitting next to his empty seat on school buses and seeing his gran walk past the bus stop every day bascially never left the group of our friends. you cant look at growing up in a sincere, brittle or doughy-eyed way anymore. youre a soul down before youre legal age to drink with them (luckily Lynchy was a good whitburn boy and drank at 14 like the rest of us).

and much like Permanent record, our other friend Bo, 2 years later committed suicide on the railway line that took all of us at one point or another to gigs and pubs in edinburgh. things we should have been prepared for in the aftermath came like virgin shock. its like an implosion, first the internalizing quiet and then unfocused externalizing. anger, drink, music, sadness.

Permanent Record is the south pole to John hughes teen north. no sugar pink entendres and poptastic soundtrack. just awash with something missing. a person was here.

really personal, and maybe for me, too raw