Maude Latour | Uncovered Presented by Squarespace

Hey, I'm Maud Latour, and this is Uncovered.

I fell in love with how you emphasize your sentences, and I got a crush on the shape of your name on my phone. Then I fell harder for your '50s movies references, The world is smaller with you. Maybe I'm not so alone.

Or maybe we're alone together.

Now you're packing up your bedroom on the west side, so I bring you breakfast, then we lie on the floor of my apartment. Isn't it alarming? It was October, January, almost July. Here's a toast to getting older. Now we're young and soon we'll die.

Nothing lasts forever. One more weekend in the city.

Break up for the summer, leave me all on my own.

One more weekend, can you kiss me? Tell me that you miss me even if you won't.

I guess my memories get better with the distance, so I made a list of all the reasons why I felt conflicted. Teaching me to drive your parents' car around your high school parking lot.

Michigan seems like a dream, but I woke up and I forgot.

And nothing lasts forever.

One more weekend in the city. Break up with the summer, leave me all on my own. One more weekend. Can you kiss me? Tell me that you'll miss me even if you won't. 'Cause I know you won't. 'Cause I know you won't.

'Cause I know you won't.

And maybe I've been lying to myself since last October, 'cause I saw you cross the campus and I wished it wasn't over. And I know you're late to class, but can I take I take back every single thing I said. If we just had one more weekend, could we try it all again?

And nothing lasts forever. One more weekend in the city. Wake up for the storm or leave me on my own. One more weekend, can you kiss me? Tell me that you miss me.

My name is Maud Latour. I'm 21. I'm from Mostly from New York City.

I—

how would I describe my music? I would say it is overly lyrical, overly detailed attempts to describe the mundane parts of life and make them a little more beautiful. That's how I would describe it. I was always in choirs and a cappella groups, and then I I just realized I could make songs that were personalized to me, and why would I not only want that? So then I started capturing everything that happened to me in songs, and I always kept a journal, but songs were just like a more perfect journal. You could capture exactly how it felt, and anyone could feel it too. I really do think these songs have a power to cure heartbreak, and I, I think they I hope it can help make you feel a little bit free, and I think that's important to find that beauty in life right now.

Thank you.

I'm probably gonna get hurt this weekend 'cause you and I ended and you like new beginnings too much. I mentioned that I hope we stay friends, but I regret what I said 'cause I heard what you told Emma and damn, I really hate your guts. I hate all your friends and I missed you so much, but I blocked all your texts. Wow, this party sucks, so I run and get my coat. Then you walk through the door. Who invited you, babe? 'Cause I can't see you anymore.

Oh no, I'm melting through the furniture.

Did someone turn the temperature up? 'Cause I'm slipping through the cracks in the floorboards to the apartment below us.

Oh no, I'm melting through the furniture.

Did someone turn the temperature up? 'Cause I'm slipping through the cracks in the floorboards to the apartment below us. I wish that we were more like a movie. I cry on my birthday, but you would make it up to me. All my friends feel like they're strangers. I don't wanna be famous, but I wanna sing until I drown. 'Cause when the music is loud and I'm in front of a crowd, I'm talking to God. I can tell that you're proud.

I guess there are no things forever. I know that now. But I still sink to the ground.

Oh no, I'm melting through the furniture.

Did someone turn the temperature up? 'Cause I'm slipping through the cracks in the floorboards to the apartment below us.

Oh no, I'm melting through the furniture.

Did someone turn the temperature up? 'Cause I'm slipping through the cracks in the floorboards to the apartment below us.

Apartment below us. Apartment below us. Apartment below us. Apartment below us.

Thank you.

The pandemic has shown exactly what digital communication brings to our lives. 50 years ago, obviously, an artist wouldn't have needed anything to do with a digital presence. Obviously, the internet was not invented. I started Um, by just posting videos on Instagram, like, in high school. Virtual world's the future whether we like it or not, so you may as well make a website. I do use Squarespace. In 5 years, I want to be playing Madison Square Garden. Mm-hmm. That's actually my real goal. That is on my whiteboard at home.

I remember when we first fell in love. Symphonies at the bus stop on a Tuesday. I was wearing blue Nike high tops. You were wearing a white dress. We were annotating Greek tragedies. I spent the next 8 months documenting my heart in voice memos, trying to write down my feelings in real time. Part of me knew it would slip through my fingers so quickly, like it always does. I guess I was too much for you. Or was I just not enough for you? I can never decide, so I analyze, replay all the scenes in my movie screen. How I pulled away and you made me pay. That weekend in May, that night in July. Blame it on summer, blame it on distance, blame it on me, on all my persistence.

That it's only chances and it's only timing, and if it were perfect, I wouldn't I shouldn't be crying on the floor of my dorm room. You wait in the lobby and you keep insisting and I keep on sobbing. So I just relive miscommunications and then I go back to our last conversation. Now you're leaning against the brick wall with your backpack on, baby. You look so much older than, than when I met you.

You.

I can't believe it's over. I watch our lives entangle. I guess that this is partway in.

I block your number, sorting through the nuances of conversation. Your inflection tells me if you mean it. Modern love is so damn romantic. The The irony of poor connection as we talk over FaceTime.

What a metaphor.

You say I remind you of fiction, a remarkable girl but also a nightmare.

You found it poetic and sometimes magnetic until you got sick of my psycho analysis. Like they always do. I'll blame it on summer.

I'll blame it on distance.

I'll blame it on you, on all your persistence, that it's only chances and it's only timing. And if it were perfect, I wouldn't be crying on the floor of my dorm room. You wait in the lobby and you keep insisting, and I keep on sobbing. So I just relive the deliberation. And then I go back to our last conversation. Now you're leaning against a brick wall with your backpack on, baby. You look so much older than, than when I met you. I can't believe it's over. I watched our lives entangle. I guess that this is the part when I'll blame it on summer, I'll blame it on distance, I'll blame it on you, on all your persistence, that it's only chances and it's only timing, and if it were perfect, I wouldn't be crying on the floor of my dorm room. You wait in the lobby and you keep insisting, and I keep on sobbing, and I just relive the deliberation. I'll blame it on me.

Thank you for having me.

Thank you.