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    Summary

    Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014
    “Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

    Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015
    “Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale."

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  2. 23 Jan 2020

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    Bookmark Notes:

    This is BRILLIANT. SO BRILLIANT. Non-linear narrative and dual POV but everything is so tight and perfect, 122k and I couldn’t put it down. The beginnings of their band and how Derek left on the cusp of fame, the ups and lows of stardom and how they made everything meaningful again. I’m floored, it’s so fucking beautiful and exquisitely written. Their voices are honest and it’s portrayal of the life on the road and the music industry is one of the most authentic I’ve read.

     
    [excerpt]:
    At the end of ‘Buoyant,’ he had raised the bottle to the audience and purred into the mic: “To Derek Hale, everybody.” They cheered as he downed the rest of the bottle and turned to set it down on Lydia’s platform. He was drunk and flushed but functioning. Derek saw his hands shaking. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean a thing.

    But his hands don’t shake when he sleeps and Derek, despite all his efforts and desires, cannot stop thinking about him or worrying about him. It doesn’t feel as unhealthy as Derek thought it would.

    The book finally slips out of Stiles’ grip and his eyes open a sliver. Derek picks it up without thinking, glances at the cover and gently sets it down beside him.

    “Der…” Stiles says. His voice sounds brutal. He can’t keep his eyes open.

    Derek is touching Stiles’ cheek before he can even mentally process the action. His skin is smooth but hot to the touch. “Go back to sleep,” Derek says.

    And with a sweet and familiar smile playing at his lips, he does. It doesn’t mean a thing, it doesn’t mean a thing…

    He's reading Big Sur for what has to be the fifteenth time. The same old copy. Bent and water-damanged and ancient. Derek is surprised it isn't falling apart. Derek knows that if he looked at the inside of the front cover, he'd see his own handwriting ("Derek Hale") with Stiles's beneath it ("loves Stiles Stilinski"). It doesn't matter, it doesn't mean a thing but it takes every ounce of effort Derek has left in his body to leave him.

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