“To me, making a tape is like writing a letter – there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again, and I wanted it to be a good one.”
In this quote from Nick Hornby, the author compares making a mixtape to the process of writing a letter, emphasizing the care, thought, and effort that goes into creating something personal and meaningful. The mention of erasing, rethinking, and starting again highlights the revision process involved in both activities, while the desire for the mixtape to be "a good one" speaks to the importance of crafting something of value and significance to the recipient. Overall, this quote captures the sentiment of creating something heartfelt and intentional, reflecting the thought and care that goes into meaningful communication.
In a digital age dominated by streaming services and curated playlists, the act of creating a mixtape may seem outdated. However, Nick Hornby's comparison of making a tape to writing a letter highlights the thoughtful and deliberate process of crafting a compilation of songs. Just as a letter requires careful consideration of words and sentences, making a mixtape involves selecting and arranging tracks in a meaningful way. In a world of instant gratification, the art of making mixtapes serves as a reminder of the value of thoughtful curation and creativity.
“To me, making a tape is like writing a letter – there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again, and I wanted it to be a good one.” - Nick Hornby
When creating a playlist for a special occasion, such as a road trip or a party, I always keep Nick Hornby's words in mind.
Just like crafting a letter, making a mixtape requires careful consideration of the order of songs and the overall vibe you want to create.
Nick Hornby compares making a mixtape to writing a letter, emphasizing the care and thoughtfulness that goes into creating a personal compilation of songs for someone else. This quote invites us to reflect on the process of crafting something for someone else's enjoyment. Consider the following questions:
How do you approach creating something for someone else versus creating something for yourself?
What do you think makes a mixtape or playlist “a good one”? What elements do you consider when curating music for someone else?
In what ways do you think creating a mixtape or playlist can serve as a form of communication or expression of emotions?
“I spent hours putting that cassette together. To me, making a tape is like writing a letter - there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again, and I wanted it to be a good one. . . A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention, and then you've got to up it a notch, or cool it a notch. . . oh, there are loads of rules. (pg. 88-9)”
“A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention (I started with 'Got To Get You Off My Mind', but then realised that she might not get any further than track one, side one if I delivered what she wanted straight away, so I buried it in the middle of side two), and then you've got to up it a notch, and you can't have white music and black music together, unless the white music sounds like black music, and you can't have two tracks by the same artist side by side, unless you've done the whole thing in pairs, and ... oh there are loads of rules.”
“You see, what I really want, and what I'm getting with Stephen, is the opportunity to rebuild myself from scratch. David's picture of me is complete now, and I'm pretty sure neither of us likes it much; I want to rip the page out and start again on a fresh sheet, just like I used to do when I was a kid and had messed a drawing up. It doesn't even matter who the fresh sheet is, really, so its beside the point whether I like Stephen, or whether he knows what to do with me in bed, or anything like that. I just want his rapt attention when I tell him that my favorite book is Middlemarch, and i just want that feeling, the feeling I get with him, of having not gone wrong yet”
“This is the second Simply Red song on this tape. One's unforgivable. Two's a war crime. Can I fast-forward?”
“I was still owed an explanation, I thought, but so what? What good was it going to do me? It wouldn't have made me any happier. It was like scratching when you have chicken pox. You think it's going to help, but the itch moves over, and then moves over again. My itch suddenly felt miles away, and I couldn't have reached it with the longest arms in the world. Realizing that made me scared that I was going to be itchy forever, and I didn't want that.”
“And I don’t know what difference it made, this sudden flash. It wasn’t like I wanted to, you know, grab life in a passionate embrace and vow never to let it go until it let go of me. In a way, it makes things worse, not better. Once you stop pretending that everything’s shitty and you can’t wait to get out of it, which is the story I’d been telling myself for a while, then it gets more painful, not less. Telling yourself life is shit is like an anesthetic, and when you stop taking the Advil, then you really can tell how much it hurts, and where, and it’s not like that kind of pain does anyone a whole lot of good.”