Happy Monday! Well, at least as happy as Monday’s can be these days. Never anyone’s favorite day before, they somehow found a way to be even shittier. So, I guess I take that back and will just say “Fucking Mondays...” But, here is a new post about the song “we are not alone” from my recently released 4 song EP entitled “music for depressed alcoholic autistic people.” If you’re new to the blog, I've been writing about each song off the new record (I also wrote about the record as a whole and why I made it, which you can READ HERE. Spoiler: it’s because I’m a depressed, sometimes alcoholic person who has Asperger’s… But, there is so much more to it, so read it. Also, I’m still not sure why it felt better to write it all lowercase but it did. I have talked to a couple other Asperger’s people and they also have an affinity for lowercase typing, while subsequently hand writing in all uppercase letters like an engineer. I don’t get it either but that’s the way it goes…) . This record has been the most rewarding, challenging, fun yet hardest to listen to project I’ve ever worked on. As I mentioned in the aforementioned blog about the entire record, it’s the only project I’ve made that I still listen to. Again, it’s only been finished for about three weeks, so we’ll see if that development continues, but usually I make it about a week. It’s also the only thing that I’ve done completely by myself, so it literally sounds (almost) exactly how I want it to. Normally, I like to do as little as possible with my records once they’ve been recorded. I’m super hands on when creating, arranging, etc. but once it’s on tape (literally on tape with “In My Youth, I’m Getting Old…”) I try to be as hands off as possible. I never wanted to make myself crazy obsessing over the smallest details until I break my hand punching a wall Tom Petty-style (true story, look it up). I try and let the people I’m paying do their thing and usually only offer one piece of advice, often to my dismay as my singing abilities are limited, especially when recording live takes, which is “turn the vocal up a bit.” Probably should have avoided that on the last album, but when final mix approval comes down to the singer, that’s what you’re gonna get…
Also, if you haven’t checked out one of the Facebook live shows (every Thursday at 8pm EST at: https://www.facebook.com/BradleyWikMusic/), you should. This week’s topic (all shows feature live performances plus a deep dive into a topic related to my music) is: how Asperger’s affects my songwriting and storytelling. Also, to do even more online shows, I have signed up for Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/bradleywikmusic/ or search @bradleywikmusic or however the fuck that works) as some venues are hosting online shows via Instagram live. I know, it’s fucking weird to see ol’ Bradley on the social medias but these are fucking weird times we live in and I hate not performing. So, even if it’s to my limited online audience, as the Facebook and Instagram are still new to me, I’d rather be on there playing than not. I’ll probably also be popping on to make some (not) funny jokes, some (actually good) music recommendations, amongst other things.
But, enough of that shit, let’s listen to and talk about some depressing ass music!
“we are not alone”
“wait” was the last word i heard you say
before i locked the door and walked away
i drank til i was numb
that’s when i felt the blood
“love” is just a broken word for both of us
and “hope” was just never quite enough
i drank til i was numb
that’s when i felt the blood
i can’t tell if i am real
this is the only thing i can feel
but i am not alone
you are not alone
we are not alone
we are not alone…
Music Notes:
This song, to me, always sounded like a depressed people’s anthem so I wanted the production to follow that line of thinking. I just loved the idea of a crowd full of people screaming “we are not alone” at full throat. Although, that line does always make me think of the movie “Airheads” with Adam Sandler, Steve Buscemi and Brendan Fraser. In the movie, their band name is “the Lone Rangers.” After they break into a radio station demanding they get some airplay, the DJ makes fun of them for pluralizing “the Lone Ranger.” They can’t be “lone” if there’s more than one. Maybe “we” can’t technically be alone but I know there are people out there who feel alone and don’t know that there are so many other people feeling the exact same things they are. We are together in our alone-ness, and even more so these days. I wanted this song to be one that people would play for and with each other, so I wanted to make this one a little more “fun” to listen to. Or, at least more “fun” than your typical song about depersonalization. I wanted it to have a sort of groove, which is why it has a very steady bass line and the “snare” on the 2’s and 4’s the entire song. When I play it live, I usually play it quicker and a little more manic, with the tempo and volume shifting as I feel that night. But here, it felt better to be a little more steady and something you could nod your head to. Or dance to, if you’re a little masochistic, like me.
Story Notes:
So, here’s the-grocery-store-was-closed-so-I-had-to-stab-my-arms-to-know-that-I-was-real-song. What? I know… Here’s a little more context.
I’ve read a few articles recently which finally connected some dots for me. Medication has always been a strange thing for me. It never seems to do the thing it’s supposed to do. Now, I know that is likely caused by my Asperger’s, which makes sense. My brain is not wired the same as most people’s, so it makes sense that chemicals would also affect me in different ways as well. When my Meniere’s Disease (an inner-ear disorder affecting hearing, balance, vision, etc.) was first starting to get bad, I was traveling and at a hotel about four hours from home. After a sleepless night, I finally made my way to an urgent care. They looked at me for about three minutes and determined (guessed, don’t even get me started on how much doctors have fucked me up over the years… Thank you for not getting me started…) it was bad congestion, possible ear infection. They prescribed Robitussin for the congestion and seasick patches to help with the dizziness and nausea. I put one of the patches on and within about twenty minutes the vertigo was beginning to subside. Not completely, but to the point where I could actually suck down some Gatorade and eat a few pieces of peanut butter bread. About an hour later I was starting to fall asleep. Awesome, I hadn’t slept for about 40 hours so this was good. I took out my contacts, laid down and grabbed my phone. BUT, I soon realized I had lost my near-sightedness. When my phone was within six inches of my face, I couldn’t read a thing; which was terrifying. You see, I’m near-sighted. I wear contacts because I usually can’t read anything that’s six inches or more from my face. I put my glasses on, no change. I ripped the patch off and about three or four hours later my vision returned. I checked the box, no mention of loss of vision as a side effect. They also stuck me on blood pressure pills to lower the blood flow to the ear so it wouldn’t trap fluid so the congestion could dissipate. These pills also caused some very strange side effects not listed on the packaging so I stopped taking all the medication. The problem turned out to be nerve related and some chiropractic work has mostly gotten rid of the issue. Since I have Asperger’s, I’ve learned I should take the doctor’s advice and then do the opposite. That usually works best. I wish that was a joke, but it’s not. I literally do the opposite of whatever they say and that is always what provides me the best relief. Fucking Asperger’s…
So, why am I telling you all this? What the hell does Meniere’s medication have to do with “we are not alone?”
Well, be patient, young padawan, and I’ll tell you. Early in my life, around age 14, I found out that pain medication didn’t affect me in the right way. I didn’t know why yet, but I was well aware it wasn’t quite right. When I went to get my wisdom teeth removed, it took a small horse’s amount of gas to knock me out (I kept rambling about baseball, they tell me). Afterwards, they gave me some vicodin or something similar for the pain. I’d wake up in pain, take a couple pills, then feel sick to my stomach, and still be in the same amount of pain as before. But slowly over the next thirty minutes, I’d realize that even though I still felt the pain acutely, I didn’t care as much. It started to feel like it wasn’t my pain anymore. I didn’t like it so I stopped taking the pills.
Years later, I found out it was true that taking those vicodins (and many other prescription-grade pain pills) with alcohol increased that effect greatly. Take a couple pills with a bottle of wine, and voila, all my physical and mental pain was no longer mine. I was free, unburdened. The problem, of course, is two pills and a bottle of wine turns into two bottles of wine and four or five pills. Which turns into three and six or eight. Suddenly, not only am I not “feeling” my pain and misery, I’m not feeling anything. Some nights, I would sit alone in my apartment and try and figure out whether or not I was actually still real. This is when the depersonalization would kick in. At first, it felt as though my brain was watching my physical body on those lonely nights. My thoughts, feelings, and other cognitive skills were retreating from the physical world but I was still aware of my actual presence. As it progressed, I felt my body slowly disappear as well and suddenly I wasn’t alone in my apartment at all. I wasn’t anything. I was only my thoughts. I felt as if I could go anywhere and do anything. My thoughts alone could take me into other people’s thoughts, where they were usually saying terrible things about me. I heard people say they wish I would give up pretending I could play music, my life was a such fucking waste, that I’m a stupid piece of shit who’s ruining their lives, that I should just hurry up and die already.
Obviously, I doubt I could travel into and through people’s inner thoughts. Likely, those were just my inner voices telling me those things. But, when this would start up, I’d realize I could just go confirm my existence and then I’d start to calm down. I usually did this by going to the grocery store that was a block away from my apartment. I’d go buy a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine and some cheese (I am from Wisconsin, after all…), someone would acknowledge me at the store, ask me if I needed help (I was usually pretty fucked up at this point so I probably looked like I did, in more ways than one) and then I’d head home assured to live another day as a normal, regular old human.
But, one night, and I don’t remember why, I started my night-before-a-day-off drinking routine (which was much more involved than the normal work night routine) a little later. So, by the time I hit that point in the night, the grocery store was already closed. Panicked, I walked to the bodega down the street. Also closed. Not much is open at 2am on a Sunday night (I guess, Monday morning). I returned home, having seen no one on the street. Back at the apartment, I tried to pinch myself. You pinch yourself and you wake up, right? Well, not after wine and pain pills. I punched myself. Better, but not quite enough to jolt me out of this state. So, I resorted to stronger measures…
Someone I used to know would get tattoos to cover up the scars. Mine aren’t nearly as bad, most of the time you can’t really see them; it was just a pocket knife, after all. I actually have another one right next to them which looks similar that I got when I worked at the paint store. I was pulling out some five gallon buckets from under a shelf, didn’t realize the screw holding the shelf together was sticking out the bottom end which ripped a good one into my arm. I thought about covering them up but, most of the time, I’m glad they’re there. Sometimes, I need the reminder.
Another sidenote: I actually smashed the phone I had during this time. I didn’t do it on purpose (well, I did but not to destroy it. I was just mad about something unrelated), but I know that subconsciously I didn’t want any more reminders. Sure, there are nights I’d be interested to go back through the photos and see what life looked like back then. But, I know that would be stupid. It’s over for a reason and I’m glad it is. The memories are more than enough… These songs are more than enough…
So, if what you’ve read about above has interested you and you’d like to purchase/donate to the cause, there are a few options:
Go to https://bradleywik.bandcamp.com/. You can stream for free or purchase (hint: you can also donate a little extra past the $4, if you like)
As I know these are trying times and people could use some entertainment, you can also download the record for FREE (CLICK HERE to access the google drive link with mp3’s of the record) with optional donation to: https://www.paypal.me/bradleywik
Thanks for reading and listening. I’ll be back soon with more info on track #4 - “what are we supposed to do now that we’ve wasted our youth?”
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