Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Suicide. Show all posts

Monday, 18 April 2022

The 500 - #321 - Pink Moon - Nick Drake

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 



Album: # 321

Album Title: Pink Moon

Artist: Nick Drake

Genre: Folk

Recorded: Sound Techniques, London, England

Released: February, 1972

My age at release: 6

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #203 (up 118 places)

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Pink Moon

Horrifically, it was Nick Drake's mother who found his lifeless body on November 25, 1974. He had not left a suicide note. The coroner's verdict of "self-administered, acute amitriptyline poisoning" has been disputed by some, including members of Drake's family. Amitriptyline is a powerful anti-depressant Drake had been prescribed, the side effects of which are punishing.
Near his bed was an unfinished letter to his close friend, Sophia Ryde, and a copy of The Myth Of Sisyphus by French philosopher Albert Camus. The main question discussed in Camus' 1942 book: "Does the realization of the meaninglessness and absurdity of life necessarily require suicide?"

The title of this collection of essays was taken from the tale of Sisyphus. In Greek mythology, this former king was punished by the god Zeus, with the task of eternally pushing a boulder up a hill in the bowels of Hades (Hell)...only to have it roll back to the ground just as it reached the summit. Metaphorically, Sisyphus, for Camus, represents the pointless struggle we all undertake while trying to understand our purpose in, arguably, an absurd and meaningless world.
There was a time during my undergraduate years when I fancied myself a bit of a philosophy buff and even considered pursuing it as a major. Truth be told, I took a single course (The Introduction To Philosophy) in 1986. Like many twenty-something college kids I went through a somewhat insufferable phase when the idea of a philosophy degree seemed highbrow and scholarly. For me, it coincided with a decision to grow a goatee. I briefly considered wearing a sport coat with leather elbow patches. I guess I was tapping into my inner-Camus, searching for some meaning while concurrently adding to the ridiculousness of my existence.
Of the many philosophical ideas we studied in that class, it was the examination of existentialism and absurdity that fascinated me most. Since that time, I have dug a little deeper into the thinking of Camus.  My interest was rekindled by the brilliantly clever animated series Rick and Morty -- a television program well summarized as "a never-ending fart joke wrapped around a nuanced look at nihilism."
Morty, from Rick and Morty, summarizes his philosophy on life
For me, curiosity about existentialism and nihilism is not a morbid preoccupation. The diversion of spotting, questioning and then ridiculing life's absurdities is gratifying. It's why I enjoy the often ludicrous comedy of Monty Python or The Kids In The Hall so much. It's also why Rick and Morty scratches an itch I have for complex, stratified, farce...and fart jokes. Yet, much like the aforementioned Sisyphus and his eternal task, I continue to seek purpose in my own existence.
Sisyphus, doomed to unsuccessfully roll a rock up a hill for eternity.
With a running time of about 28 minutes, Nick Drake's third and final record, Pink Moon, sold only 5,000 copies when released. Drake was, by the time of this recording, a recluse, living at his family home in Warwickshire, England. He had stopped touring and no longer worked with other musicians. Accompanying himself on guitar and piano, he recorded Pink Moon over two midnight sessions with only his producer, John Wood.
After his death, at 26, Drake's music found a wider audience. He has been cited as an influence by well-respected contemporary artists, including, Beck, Kate Bush, Peter Buck, Jeff Tweedy, Lucinda Williams, Paul Weller and Robert Smith, whose band, The Cure, took their name from a lyric in one of Drake's earlier songs.

"Time Has Told Me / You're a rare rare find / A troubled cure / for a troubled mind." 


The collection of songs on Pink Moon are musically and lyrically soft, sparse and simple. His voice is breathy and beautiful and the guitar tones he achieves with his complex fingerpicking style are clean and rich. Some fans see the album as his suicide note because it explores such bleak themes. However, there are also moments of  hope. The title is taken from the first full moon of April, considered an early sign of spring and rebirth. Coincidentally, this year's pink moon lit up the sky the evening I wrote this post.
A pink moon
The album’s last track, From The Morning, contains the hopeful lyric “And now we rise/And we are everywhere,” a phrase which would appear on Drake’s headstone.
Nick Drake's tombstone
I find an element of positivity from this beautiful record. It might be a Camus-esque reflex – searching for meaning behind the absurdity in this talented young man’s death. The educator in me wonders, "what could have been done to make a difference for him?" Can I learn from him and make a difference with someone else?

I will think about him when working with students who are struggling with their own torments – perhaps emotionally, academically or socially. A pink moon shines brightly, but the light comes from a distant sun. I will try to be a sun for others. For whatever the absurdities of this life may be, I know there is meaning when one is there for those in need.

Tuesday, 14 April 2020

The 500 - #435 - Nirvana - In Utero

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

Album # 435

Album Title: In Utero
Artist: Nirvana
Genre: Grunge, Alternative Rock
Recorded: February, 1993
Released: September, 1993
My age at release: 28
How familiar was I with it before this week: Fairly
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: All Apologies 
(Suggested by my friend Michelle Ryan, honourable mention to Brent Kelders who pitched some awesome "deep track" choices.)

The grunge movement of the early 90s wasn't intended to be a movement. Before 1990, the burgeoning Seattle music scene was an underground collection of bands who began fusing elements of punk rock and heavy metal into their own sound. It was a reaction to the heavily commercialized "over-the-top" glam-rock of the MTV 80s. However, these musicians did not call themselves "grunge" nor did they seek to revolutionize the sound of the day. They just wanted to make authentic music without worrying about style. If this was a restaurant, they sold the steak, not the sizzle.
Four Seattle Bands - Pearl Jam (Top Left) , Nirvana (Top Right),
 Soundgarden (Bottom Left), Alice in Chains (Bottom Right)
The so-called "grunge" sound varied from band to band. Some played fast, angry and loud -- replicating the raw energy of punk and garage rock bands of the previous two decades (Black Flag, The Misfits, The MC5 or The Stooges). Other Seattle rockers were influenced by 70s heavy metal acts (Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and UFO). They used distortion to create brooding anthems that were low and slow. Both of these styles provided a canvas for lyrics that were dark, angst-filled and deeply introspective, seeking to capture the isolation and alienation of upstate Washington's dismal climate.
By the time In Utero was released in September 1993, the Seattle scene had exploded. An art form which began with earnest intention was now a commercial juggernaut. The 1992 film Singles had thrust the movement into mainstream culture. 
Teens and twenty-somethings across the world were decked out in the same loose-fitting, androgynous, disheveled clothing that were trademarks of bands who had now become household names (Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains). However, these clothes were no longer inexpensive, thrift-store discoveries. "Granddad's old lumber jacket" was on sale at mainstream outlets and designers (including Marc Jacobs and Perry Ellis) capitalized on the trend, incorporating elements into their 1993 spring collections.
There are three Nirvana records on The 500 List, including Nevermind which cracks the top 20. In Utero appears first at #435.
Beyond the fashion, I really liked the music and, in the fall of 1993, I was excited about the release of this record. However, after my first listen, I wasn't as impressed as I'd hoped. I had the feeling that might best be captured by the well known expression "You can never go home again." It seemed as if the band was trying to recapture something that had been swept away by this commercial whirlwind.
The "lightning in a bottle" sound captured in those early days was now a "genie out of the bottle" -- and she was wearing Doc Martens' combat boots and baggy flannel from The Gap. 

Some of these thoughts were confirmed this week as I listened to The 500 Podcast episode dedicated to the In Utero record. In it, host Josh and guest, Jeff Dye. a comedian, actor and Nirvana fan, discussed the band's intention to create a more unpolished, raw and authentic record. To help capture the abrasive sound, the band hired outspoken and controversial engineer Steve Albini, who abhorred any effort to homogenize a band's sound. Nirvana also committed themselves to a rigid two-week recording session at the remote Pachyderm Studio in Cannon Falls, Minnesota. According to a Rolling Stone article at the time:
"The music was quickly recorded within that time with few studio embellishments. The song lyrics and album packaging largely incorporated medical imagery that conveyed front-man Kurt Cobain's outlook on his publicized personal life and his band's newfound fame."

Cobain had actually wanted the record to be titled, I Hate Myself And I Want To Die, which was the response he gave to anyone who asked how he was doing. The title was rejected but the words would become a terrible harbinger. 

Overwhelmed by his mental illness and heroin addiction, Cobain would take his life seven months after the record's release on April 8, 1994. The suicide note he left echoed the sentiments he'd made clear in multiple interviews. He simply could not find joy in the music he was creating or from the energy of fans he entertained. 
After his passing I, like many, revisited the Nirvana catalog.  Over time, I gained a deeper appreciation for the cathartic, almost corrosive energy of In Utero. Certainly, it is coloured by Cobain's suicide, but I also understand the record a little better now. Perhaps, I was right. "You can't go home again"...and that can be devastatingly painful.









Monday, 16 March 2020

The 500 - #441 - Suicide - Self Titled Debut

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

  • One record per week(ish) and at least two complete listens.
  • A blog post for each, highlighting the important details and, when possible, a background story that relates to the record.
  • No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation of diverse forms of music.
  • Listen to Josh and his guest on The 500 podcast to gather additional information and insights.

Album # 441

Album Title: Self-Titled Debut
Artist: Suicide
Released: December, 1977
My age at release: 12
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at All
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: Ghost Rider

The list from which The 500 Podcast and my weekly posts draw their inspiration was originally published by Rolling Stone Magazine in 2005. It was compiled in 2003 when the magazine asked a panel of artists, producers, industry executives and journalists to select their favourite albums. These were then evaluated by the Ernst & Young accounting firm which "devised a point system" to tabulate the responses. The list was revised in 2012 and this is the list to which I adhere.
However, the criteria used to determine which albums were, and were not, the "Greatest Of All Time" is not easily ascertained. Is a voter's choice based on... 
  • musicianship?
  • Billboard chart position?
  • record sales?
  • musical impact or influence?
  • personal taste?
Additionally, The 500 List is not without criticism. Edna Gunderson of USA Today described it as predictable, "weighted toward testosterone-fueled vintage rock". Additionally, Jonny Sharp, a contributor to the New Music Express described the list as, "a soulless canon-centric (list) of the same-old, tired titles," noting that "when only one album in the top ten is less than 40 years old, you need to rethink your approach."

I've done my best to avoid over-analyzing The 500 but I'll admit skimming through its titles. Perhaps it is because I am "a testosterone-fueled fan of vintage rock" who is over 40 that I am a fan of many of these records. Entry number 441, the debut album by the band Suicide, is not one of them.
To be fair, I played it five times in a variety of settings (my home stereo, on headphones & through car speakers). The opening track, Ghost Rider, which I have included on my Spotify Playlist, is the song I enjoyed the most. It draws its title from a lesser known Marvel comic book and its protagonist. 

This is the debut album by Suicide, the New York Minimalist, Electronic-Rock, Synth-Punk duo of Alan Vega and Martin Rev. Vega, a visual artist and sculptor, met Rev, an avant-garde jazz keyboardist, in the late-sixties. After witnessing the burgeoning New York punk scene, the two decided to "create art".

Rev bought a cheap, Japanese electric keyboard and ran it through a series of bass-and-treble boosting pedals to enhance its limited sound. Simultaneously, Vega would sing, speak and scream improvised lyrics over the strange, dry, electronic hum.
Vega (left) and Rev in 1988
If you've never heard this record, I encourage you to listen to a few tracks to experience this bizarre cacophony.

Unsurprisingly, the record was not well received critically and it failed to make the charts. Regardless, it served as a template for the electronic sounds that would follow and it is easy to see how it influenced bands such as Nine Inch Nails, Daft Punk, Radiohead and Devo (whom I wrote about last week). It has also be praised by music heavyweights Bruce Springsteen and U2.

Although I did not enjoy the record, I have to admit this record deserves its place on The 500. Alan Vega's passing in 2016 was recognized by countless artists who celebrate his and Martin Rev's five-record "art experiment" as groundbreaking and profoundly important.