I have recently finished reading, and thoroughly enjoying, “Pop Life, The Story of a Minor Musical Expedition” by Tom Kirkham and reviewed the book for Louder Than War. Fortunately, I also had the opportunity to ask Tom a few questions. I could see a lot of parallels between him and I, so that was where I started.
TGQ: We sound quite similar in many ways. We are music fans with eclectic taste (although I can’t stand Oasis). We’ve been impacted by periods of poor mental health and we use writing as a way of dealing with and overcoming mental health issues. I laughed a few times as I saw myself in you. I’ve written a blog about gig etiquette and when I was younger had a “homing instinct” when I was out drinking where I’d disappear early without telling anyone I was leaving.
You took up the challenge of going to a gig a week for a year and writing about your experiences along the way for several reasons. The seeds were sown due to the deaths of musical heroes Bowie and Prince. Unfortunately a trait that continued throughout your journey with Leonard Cohen. One of the main reasons you wrote the book was as a way of dealing with your own mental health which you touch on throughout the book.
When were you first impacted by mental health issues and how did they manifest themselves?
TK: I think now might be a good time for you revisit Oasis – we need some euphoric singalongs in our lives right now, frankly.
In answer to your question, it’s hard to say when I was first impacted by mental health troubles because, like an awful lot of people, I didn’t really know that I was being impacted by anything. One day when I was ten, I turned back on my way to primary school and had to go home – the doctor said I was probably suffering from stress, so maybe that was the first point. But at that age, and indeed, going into my teens, I didn’t really have the tools to interrogate what was going on in my own head, even though in retrospect it’s pretty obvious to me what was wrong.
How did it all manifest itself? Well, I’d spend my days channelling the protagonist in The Smiths’ ‘Ask’, and the nights could go either way –I’d either be an extroverted headbanging rock god on the stage of our local working men’s club, or I’d be found quietly crying my eyes out in a cupboard at a house party.
I’d like to say that my behaviours changed as I grew into adulthood, but all I really did was internalise the above, so that crying in a cupboard became a mental exercise rather than something I’d actually inflict on a hapless party host.
TGQ: I can relate to the looking back and realising what was going on. I too used to get tearful when drinking, always apologised and putting it down to the drink. I realise now that drinking just exacerbated the way I felt and gave it an outlet.
My Smiths song of choice was How Soon is Now? “So you go and you stand on your own, and you leave on your own and you go home, and you cry, and you want to die.” I know it sounds like a cliché, but The Smiths lyrics spoke to me and seemed to be the story of my life.
Up until you wrote the book, how did you train your black dog? What were your coping mechanisms that helped?
TK: Being absolutely honest, up until the period just before Pop Life, I’d coped by sticking my head in the sand, keeping largely quiet and attempting to display stoic resilience in the face of adversity. This is a terrible strategy – I wouldn’t recommend it.
Writing Pop Life was hugely cathartic and very useful in terms of helping me interrogate my own problems, but that pales into insignificance compared to the musical expedition itself. Rediscovering my love of music exploration made the whole thing worthwhile and today my primary coping mechanism during a bad week is either to get myself to a gig or to listen to a few records I’ve never heard before. So, while suffering from mental health troubles can be extremely frustrating, it has in recent times led me to discover the works of Husker Du, Boards of Canada and Cocteau Twins.
TGQ: I couldn’t agree more. Listening to music and going to gigs is one of my releases from reality. I can lose myself in the music, even in a crowded room. In my head I am often there by myself and transported to somewhere else. And starting my blog – writing about the music I love and talking about my mental health was, and is, as you say, cathartic.
Having read the book, in many ways I saw the bands you saw as secondary to your story. It was more about the personal experience, the impact on you and those around you and the challenges you faced. You had many challenges along the way that often put your journey at risk.
How did you manage to keep going? Were there any points through the year that you thought about giving up? If so, what was it that helped you get past these thoughts and carry on?
TK: I think the specific bands are secondary, yes – it’s definitely not a collection of gig reviews or similar. But I’d argue that the ‘hero’ of the story is music itself, rather than me, the troubled protagonist. A bit like Amadeus, except I didn’t sabotage anyone’s career over the course of my expedition. I kept going with the expedition at first because it gave me structure during a time when I was struggling to clock whether it was weekday or weekend. The routine of pre-gig writing, gig attendance, post-gig write-up the following day, was incredibly helpful in giving me some consistency from one week to the next, and that meant even during mentally troubling weeks I still had the motivation to keep up appearances.
If you go back to the book, I think there’s a change in perspective that takes place – maybe around the time I saw The Japanese House, possibly before – where I start to become noticeably more engaged with the music on an emotional level, rather than just an intellectual one. And from that point onwards I start to become totally hooked on the expedition, to the extent that as the year progresses, it’s not a question of whether I’ll keep going, it’s a question of what the hell I’ll do with myself when it comes to an end. The hardest part, without a doubt, was the two or three months that followed the end of the expedition, because there was a massive void to fill.
TGQ: That is a great point to highlight, what do you do to fill your time after finishing writing a book like that and attending so many gigs…?
How are you managing your mental health now that the challenge is over, and the book is out?
TK: Well, having outlined my own challenges pretty candidly in a publicly available manuscript, it’s certainly become a lot easier to have an ongoing conversation about it, because everyone knows the truth! But clearly that’s not going to work for everyone, and ultimately, if you accept as I do that some of these problems are never going to really go away, the best thing is to keep vocalising it, keep your close friends and family in the loop, and keep on the lookout for opportunities to relieve some of those feelings. As I said, for me, it’s music discovery that offers catharsis, along with football and cricket and maniacally long walks. But everyone is different – whatever works, frankly.
TGQ: Again, I agree. I only truly felt I was, and am now, fully in control and in charge of my own mental health since I accepted me for who I am.
I have been a frustrated writer for years, finally close to finishing a book I started many years ago. My anxiety told me so many things so it has taken years to get to this point – it was rubbish, no-one would read it, it was a vanity project and what gave me the right to think I could write a book, and many more.
What advice would you give any inspiring writers, or indeed anyone who wants to achieve something, but their mental health is stopping them?
TK: That’s really sad to hear, and I very much hope you’re able to keep going, even if just in small bursts, until you get to the finish line. My advice to any aspiring writer battling with these issues is to separate out the writing of the book versus the business of the publishing it/getting people to read it. If you find a way to take pleasure in the writing itself, the writing can be a part of the solution, not the problem, but I think that requires you to disconnect yourself from all questions about who might end up reading it or what they’ll think of it.
I thoroughly enjoyed the year it took to write Pop Life because I was writing it for me, first and foremost. I then utterly hated the year that followed: first trying to get it published and second battling my demons wondering if it was really worth anyone reading.
If you can get the thing written, you can then think about someone in your life whom you might share it with for feedback. Start with a tiny inner circle who understand the battles you’re facing, and you’ll feel less exposed and less vulnerable.
TGQ: Thanks, I think you are right. If you start by writing for yourself, you are more likely to achieve. I started my blog as a purely selfish vehicle to channel energy into something other than my anxiety. It has led to so many great opportunities and hearing new music.
What are your plans for another book or challenge?
TK: I’m writing something right now. I don’t know if it’s a book yet, but it’s something. So, we’ll see where that takes me – ideally, I’d like it to be done by early 2019. For me, deadlines are not such a bad thing; without them, life can take over and provide too many distractions. In terms of challenges, the year-long musical expedition was a pretty unique and important focal point for me at that moment in my life. It just so happened that I ended up writing about it and sharing the story with others. I absolutely 100 percent do not want my writing career, such as it is, to become a gimmick. 52 art-house films in a year; 365 types of ice cream; 100 days, 100 different dentists, or similarly inane nonsense. Besides, life is enough of a challenge as it is, without making things needlessly difficult for myself!
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Thanks to Tom for taking time out to answer these questions. I highly recommend reading his book, get hold of it here: