Don't Look Back
GUEST POST: Matt Scottoline (Hurry)
In late 2024, Matt Scottoline of the Philadelphia band Hurry contributed a personal essay to Volume 4 of RTL’s now defunct Guitar Pop Journal. It was an introspective ode to a life in music centered around performing live with legendary Teenage Fanclub songwriter Gerard Love in Glasgow earlier that year. Hurry’s most recent 2026 single, “Moving After You,” features Love on backing vocals, so I wanted to share Matt’s excellent essay with you.
Don’t Look Back
By Matt Scottoline
Years ago, when I began writing songs in earnest, I sent a few of my demos to Rob DeCarolis, who would eventually become Hurry’s drummer.
In his feedback, he mentioned, “The songs really remind me of Teenage Fanclub.” ‘Uh…What is Teenage Fanclub?’ I thought, but my insecurity kept me from simply asking Rob. Instead, I swiped over to Google where I discovered my new favorite band.
Teenage Fanclub’s music has a lot of what I love in power pop: chiming guitars, tons of harmony, and memorable melodies. While the band has continued to evolve their sound over the years, those elements have remained consistent across their output.
I was soon knee-deep in the story of Norman Blake, Raymond McGinley, and Gerard (Gerry) Love, three songwriters who founded Teenage Fanclub and worked in harmony for decades to create album after album of pop bliss. I explored their catalog fervently, building intimate relationships with albums like Bandwagonesque, Grand Prix, and Songs From Northern Britain.
As I spent time listening to those records, I felt a more distinct connection to the songs written by Gerry who quickly became my favorite.
I was immediately drawn to his voice and melodies, and the ineffable sense of wistfulness they created in me. His songs could make me feel nostalgic, contemplative, and hopeful all at once. It was cosmic, really. Sometimes music just makes sense to you, and Gerry’s songs made perfect sense to me.
Since my initial discovery period with Teenage Fanclub, they’ve remained in constant rotation, while my relationship to their albums and songs has evolved and shifted over the years. More recently, Gerry’s song “Don’t Look Back” took on a deeper meaning for me as I found myself coping with the ending of a decade-long relationship. I was feeling rudderless and, in my lowest moments, I had given up most hope for a happy future. It all just felt kind of insurmountable.
Obviously, I made it through. A big part of processing that experience was recognizing where things had actually been going badly in that relationship, and how it may not have been as full and rich as I had perceived it to be. I’d find myself listening to “Don’t Look Back” and ruminating on the chorus lyrics: Don’t look back on an empty feeling.
Naturally, a big part of my healing was writing the next Hurry album.
As far as my own music was concerned at the time, I was in a little bit of a rut. My previous album, Fake Ideas, had come out during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and while I was really proud of that album—and it did well enough—it hadn’t been a super satisfying release. I was overall feeling some disconnect from music and creativity in general, and a little bit of burnout.
Over the decade or so that I’ve been writing songs, I’ve imagined giving up so many times. Industries have been built around most art forms that churn out self-doubt, envy, and fear on perfectly optimized assembly lines. There have been countless moments where it really felt like there was no “point” in what I was doing, and that I’d have to be a complete idiot to dump even more time, energy, and soul into this thing. My love of music and songwriting would always inevitably bring me back, but it did get harder and harder the older I got.
This negativity weighed on me pretty heavily when I started putting together the songs for my latest album. I was feeling uninspired and ambivalent, so it took me a long time to write them. And when it came to recording the album, I felt like I had to make a conscious decision to do something different in order to shake up my brain.
That led me to my good friend Ian Farmer, an incredibly talented musician and engineer who embodies the exact inverse of all the crippling feelings of self-loathing I just outlined. Ian lives and breathes music and you can see it gives him life. Every moment I spend with him is like a creative shot in the arm. Engaging with someone like him helps me reconnect with why I love being a musician.
So, I decided to record the album with Ian at his studio in Philadelphia. I could not have made a better decision.
Ian’s infectious joy made me feel excited about my own creative process again, which was something I wasn’t sure I was still capable of. We finished the album after a few months of work, and when it came time to finalize the package and give it a name, there was one phrase that kept popping back into my head; a string of words that felt so apt to my experience over the previous year: Don’t Look Back.
A few months later, we went through the album release cycle and did some shows. Looking ahead to the future, I decided I wanted to try my hand at a tour of the United Kingdom. Ian immediately offered to help book a UK tour in coordination with U.S. Highball, a pop duo based in Glasgow who are Lame-O Records label mates. Being someone who often struggles to execute things like booking a tour without support, I was happy to accept.
Things progressed really well in the following weeks. We had regular Zoom check-ins where James and Calvin from U.S. Highball, as well as Ian, would update me on what shows had been confirmed, and what else was being plotted. It was incredibly exciting and humbling to have these people advocating for me and working so hard on my behalf.
At one meeting a little closer to the tour, James and Calvin told me they had some exciting news about our Glasgow show: “Gerry Love has agreed to play the show!”
Hearing that was completely surreal. It was news that came at a time of renewed mental crisis for me (really, are you surprised?), as the notion of doing my first headlining tour in a foreign country started to weigh on my psyche. What the hell was I thinking?
I couldn’t bring myself to believe that anyone in England or Scotland would be excited that I was bringing my band over there, and even more, that they’d willingly spend their own (strange, plastic-y) money to see me perform. In the week leading up to the tour, I genuinely felt like I didn’t want to go anymore. I was debilitated with anxiety, and canceling the whole thing felt like the only logical solution.
But I’d keep coming back to Gerry agreeing to join us at the last show of the tour in Glasgow.
In my worst moments, that would give me a slight sense of peace, a hint of validation. Gerry and I weren’t friends, we had no relationship at all, and he had no obligation to open our show. He just…wanted to. (At least I wasn’t aware of any elaborate blackmail scheme that U.S. Highball or Ian had concocted to get him to agree, but I wouldn’t have put it past them.)
I felt genuinely lucky that I was going to share a bill with someone who was an actual idol of mine was hard to comprehend. (I feel cringe about using that term earnestly, but it’s true!) When Calvin from U.S. Highball sent me the flyer for the Glasgow show, it barely registered. When I announced and started promoting the show, it barely registered. And it still barely registered as I sat in Newark International Airport waiting to board a flight to London.
After the first few days of the tour, we were all in the van driving south from London to Brighton when James suggested, “You should see if Gerry wants to do ‘Don’t Look Back’ with you at the gig in Glasgow!”
We’d had the song in our set list since the album release, so it wasn’t a completely outlandish suggestion. But, my initial response was, “Absolutely not. I’m not going to do that.”
I kept catching myself thinking that Gerry would be dismissive of me; that I was somehow wasting his time, or that he had no interest in my band.
Generally, it’s always been difficult for me to ask other people for favors. I really don’t like reaching out. And I hate to network. I just don’t want to feel like I’m bothering anyone. Contextually, even just playing the show with Gerry felt like a huge stroke of luck. ‘But asking him to get on stage with us?’ I couldn’t stand the idea of doing anything that might make Gerry regret his decision to play our show. It all felt so precarious.
Then, as the long afternoon wore on, I felt myself warming up to the idea. I thought about how far I’d come (both literally and spiritually) and how the version of me who started Hurry years ago would never have believed so much of what I’d managed to accomplish.
I opened Instagram and sent a message to the Glasgow promoter, asking if they thought Gerry might be open to the idea of doing “Don’t Look Back” with us. They quickly replied that they’d float it to him. I felt a little bit of instant regret, but what was done was done.
It didn’t take long before my phone dinged: “He’s into it!”
While I was initially in complete disbelief, I managed to tell everyone in the van, but I was unable to communicate it without some kind of disclaimer.
A few days later I got an email from Gerry to go over some logistics for the performance. He was extremely kind and very matter of fact about all of it, so I did my best to fake a similar cool and collected tone in the email. We confirmed what key we’d do the song in, and Gerry even offered to get to the show early so we could sound check together.
The next week, Gerry was already in the venue with his guitar as we loaded into the Glad Cafe in Glasgow. I introduced myself and was struck by how warm, affable, and friendly he was. He treated me like an old acquaintance.
“So how do you want to run the song?” Gerry asked. “Do you want to start and I can take the second verse?”
“Gerry,” I said, “if we bring you on stage, start playing ‘Don’t Look Back,’ and then I start singing it, people might riot. You have to take the first verse.”
He laughed and agreed.
Before we started the sound check, I snuck up to James with my phone to ask if he’d film it. It was almost as if I still didn’t believe the real performance would happen, and this sound check might be my only shot. He laughed a bit, but said of course. And like a proud (but discreet) parent, he stood in the venue and captured the moment.
I called Gerry to the stage, and he took his place next to me. We kicked into the song, and the audience went crazy.
After sound check, we went for dinner in the restaurant area of the venue which had a full bar and fancy pizza situation. I invited Gerry to eat with us, which I assumed he would pass on. But, he accepted. All through the night, I kept catching myself thinking that Gerry would be dismissive of me; that I was somehow wasting his time, or that he had no interest in my band. That thinking had plagued me for most of the trip when I’d think about this show. And yet here I was, at the show, getting a chance to spend meaningful time with a musician I essentially idolized, and being treated by him as an equal. It was completely surreal, and incredibly difficult to wrap my little brain around.
That night was filled with so many magic moments. I watched Gerry’s solo performance in a trance. It was a similar feeling to seeing Santa Claus at the mall when you’re a kid. I was bewildered, mesmerized, and star struck. I felt so lucky to be there.
The show as a whole was incredible. Gerry’s set was perfect. U.S. Highball were also perfect, as they had been every night of the tour. And then it was our turn.
About halfway through our set, I made the announcement: “Our new album is called Don’t Look Back. I stole the title from a song written by Gerry Love and we’ve been playing that song quite a bit on this tour…” The crowd was already cheering before I could finish. They knew what we were up to. I called Gerry to the stage, and he took his place next to me. We kicked into the song, and the audience went crazy.
Gerry’s set that night was solo, with just him playing electric guitar and signing. The arrangements were beautiful, showcasing the tenderness of his voice and melodies. But I think for the crowd, hearing a full band tear into one of his classics was really exciting.
The first verse started, and Gerry began singing. For a while, I kind of forgot that I was in the band—I just happened to be on stage taking it all in. Then the second verse came around and Gerry looked towards me, signaling that it was my turn to take over.
As I sang the second verse of “Don’t Look Back,” I found my mind wandering away from the lyrics and the song itself, and focusing instead on the moment.
For all of the time I’ve spent writing songs, recording albums, and playing shows over the last decade—I’ve spent just as much time doubting myself, feeling like an imposter, or just wanting to give up because it felt like I had no real place in any of it. And yet there I was, standing on stage with Gerry right next to me, playing a sold out show thousands of miles from home.
In that moment, I felt something in my brain shift ever so slightly. I felt myself connected to a larger community and the vibrant humanity of music; I wasn’t caught up in whether or not I was important enough to be worthy of someone like Gerry’s attention. I felt like I was in the right place. And Gerry’s validation of my music, and in some ways what felt like my humanity, meant so much.
Since that day in Glasgow, I’ve noticed that I don’t carry as much of the negativity and doubt that I’ve been so accustomed to. Am I cured? No. Absolutely not! But I will say that I finally feel more secure in the knowledge that I have a place in music, and that my personal legacy (whatever that might turn out to be) has intersected with so many other amazing people.
I’m hoping that’s something I can hold onto, and oddly, I have Teenage Fanclub and Gerry Love to thank for that.
Matt Scottoline is a Philadelphia-based musician, songwriter and founder of the band Hurry. His songs have appeared in multiple television shows, and his latest album, Zoned Out, is out July 11 on Lame-O Records. He also enjoys gardening and photography.
Really enjoyed this piece. Great to read that Gerry was super cool, you know what they say about meeting your heroes. Also loved reading how the whole process of dealing with a heavy weight was made lighter by music.