*Borrowing from lyrics from Rubber Ring by The Smiths, and a book by Simon Goddard with the same name.
“The passing of time
And all of its sickening crimes
Is making me sad again
But don’t forget the songs
That made you cry
And the songs that saved your life
Yes, you’re older now
And you’re a clever swine
But they were the only ones who ever stood by you”
My experiences in the last few weeks have inspired me to write a (currently undetermined) series of blogs covering some of the albums that, without being too over dramatic, played a part in saving my life. That does sound a tad dramatic, but to lighten the mood slightly “in all honesty, what would life be, without a song, or a dance, what are we?”. The songs and albums on their own maybe weren’t the only thing that saved my life , but they certainly played a part.
Last weekend, as I watched The Best Bad Influence busking in the Glasgow sunshine, I felt a metaphorical weight lifting, and walking away from them I wore a huge grin on my face. Again, in my blog last week I mentioned other factors that had impacted my mood over the previous weeks. The music was the icing on the cake.
Since then, I’ve spent a week on holiday doon the watter in the Renfrewshire sunshine in Wemyss Bay (note to self – more factor 50 next time) and with the exception of a couple of occasions, I managed to switch off from work and the worries of life and enjoy chilling out, eating too much, reading and listening to some tunes.
I’m still off for another week, but realised as I neared home, I’d already switched back to my default mode. Running through lists of problems in my head, worrying about things that I may or may not have done at work, playing conversations back in my head wishing I had or hadn’t said something different and realised I had returned to clenching my jaw tightly and grinding my teeth. Before I knew it I’m back in “that” place, instead of looking forward to a second week off, I’m worrying about everything I don’t have any control over and planning all the things I can do to fill my time to try to block out my thoughts, instead of facing them and dealing with them.
However, it is only Saturday and I have plenty of time to try to turn that mindset around and continue to build on the blocks that have been laid over the last few weeks, in the knowledge that when I return to work next week, I have some counselling arranged to assist. That is the difference between now and the years my brain “won”, I now have the experience, knowledge and tools to deal with the low points. Yes, at times I need a little help, but with that and the assistance of a constantly reviewed cocktail of tablets, I’ll beat that bastard brain again. With a little help form my friends, my record collection….
I thought I’d avoid the potentially obvious choices based on where the title above came from. The Smiths were always on heavy rotation in my teens and early twenties and most definitely made a lasting impression on me. Yes, I’ve been known to use the old cliché, that I sat in my room alone and certain lyrics spoke to me…
Instead, I’ll focus on the beautiful blend of sorrow and joy in the music and songwriting of Joe McAlinden, and specifically here, around the time of the Superstar era of the Palm Tree album and the singles that preceded it.
When the first singles from Palm Tree were released I was (only just) still in a long term relationship, but I seemed determined to jeopardise this at every turn. I should have been happy, but I was constantly full of apprehension and mistrust. I doubted everything I did and lacked any self confidence whatsoever. I wouldn’t say I was an alcoholic, but I definitely used alcohol as a crutch. Having a few drinks brought me some confidence or maybe just bravado, allowing me to converse with people.
That in itself didn’t come without its problems, having the confidence to speak to people didn’t mean I’d have the right things to say, usually when I did say something, even if they didn’t think it, I would immediately regret what I said, or if not immediately regret it, reconsider a simple comment later and dwell on it for an age. I felt worthless, and as my relationship disintegrated, I knew that my erratic behaviour was contributing massively towards that, but I couldn’t change and ended up spiralling.
When I first heard Every Day I Fall Apart, it was like an awakening. It was as if Joe McAlinden was reading my mind. Mornings and late at night were always the worst times, to be honest they still are, that is when most of my negative thoughts surface, but back then I would wake up every day, realise what was going on (or if it was after a heavy night not remember much) and wish I hadn’t woken up. Mental Health issues are a very selfish thing, your brain tricks you into thinking you are the only one that feels that way and as a result you’re some sort of weirdo freak and should be ashamed.
When I listened to this song I realised that maybe others felt the same, and perhaps were going through the same motions as me (and getting the same advice) “pull your socks up to your knees, get out your bed before you seize up”, putting on that mask every morning and pretending you were OK. It became my personal anthem, and even now, this is one of my go to songs when I’m feeling low and depressed.
This was years before I had actually spoken to anyone about how I was feeling, before I knew of anxiety issues being a thing, I had always just put it down to being painfully shy. I didn’t understand why I felt so low all the time though, I should have been happy, I was in a relationship, had friends, a good job… Why did nothing make me happy?
The rest of that EP struck a chord too. Every Second Hurts and its two and a half minutes of heartbreaking beauty, it’s enigmatic lyrics allowing me to personalise and relate. Even Hum made a difference. While, as it’s title suggests, it has no lyrics, just lying in my room at night letting the melody wash over me gave me a lift as the tune rose to its crescendo.
Listening to these songs wasn’t like wallowing in self pity though, it was like they strengthened me, gave me a resolve, I could listen to these songs, shut out the rest of the world and be whatever I wanted to be.
The second of the EPs preceding the album, the self titled Superstar has one of the most heartachingly beautiful riffs I’ve ever heard in my life. A song that brought a tear to my eye, well more like a flood, when I first heard it, and to this day, I have a quiver or a damp eye when I listen to it. “Feels like I’m going insane”, yet again, an opening lyric that I could have written. Not that I’m saying I could write such affecting songs, more that I could relate completely.
If that first EP was an awakening, the third EP from the album really struck a chord with me. Breathing Space kind of summed up what I needed. Space, time to think and re-assess things, unfortunately at that time, that choice was no longer mine in several ways. I had right royally fucked things up and was no longer in a relationship.
Perhaps it was other songs on this EP that really resonated with me at the time though. Blind Spot especially – I wanted to shut out the world and avoid any contact with the human race. The series of questions Joe McAlinden asks through the song were the exact thoughts going through my head at the time – “will I phone my friends – nevermind” and all the rest. Disappointed Man was another of these songs as I also was desperately trying “to appreciate the special things in life” and failing miserably.
I’ve focussed on the lyrical connect and themes of the songs so far, but the thing about Superstar is, if another band had sung the same lyrics, they may not have had as profound an effect. Joe’s vocal intonations and the empathetic guitar playing along with the heavenly harmonies are so heartfelt, they in themselves are a thing of great beauty. If you separate the lyrics from the music, Joe and the band could have sung the phone book, the passion and fervour in the playing is such that it in itself would bring a tear to a glass eye.
And all that before the album was released. That just sealed the deal, kicking off as it does with dramatic forceful melody of Monstermind, “you wear me out” urges McAlinden over a driving melody, “around around around we go” in that incessant vicious circle of thoughts….another song that spoke to my very being. I don’t know if any of what I read into these songs at the time was where he was coming from, or I was just reading what I wanted into the songs but they had a huge impact on me.
Over and above the singles, the album has song after song of glorious song writing and playing. the understated elegance of Sparkle, sandwiched between Breathing Space and Every Day I Fall Apart, which builds majestically to its august close. Once Again brings side one to its conclusion ensuring not one note, or lyric had been wasted across nearly 25 minutes of perfection.
The delicate imagery of the albums title track opens side two complete with its bursts of optimistic energy before And When the Morning Comes brings with it a message that I still need to think about at the ripe old age of 51 – “I’ve got to believe in myself”. Two of a Kind continues in the vein of what Joe and Co excel at, fragility that builds to an ecstatic conclusion.
Nothing about a Superstar song is ever depressing or despondent, they don’t allow you to wallow in self pity, their effect is inspirational and energising. You always leave a Superstar song with a feeling that you can beat the world, no matter what it throws at you. Granted, by the time the album was released I was in a different place in my head and in my life, but I wasn’t “fixed”, and have leant on this album more often than I’d care to remember over the years.
The closing duo of songs Life is Elsewhere and the sinewy and stridently confident magnificence of The Teacher, already familiar from the Breathing Space EP, were other songs I read my own story into, all about moving on from my current situation into a new life and learning from experience.
These songs soundtracked a particularly difficult time in my life, but undoubtedly had an impact on me, a thoroughly positive one at a negative time, otherwise I wouldn’t be owriting about them now or continually re-visiting and falling in love wit( them all over again. An album of exquisitely fragile and delicate beauty but with a strength and power that helped beat my demons.
Next Up (when the time and inclination takes me): Malcolm Middleton – Into the Woods
If anyone wants to write about an album or songs that “saved your life”, feel free to drop me a line.
Joe McAlinden – Website