Music Brings Two People Together in “Deep Cuts”: Read an Excerpt Here! (Exclusive)
In Holly Brickley's debut novel, two people are brought together and torn apart by their shared love for music
Crown Publishing Group; Susan Seubert
Holly Brickley debut novel 'Deep Cuts'Music is a powerful force that can bring people together in an instant, and Holly Brickley’s debut novel Deep Cuts (out March 4, 2025) explores how quickly that can bring two people together — and pull them apart.
Brickley’s novel focuses on the electric relationship between music fans and Berkeley college students Percy Marks and Joe Morrow from their first meeting at a bar nearby. Joe — an aspiring songwriter — asks Percy for feedback on a song he worked on, which begins a passionate, multi-year musical partnership that skyrockets Joe into indie-rock stardom.
“Deep Cuts examines the nature of talent, obsession, belonging and above all, our need to be heard,” says a statement from the publisher. Below, read an exclusive excerpt from the book.
Crown Publishing Group
Holly Brickley novel 'Deep Cuts'He caught me singing along to some garbage song. It was the year 2000 so you can take your pick of soulless hits — probably a boy band, or a teenage girl in a crop top, or a muscular man with restricted nasal airflow. I was waiting for a drink at a bar, spaced out; I didn’t realize I’d been singing until his smile floated into the periphery of my vision and I felt impaled by humiliation.
“Terrible song,” I said, forcing a casual tone. “But it’s an earworm.”
We knew each other in that vague way you can know people in college, without ever having been introduced or had a conversation. Joey, they called him, though I decided in that moment the diminutive did not suit him; he was too tall, for one. He put an elbow on the bar and said, “Is an earworm ever terrible, though, if it’s truly an earworm?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s doing what it set out to do,” he said. “It’s effective. It’s catchy.”
“Dick Cheney is effective,” I said. “Nazis were catchy.”
The grin spread again.
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The bartender slid me a beer and I took it gratefully, holding the cold pint glass against my cheekbone. The song ended and a clash of bar sounds filled its void: ice shaking in tin, shuffleboard pucks clacking, a couple seated at the bar hollering in dismay at a TV suspended above the bartender’s head. Joe ordered a drink and began pulling crumpled bills from his jeans pocket. I was about to walk back to my booth when “Sara Smile” by Hall and Oates began to play, and he let out a moan.
“What a perfect song.” His hand shot into the tall dark pile of curls atop his head, then clawed its way down his cheek as he listened.
Hall and Oates! I loved Hall and Oates! They were a rare jukebox selection for the time — a band whose ’80s sound was seen as cheesy by most people I knew, too recent to be recycled, though that wouldn’t last much longer. I leaned against the bar next to him and listened to the gorgeous, sultry first verse.
“Actually,” I said, unable to stop myself, “I would call this a perfect track, a perfect recording. Not a perfect song.” I could tell he already halfway understood but I explained anyway, with a level of detail befitting an idea of far greater complexity: “A perfect song has stronger bones. Lyrics, chords, melody. It can be played differently, produced differently and it will almost always be great. Take ‘Both Sides, Now,’ if you’ll excuse me being that girl in a bar talking about Joni Mitchell — any singer who doesn’t completely suck can cover that song and you’ll be drowning in goosebumps, right?”
It was a leap of faith that he’d even know the song, but he gave a swift nod. “Totally.”
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I ducked to avoid being swallowed by the armpit of a tall guy receiving a drink from the bartender. Joe’s eyes stayed on me, focused like spotlights, so I kept going. “Now, ‘Sara Smile’ — can you imagine anyone besides Daryl Hall singing this, exactly as he sang it on this particular day?”
Joe cocked his ear. Daryl Hall responded with a long, elegant riff.
I jabbed my finger in the air, tracing the melody. “See? The most beautiful part of the verse is just him riffing. A great song — and I’m talking about the pop-rock world here, obviously — can be improved by riffing, or ruined by riffing. But it cannot rely on riffing.”
Joe didn’t look smug or bored, which were the reactions these kinds of tangents had historically won me. He didn’t give me a lecture about relativism while air-quoting the phrase “good music.” He just lifted his bottle of Budweiser, paused it at his lips and took a drink.
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The tall guy beside us smacked his shoulder and Joe’s eyes lit up with recognition, so it seemed we were done. But before I could leave, he turned back. “What’s your name again?” He squinted at me rather severely, like I was a splinter he was trying to tweeze.
“Percy,” I said. “Bye.”
Deep Cuts by Holly Brickley will be released on March 4, 2025 from Crown, an imprint of Penguin Random House, and is available for preorder now, wherever books are sold.
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