Luke Dery: The Road Back from Hell

Luke Dery: The Road Back from Hell
By David Flick
(via RollingStone.com)

It's a rainy day as I approach Brooks Hall, a dormitory in the Central Area of the University of Massachusetts Amherst. I'm headed to interview Luke Dery, rising artist and dramatic figure, who attends this university. As I made my journey from the parking lot to the dorm itself, I began to draw connections between the man himself and the environment that he resides. I walk by roaring construction in almost every square foot, cars that speed over crosswalks without checking if anyone is crossing, and snotty college kids that are unaware of anyone's presence but themselves, and I slowly get a glimpse into the mind of the man I am about to speak too. The campus is rich with emotions and topics of interest that swirl in Dery's head. His creative spring, one could say.

As I reach the main door of the dorm, Dery is there, waiting for my arrival.

"Sorry for the bad weather," he says, and it's clear that he is sincere. He's wearing a pair of black jeans with a grey belt. On the right side of the belt is an autograph from Marky Ramone whom Dery met earlier this year. He's wearing a black button-up shirt which contrasts well with his now long hair.

We take the elevator up to his room. He makes a joke about how slow it is, and I agree. A scrappy notice on the right wall says it's past inspection by almost a year. When we reach his room, I am greeted with the sweet smell of Old Spice and laundry detergent. Apparently he has just taken a load out of the dryer. This cramped living quarters is strewn with clothes and sheets of lyrics, simple sheets of paper scrawled on with black pen. I'm tempted to pick one up just to admire what genius it may contain, but he seems to realize my temptation and warns my against it. Luke Dery is very private about his work.

He sits on his bed and I take a seat at his desk. On it rests his mini Marshall amp, a low budget device he loves to create that raw-sounding, played in your garage sound. Out of his window is a green hill. As I sit admiring the landscape before me, he offers me some Junior Mints. Since he is an avid Seinfeld fan, I dare not decline.

The room itself is a spectacle. It seems that Dery has crafted it to be vastly different than the gloom I saw as I walked here in the rain. He mentions that the campus is usually very beautiful, but the life of spring has not yet fully shown itself.

Before we begin, Dery confronts me.

"Everything I say today, I say once. Never again. It all comes out now or never."

I agree to respect his wishes, and we begin.

DF: You recently picked up guitar. Quite a feat for someone as busy as you. You must be quite talented.

LD: (Laughs) Maybe. I played piano for years when I was little so music just comes easy to me now. I played Trombone in high school, too. (Snickers). I remember hating it when I had to read music. I'm pretty sure for the two years I played in band, I didn't read a single note.

DF: So you were horrible then?

LD: No, no. I just improvised everything. I had an ear for what sounded good, so I went by that. I did a solo once during my Spring concert back in 2009. That was on the Trombone, which is funny to solo with. All the slides and whatnot. Everyone clapped so I figured I must have done well. Some red-headed girl even gave me a standing ovation. No idea who that was. (Laughs)

DF: So you already had two instruments in your pocket. Why learn a third?

LD: Gosh, I don't know. Guitar is just so much more versatile and accessible. Nothing can really match a guitar in that respect. If you carry a guitar around with you, people automatically treat you better than they would normally. Similar to if you drive a nice car.

DF: Why is that?

LD: People are afraid of others who are more talented than them. When they size you up, you've already got the upper hand. Plus, normally when you meet a stranger, they know nothing about you. Showing a guitar automatically gives them food for conversation. They feel like they know you well.

But, back on topic. All the music I love is played with mainly guitar. I wanted to live up to my idols.

DF: Who are these idols that inspired you?

LD: Oh gosh, so many. I like to think of my music as something new. I hate music that is derivative. Most of the stuff on the radio is the same crap over and over again. That's not what music is about. It's about being unique. It's about being special. I love bands with dirty sounding records. Riffs life riding a brontosaurus. Just straight up rocking. Proving yourself instead of hiding behind a computer. I'd say my music is a cross between Green Day and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Maybe even some Rolling Stones rawness in there. It's a new sound, honestly. It messes with my head sometimes.

DF: As a person like myself who's never been in the rock world, or even learned an instrument, tell me how your life changed after picking up guitar.

LD: God, so much is different. I think you just have the aura of power that you didn't have before. People look at you differently, mainly because when you play guitar you have to get some sick tattoos, so people are like "Oh look at that guy's tattoos." The judgment is brutal in the music world though. I can't tell you how many times people have screamed out "You suck!" or "Put that tuneless piece of crap away!" while I'm playing. Kids just hate rock music so much that they trash anyone who plays it. If anything, rock is back where it was when it first was born. Barely clinging for life. I've changed internally for sure. It's almost like you're carrying the weight of that guitar with you everywhere you go.

DF: Is that a heavy weight?

LD: It is if it's a Gibson. (Laughs)

DF: Any hints about material you're working with now.

LD: Well like I said before, it's like a new sound. I think it's one of the most creative periods of my career so far. It's a big sound, but at the same time it isn't. At this point I'm just trying to do my best on each song and see where it all takes me.

DF: Any clues on some of the material?

LD: (Laughs) You wish. But beautiful things don't need attention. (Smiles)

DF: (Laughs). Well anyway, how is college life?

LD: Rough. It's so hard to balance everything, you know. Back in the day, people had it so easy. You didn't even have to go to college 80 yrs ago. I think the main issue in life is that there's one path that you can take, and that's the college path. Everything is so controlled. That's why I'm so lucky to have this music thing going for me. It lets me express myself and make money without following this internalized system. But college... it's like a cluster of ignorance and pretentiousness, and I'm definitely part of it.

DF: I know that this is a touchy subject, but tell me a bit about your addiction.

LD: (Pauses). Guess I should. God, I got hooked on soda. Root Beer mainly, but it got to a point where I'd take anything to get through the day. I'd wake up at 10am and pound a half-filled Root Beer leftover from the night before. I needed it to keep me energized. But it got out of hand. I'd be with my friends, all hanging out drinking Root Beer, and everyone would quit after a few rounds. They'd all look at me as I kept going. I was out of control.

DF: Any negative affects of that kind of behavior?

LD: Lots of cavities. Two to be exact. And it sucked because I pride myself on my dental hygiene. I put a lot of effort into keeping my oral health, and I just blew it.

DF: Any plans for recovery?

LD: Detoxing with tap water, probably.

DF: How was your bird-watching trip in Sweden? Did you see any birds?

LD: No

DF: Shame. Well you know where the final question is headed...

LD: (Laughs) Yeah, my "mid-teen" crisis.

DF: Tell me about it.

LD: Well it's rough, you know. Buried in between all this work and happiness is a very fragile figure. Everyone is soft on the inside. I think people my age are all searching for something, and it scares us. When you feel like something is missing, you can't relax. It's not human nature. And no one feeling this way really knows what's missing, which makes it worse. You're on a hunt with no map and no idea what you're shooting at. For me, I needed to burn down the house to figure out where I lost my mind. I needed to deconstruct myself so I could find the missing cog in the machine. But even after that, there's still a gap. It's a really sad truth about human existence. Every has this gap inside them. You see kids everywhere becoming adults with no idea of who they are or what they want. They just jump from one thing to the other. There's no self-reflection...no backbone...no one gave them those things. Everyone is afraid of who they are. Reality scares me, I guess.

DF: Any advice for people younger than you going through life with those same questions?

LD: Look, I always say you just have to live in the moment. You never know what the future is going to bring. I mean, I don't have any clue what the heck I'm doing. I don't know where I'm going. I never do! But the important thing is...well...to sometimes think about the future, but stay in the moment at the same time. It's about creating memories. When you look back from your death bed, what do you want to remember?

DF: So what's next?

LD: (Laughs). Life.

Facing It

       

          The clock just turned to midnight. In other words, it’s time. I’m waiting by the window in my house. I live in a nice neighborhood. There are lots of trees and kids around. Everyone keeps their yards looking real spiffy, and Emily and I have a nice garden in the backyard. It’s too dark to see any of this now, so I’m pretty much just staring at the street. I’m looking at the part that the streetlight is illuminating, hoping that some squirrel stops by to eat a nut, or that some leaves blow by like a tornado.

            I’m looking out the window waiting for my friends to come along. We’re going out tonight to this special gathering. It only happens twice a year. It’s called the Scum Stomping and it’s the first one I’m going to go to. My three friends have all been to one before. Jay has gone to five, I think. Maybe only four. I’ve been really busy with college, so I haven’t been able to attend one with them. They’re happy that I can come now that I’ve finished up my graduate work. I’m going to be a social worker.

            I don’t know much about Scum Stomping. My friends told me that there are these terrible people. They hurt others but never get in trouble for it. There’s also some who are poor. They spend all their money on drugs and alcohol. They’re a huge problem and nobody can stand them. These people live in their own communities now. I guess a long time ago they lived amongst the common people. People like me and my friends. That must have been horrible! I’ve never seen a poor person, but I’ve heard they look horrible. They have big, black eyes. The whiteness around their eyes is gone; it’s blood red instead. Their skin is dry and thick like hardened mud. Oh, and I heard that they don’t have noses or ears; they have holes instead.

            They have weird traditions. They never shave their beards or wash their bodies. James says it’s the practice of their cult. They worship some weird god being and their religion is pretty corrupt. They won’t work because of it. It’s against the commands of their god to uphold a steady job. Some say that they’re just lazy, though. All I know is that they don’t even sound human. I guess that makes them pretty bad. So on Scum Stomping day, a ton of people go and attack the poor communities. They drive them out of their makeshift homes. Some people hurt them, but I’m not comfortable with that.

            The van is finally here. Eddy said to pack light so that the poor people wouldn’t steal our stuff. I have a water canteen, a pack of matches, and a piece of plywood. I’m wearing jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. I pull the hood over my hair and walk out the door.

            It’s pretty cold out. I’m thinking how dumb these poor people are living outside in this weather. People make really dumb choices, I guess. They follow dumb religions. James slides open the van door. He looks pretty happy. I get in the right seat of the middle row. It’s Jay’s car. I sit on something wet. It’s a juicebox, probably from one of Jay’s kids. He says he’s sorry and that the car’s a mess. He looks pretty stressed. Eddy looks pretty worried, but he says “hello” and asks me how I’m doing. I say that I’m fine.

            It’s a long ride to the gathering point, so James decides that we should share stories. He tells us why he loves Scum Stomping. The poor people are taking away our money. The government pays for them to survive and it comes out of our paychecks, he says. They’re barely human, he says. We don’t pay our dogs, so why pay them? I guess he has a point.

            Jay says that poor people are a bad influence. They steal and drink and smoke. They’re too inhumane and uncivilized. He thinks they’re holding back evolution.

            Eddy says they stole his groceries once when he was pushing his cart to his car. Some poor guy jumped out from behind a vehicle and shoved him over and took the cart. Eddy followed him and eventually found the cart on the side of the road, empty. The poor guy left all the vegetables. Eddy says that’s because they don’t eat healthy and only want food’s instant taste pleasures. Eddy says that a poor guy stole his shoes too. He’s been missing his favorite pair of black shoes for a month now. It was probably the same poor guy, he says.

            It’s my turn but I don’t have anything to say. They say that it’s O.K. and that I’ll finally see how terrible these people are once we get to the gathering point.

            We pull into a dirt road in the woods. Jay dims the car headlights and starts driving more slowly. We go over a hill and I see hundreds of little lights. We park next to some other cars and quickly get out of the car and into the dark woods. Jay is wearing a light jacket and brown pants. Eddy is dressed like me. James has full cameo on along with boots and a baseball cap. He’s carrying a hunting knife.

            We walk down a slight hill towards the lights. Hundreds of people are there, all murmuring quietly. They have flashlights and lanterns. A lot of them have objects in their hands, which I think are various types of weapons. We wait for almost an hour. I look at my watch. It’s two in the morning. Why am I not tired?

            Some tall man gets up on a boulder and starts yelling. He wants the group to break into four smaller…well…patrols as he calls them. Everyone starts to move and I follow my friends. Jay is breathing pretty deeply. So is Eddy. James is the opposite. He looks excited and angry. The tall man yells again. This time he is making a speech. I’m not really paying attention. It’s cold and I’m thinking about how nice it must be at home right now. I wonder if Emily misses me. She’s probably asleep like she was when I left.

            Jay hits me in the back. The crowd is moving, and he’s alerting me. I didn’t even notice. We move slowly and most of the talking has died down. The woods are black and all I can see are the backs of the people in front of me. Some guy is wearing a bright yellow jacket, and I’m thinking how dumb he was to put that on before coming here. All I can hear is the crunching of feet on the ground and the occasional howl of a wolf.

            Suddenly, the remaining soft whispers turn to silence. The slow walking turns to a standstill. I try to look between the people in front of me to see what’s going on. I can’t make out much. There’s a big camp up ahead. It looks like a bunch of tents with torches stuck in the ground at various points. They’re lighting up the ground and tents around them, sort of like the streetlights in my neighborhood. The tents are set up in rows, as if they’re houses. I thought that was funny.

            Suddenly we start to move again, this time faster. We’re going into the camp. The poor neighborhood. People are pointing their lights at the ground. We keep moving faster, yet we’re not truly running. We reach the edge of the camp. The four groups split. My group goes to the right side of the camp. We keep walking until we get to the last tent, then we stop. Someone from our groups takes out some matches. I don’t understand why until he strikes the match and throws it at the tent. Nothing happens. Nobody moves. The edge of the tent starts smoldering, but it looks like it’s about to go out. The guy that threw the match motions to another man. The other man takes out a bottle of alcohol and moves over to the small flame. He says something softly. I think he says to give them what they want. Some other guy chimes in and says to kill them with their own medicine. The man with the alcohol bottle dumps it on the flame and runs. The tent explodes in flame.

            I start to panic. Suddenly a bunch of tents are going up in fire. The group splits up and starts running like mad everywhere all around the tents. The guy that threw the match also has some long piece of metal that looks like a pipe. He starts beating another tent with it. Then the screaming starts. It’s everywhere but nowhere. I can’t pinpoint it but it’s all around me. I run into the middle of the camp. I can’t even think straight. I see people crawling out of the tents. It’s too dark to see what they look like but they must be the poor people. Some guy runs out of tent and one of my people smacks him in the face with a crowbar. I cringe. I don’t feel safe. I run more, trying to dodge all of the fighting. I’m trying to find someone else who is here for their first time. Maybe we can talk about it. Try to figure out how to get involved. I see James. He’s far away but I can make out his body because of that hat he’s wearing. I yell to him, but he’s not listening. I see him chasing a few people and waving his knife. I’m glad he’s not stabbing them.

            I’m scared to death that I’ll run into a poor person. Their disgusting faces will probably mentally scar me. They’ll probably bite me or try to kill me. I don’t know why I came. I don’t want to be around these strange creatures.

            Eddy is on the ground in front of me. He’s screaming and it looks like his arm is gashed open. He’s saying how one of the poor people stabbed him. Another guy is with Eddy and telling people what happened. Eddy tried to hit one of the poor people so they stabbed him back. One guy yells that this time these people are getting out of hand. That they’re gaining confidence and getting violent. I see what he means. Sometimes I yell at my dog, but I would never expect it to yell back.

            Eddy sees me and tells me to do something. He tells me to stop standing around and teach the scumbags a lesson. I tell him that I will try and run away. I start looking for Jay when suddenly I trip. I fall right on top of someone. He groans and I roll off of him. I look at his face and he stares right back at me. He looks petrified. His arm is limp and his sleeve is burned. I think he’s part of my group, but he yells at me to get away. I tell him that it’s ok and that I’m not a poor person. I ask him if he needs help. He doesn’t respond. I ask him again and he says to leave him alone. He starts to stand up and I get a glimpse of his shoes. They’re black, like Eddy’s. I grab his leg and pull him down.

            He falls into the dirt and now he can’t get up. His arm must be broken because he can’t push himself up to his feet. He’s panting and starts to cry. He’s forcing air between his teeth. I pull him closer and tell him to stay still. He does. I crawl over a bit and look at his face. It’s shaven. His eyes are blue, just like Emily’s. He has a nose and ears like I do, and his skin is smooth. Dirty, but smooth underneath the grime. He’s crying, and it sounds human. I keep staring at him and his tears clean the dirt off of his face. I don’t understand. I need to know.

            I stand up and pull him up too. I help him limp out the camp and into the woods. I keep walking and he keeps staggering. We’re both breathing deeply, almost in rhythm. He says he hears it. I ask what and then I hear it too. It’s moving water. It’s getting closer and suddenly we fall into it. It’s cold and shallow. I drag myself out of the stream and he follows. We sit on the side of the stream and I start making a fire with the leaves. We just keep sitting there and I keep staring at his face. The more I stare the more it looks like mine. I ask him his name and he says it’s John. I say that his name seems normal and he looks at me, confused. I ask him if he lives in the camp and he says he does. He doesn’t seem to want to talk. He smells like fire.

            I look away for a few minutes and he asks me when I’m going to kill him. I’m shocked and say that I won’t. He says that I should. That he wants to be with his mother and father in heaven. I find it weird that their cult has a heaven, just like my religion does. I ask him how his parents got to heaven and he says that he doesn’t know. He says he never met them. He says that he used to live in things called “foster homes” before they got shut down. I ask him what they are and he says hell. I would have asked more questions, but I’m too focused on where his drugs are and how drunk he could be at the moment. I feel so weird treating this man kindly when everyone else hates him. I tell him to take all the drugs out of his pockets and throw them in the water. He says he has none. I’m feeling tough and grab his coat and rip it off of him. I go through the pockets and they’re empty, so I throw the coat back at him.

            I hear yelling and we both turn. He says it’s the guys from the camp coming to hide, and that I better take off. I could care less. I’m confused that his breath doesn’t smell like booze. I say that I better find my car. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to leave. I give John my matches and my water. I have a few bucks with me and give him all of it. He thanks me and I start running.

            The woods are quickly flying by me. They suddenly feel like a home away from home. I don’t understand why the more I learn, the more confused I get. The more I see, the more foreign the next room feels. It’s getting bright out, but slowly. My watch says that it’s five in the morning. I’m back at the camp and it’s burning. Someone is yelling my name. It’s Jay. I run to him and he starts yelling at me and asking where I’ve been. I tell him I got lost. We run back to the car and jump in. Eddy is in the passenger seat and James is in the back.

            Eddy has a cloth around his bleeding arm and James looks tired and scared. I ask him what his problem is. Eddy tells me that James was the one that cut his arm. James flips out and says that he thought Eddy was a poor person. Jay tells them to shutup. The ride home is silent.

            Jay drops me off last and I tell him that I don’t want to go to the next Scum Stomping. I say that it was nice to try but it’s not for me. He says he understands. He wishes me a good night and drives off.

            I walk to my house across the grass. I look into the darkened window and look at myself. My face is bloody and dirty. My hands are dry. My ear is cut. My eyes are dark in the shadowed window reflection. My clothes are stained and torn. I walk back to the street and sit on the curb. The light is forcing itself through the clouds, but I can still see in the light of the street lamp. I don’t want to go inside. I want to look around. I want to breathe the air and feel part of it. Feel and smell of nature. It’s uncomfortably cold outside, but I want to stay there and sit just to feel what it’s like.

Local Man Realizes That All the Fun Actually Does Happen When He's Gone

An area man left a friend's party last week, only to come back and realize that all his friends had won millions of dollars while he was away. "You know, it's definitely true when people say 'All the fun happens when you're away'," said the obviously disappointed man, Gary. "I used to think that they were just complainers or exaggerators, but it's totally true!" While Gary went to pick up some chips during the party, the ten other party-goers were visited by a special TV show that gives away money. "They promised they'd save Charades for when I got back. But no, the stupid TV show guy played it with them," said an angered Gary. This is the second time that Gary has missed the hanging out excitement. Last weekend his friends won free pizza from a local pizza shop. "There was plenty pizza left when Gary got back," said Paul, another friend, in defense, "But as soon as he got back the dog and cat leaped out of nowhere and swiped all the rest of it." Gary's friends were very sorry, but would not vow to never let Gary leave their gatherings, fearing that without his usual absence the party would be particularly boring.

Bad Pizza Leads to Team Success

Boston, MA - After receiving a pizza of terrible quality from local pizza giant "Uncle Jub's Pizza," players of the Boston Red Sox have been getting their revenge by abusing "Uncle Jub's" game promotion. Uncle Jub's promised that if the Red Sox hit four home runs in one game, every person in the crowd would receive a free slice of Uncles Jub's plain pizza for that game. The Red Sox players were appalled before the first game of the season when the pizza they received from Uncle Jub's was burnt, dry, and cold. "It was a horrible experience for us," said one pitcher. "When your sitting in the locker room waiting for a hot pizza and you get a piece of crap, it really hurts. It's traumatic." The players have been planning their revenge since that day, a day that they have called "Uncle Jub's Deadness," which symbolizes how Uncle Jub's pizza became "dead" to them after the horrific incident. They are now taking their revenge by playing extremely well and making Uncle Jub's have to give away a lot of free pizza. In the Red Sox's first 20 games, they have hit 4 home runs in 18 of them. With an average attendance of 35,000 people, this has resulted in a total of 630,000 free slices of pizza. In fact, many Uncle Jub's pizza joints have had to shut down due to lack of supplies. "I've never seen them this determined," said the Red Sox's manager. "They swing the bat very hard. They're actually earning their salaries." Players have reported that they don't care about pitch location or aiming the ball. "We just thrash at anything that comes our way, pretending it's that stupid pizza boy's head," said the first baseman. In an effort to copy the Sox's recent success, Baltimore tried a similar food-related act when they had rotten bananas from local shop "Banana-Banza" fed to all of the players. This failed, however, when all of the players went down with a major food-borne illness.

NBA Lockout Ends With "Good Deal"

The NBA lockout has officially ended, and the NBA owners think that they got a "pretty good deal" out of the agreement. With the players refusing to accept a lower percentage of the revenue, the owners declared that they would split the earning 50/50, but only under one condition. "The owners have accepted the players' terms, with the addition that all NBA players must all wear Ballerina dresses on Opening Day," said the commissioner. The owners all began to giggle in the press room after that statement. Reportedly, the players will all don team themed ballerina dresses and wear heavy glitter when they play on opening day. The suits, supplied by the NBA, have already been prepared, costing the owners a grand total of $20 million. This is a move that owners call "long-awaited" and "wicked funny." "This will do miracles for the NBA," said the commissioner. "In a game that features hissy fits, throwing a ball around, and showing off, the only thing that was missing was some guys in tutus." In other news, the members of the Miami heat have been named the performer for the All Star game and will be performing a basketball rendition of "It's Raining Men" in coordinated yellow raincoats.

Frosty the Snowman is the Pop-Culture Jesus?

While listening to the classic Christmas song "Frosty the Snowman," I noticed some major similarities that the Frosty has with the story of the Passion of the Christ in the Bible.

The first clue come from the following line:
"Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say..."
This comments on how society views Jesus as a "fairy tale."

"...he could laugh and play just the same as you and me."
Similar to the part-human nature of Jesus.

"Frosty the snowman knew the sun was hot that day. So he said, "Let's run and have some fun now before I melt away."
Like Jesus, frosty predicted his own death. The "hot sun" also symbolizes the anger of the Pharisees brewing against Jesus.

Frosty then goes "down to the village" and "led them down the streets of town." These events sound very similar to how Jesus paraded down the streets of Jerusalem along with his followers a bit before his death.

Frosty is then led to a traffic cop, who commands him to stop. This is similar to the guards who arrested Jesus and ordered him to stop his "false preaching."

Finally, Frosty declares that he "[will] be back again someday," which is similar to how Jesus promised to return some time in the future.

I hope you all enjoyed this post.

War Veteran Says Dodging Adele on Radio is Like Crawling in a Mine Field

Vietnam veteran General Stapless is voicing his frustration with mainstream music, saying that avoiding an Adele song on the radio is both harder and scarier than sneaking through mine fields in Vietnam. "I fought in 'Nam for four years. Nothing was scarier than walking through a deserted landscape, hoping that mines didn't litter the place. Nothing...until that gal." Stapless says that he used to love music. But now when he climbs into his 1981 pickup truck, he's too petrified to turn on the radio. "Something's Deep," what he thinks the song "Rolling in the Deep" is called, is simply too horrible to listen to. "Music isn't as grand as it was in my day, but this song is downright terrifying." The song is so harmful to Stapless that his doctor has ordered him to never listen to it. "As if the pitchy notes and apathetic attitude of the song aren't enough, they have to play it constantly on the radio," says his doctor, who finds the song both medically unhealthy and not something he wants his friends to see on his MP3 player. "I'd rather run through a barrage of bullets or drink pure agent orange than listen to that horrible song," says Stapless, who admits that the song makes him more depressed than his war memories. Stapless' family puts him to sleep at night promising Adele won't recover from her vocal surgery, which makes him feel much better. With Rolling in the Deep fading away, Stapless' family is hoping he never realizes that "Someone Likes You" (his interpretation of Someone Like You) is not a 1920's love ballet, but another song in which Adele complains about boy problems.