Becoming Drowned in Sound is Better the Second Time Around

It’s come to my attention that the more my education looms over me, the more I pursue a career. I’m about halfway through my second semester at University of Sheffield (going swimmingly, tah very much), things are picking up and I’m starting to feel the burn. Yet all I can think about is pushing myself further and further into music journalism. Okay, so that’s not my internal discourse verbatim (Look at me, using long, fancy words. I did a Philosophy module last semester) In fact, this past week even, my thoughts have also gravitated towards the unruly nature of my fringe, the empty nature of my fridge and that age old question, which seat should I taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake? The last one is a lie. But damn it, that song‘s more of an ear-worm than, well, this:

Yeup.

ANYWHO. The point is, I’m conflicted. A lot of my course (Journalism, in case you didn’t know/hadn’t guessed) is interesting; finding out different sources for information, having angry Libyans asking if I could pass a message on to  David Cameron (“Fuck off!” and *checks notes* “Kiss my ass!”), learning more about the Iraq inquiries (seeing as my coursemates and I were far too preoccupied with the wonders of prepubescence when all that was going on) and finding out exactly how the much the internet knows about you. But then there’s  parts of it which suck. Like shorthand (I want a Dictaphone for my birthday) and the weekly, two hour onslaught of rather-stab-your-own-cheeks-with-a-nail-file-Black-Swan-stylee tedium that is Public Administrations. I want to write about rock stars, not councillors. A heady dream, but it’s one I’m sticking with. Although, what with Chief Councillor Paul Scriven releasing this little number over the Winter, these two phenomena may become one:

Sexy. But I digress.

These past few weeks, I’ve found myself –  amongst other not-so-productive things – applying for music editor positions, blogging roles for an affordable vintage clothing fair, taking up a proposition from a rock zine and generally listening to more music than I have done in quite some time. In fact, probably since the last time I was bolted to the ground by the oppressive nail gun of Higher Education: A Levels. Admittedly there weren’t as many opportunities with regards to writing about music in my little town of Pontypridd, but I still had access to the internet and it’s bounty of new songs, EPs, albums, bands and genres that are just THERE for the listening. So that’s what I did. And what I’m doing now.

What with both Britney and The Strokes’ comeback albums being leaked online within about a week of each other, two slices of the pie that is my taste in music were covered in the gravy of satisfaction. Which is a lot less icky than it sounds. Miss Spears has created an all-dancefloor-filler-no-reputation-killer beaut and The Strokes have reminded us of why they’re so damn vital. I’ve had ‘Under Cover of Darkness’ as the elevator music of my subconscious for a fair amount of time now:

Sexy. But I digress.

Keeping with The Strokes for a moment, my question is: is this it? Am I stuck in a cycle of diverting stress by chasing the dream? When the going gets tough, the tough updates their iPod. I know I should knuckle down, but I’m a last minute kinda gal – I’m at my best when I’m under pressure. Therefore, can I only conclude that all this opportunity grabbing is a good thing? Getting more experience, whilst gearing up to for those weekend-before-the-deadline essay writing sessions. Productive, if not destructive to my nervous system. Besides, I’m only a First Year. I should probably enjoy the option of “winging it” while I can.