Album of the Week - Vol.21

Queen of Denmark JOHN GRANT (2010)
Week: Wed 4th to Tue 10th August
Format: CD/iPod
Producer(s): Eric Pulido, Paul Alexander and John Grant
Track listing:
1. TC and Honeybear
2. Marz *
3. Where Dreams Go to Die *
4. Sigourney Weaver *
5. Chicken Bones
6. Silver Platter Club
7. It's Easier
8. Outer Space *
9. Jesus Hates Faggots
10. Caramel
11. Leopard & Lamb
12. Queen of Denmark *
TOTAL RUNNING TIME: 51:16

It took me a while to really warm to this album. I first sought it out after Midlake shared a post on social media about it. Midlake are one of my favourite bands, having delivered one of my favourite albums ever, The Trials of Van Occupanther in 2006. So, I was keen to see why they were celebrating the ten year anniversary of this record's release and decide to have a listen. 

I discovered that Midlake were actually the backing band for Grant during the recording of this album, which took place at their studio in Denton, Texas. The record was born out of two lengthy sessions in mid-/late 2008 and mid-2009, possibly while Midlake were recording their third album The Courage of Others. I don't know for sure.

Grant used to be the frontman for a band called The Czars, who broke up in 2004. I've not heard any of their music, and I don't know how Midlake came to cross paths with Grant, but maybe they toured or played together at some point? Anyway, the recording of this album was a very cathartic process for Grant, and Midlake's help in getting it made might have helped him on more than one level. Shortly after the album was completed, Grant checked himself into hospital after grappling with suicidal thoughts. 

Struggling with alcohol and drug abuse for many years, Grant wrestled with the self-loathing he felt growing up as the only homosexual boy in a conservative Colorado high school. His mother passed away in 1995 having not reconciled with her son's sexuality. Born in Buchanan, Michigan, his family moved to Colorado while Grant was a teenager, stupidly hoping that somehow his gay feelings would stay behind. He released his fifth album this year, titled Boy From Michigan, which also revisits these feelings of accepting his own identity as a gay man.

Grant spent years being angry at himself for being so scared of who he was, living amongst many who used religion to convince him that he was going to hell. Working through traumatic experiences from his past and his parents' disappointment in him resulted in a lot of subject matter of this album. As I've delved into it more and more since that first listen, I've come to be very fond of what he and Midlake recorded together. 

I had actually heard one of the songs before, and I'd forgotten about it totally. Album highlight Sigourney Weaver also has some of the album's best lyrics, as Grant expresses how his family's move from Michigan to Colorado affected him:

"I feel just like Winona Ryder in that movie about vampires/

And she couldn't get that accent right, neither could that other guy"

The track's production is bang-on as well. The use of the harmony guitar lines in the chorus are fabulous and the excellent kitschy keyboard parts add to that 70s prog feel that permeates the album. Interestingly, this latter instrumentation that I loved on Midlake's ...Van Occupanter is sorely missing on The Courage of Others. I think if they'd embraced those fabulous synth-y sounds for their third album it would have been, um, better. He he he...now, that's unfair. It was always going to be hard to top ...Van Occupanther, but the pastoral production makes much of the material sound like a dirge. 

But I digress! I also really like Where Dreams Go to Die, which is quite mournful in tone, but manages to sound uplifting. The song laments the end of a relationship, and even regrets that it ever started, but there's a glimmer of hope in the finality of it all. The finally resolves of the chorus are quite gentle and beautiful, with some lovely violin lines courtesy of English musician Fiona Brice. 

Other big highlights for me include Marz (which is the name of a lollie store in Grant's Michigan hometown), the self-serving resignation of It's Easier and the wonderful Outer Space, a statement of awe and the failure to describe someone that the singer has become enamoured with. The stunning title track, and the album's final song, is another excellent offering. Apparently the tune has been covered by Sinead O'Connor, but I've yet to track it down to have a listen. I love that the song's last line, and ultimately the album's last line too, is "Who knows, maybe you'll get to be the next queen of Denmark".

One of the more explicit songs that deals with Grant's attempts to accept himself, and his sexuality, is the somewhat controversially titled Jesus Hates Faggots. The second verse starts off with:

"I can't believe that I've considered taking my own life/

Cos I believed the lies about me were the truth"

The opening lines possibly inspired the bizarre album cover as well:

"I've felt uncomfortable since the day that I was born/

Since the day I glimpsed the black abyss in your eyes"

But yes, the song does use potentially offensive language in getting its point across. That being that you can use religion to hate anything and feel justified. It is deceptively jaunty in its production and feel, but there is a deep pool of resentment bubbling underneath it all. 

While some of this album isn't an easy listen, as is the case with many cathartic releases, there is a lot to enjoy. I'm not the biggest fan of Chicken Bones or the unnecessarily overlong Silver Platter Club, but they're still easy to listen to. This has been an album that I've gone back to a lot lately, mainly because I got sucked into Grant's newest release, which I'm really enjoying.

Co-produced by Grant with Midlake's bassist Paul Alexander and now lead vocalist Eric Pulido this record is a nice step from ...Van Occupanther to The Courage of Others. Midlake's lead singer (and chief songwriter) during this period, Tim Smith contributes some lovely bits of flute, particularly on the strangely haunting album opener TC and Honeybear. This is an album that keeps revealing treasures after each listen, and I'm quite grateful to own a copy. I will no doubt dig a little deeper into Grant's other releases. Maybe. He he he...

RIP Keith Flint

The world discovered that The Prodigy's Keith Flint passed away a few hours ago. He was found dead in his home at the age of 49. Media reported that his death was not suspicious. That usually means one of two things: suicide or a drug overdose. I was hoping for something else. Rhones suggested that it could have been a heart attack.

I'm not the biggest Prodigy fan in the world. I only have a couple of their songs on JJJ compilations and the Breathe CD single. I've never seen them live either. In fact, I remember walking out of the 2009 Big Day Out in Perth just as their set was kicking off. 

But when fellow band member Liam Howlett revealed in an Instagram post that Keith had indeed taken his own life, it really hit me. A huge sense of grief just welled up in me, and I'm not sure what really triggered it.

I've always found the way we react to celebrity deaths as a society very fascinating. Someone we have never met or spoken with can be so important to our lives that they leave a gap when they pass. There are those who will deride such actions, and offer a debate of whether a famous person's death deserves more attention or mourning than children dying from diseases in a third world country or victims of another shooting massacre in the USA. 

I think that one of the reasons I got so moved by Liam's words about Keith was that he was describing how he felt. Suicide leaves behind a lot an unanswered questions. The whys and hows aside, one thing that someone who has lost a loved one to suicide might ask themselves is 'what could I have done to prevent this?'.

The Prodigy recently toured Australia and New Zealand. Their last show was in Auckland on the 5th of February this year. Keith had only been home for a month or so. Being in a band myself, if I woke up to the news that one of my bandmates had taken their life, it would devastate me. In addition to sharing a stage, you spend a lot of time together. Sometimes you travel to a gig together, and there's breaks between sets. You get to know each other. You find out what's happening in each other's lives. I like to think that I am the kind of person that people can confide in. I usually don't have an issue talking about what someone is going through, and I'm happy to be the shoulder that gets cried on. It's so important to have someone you can talk to if you're experiencing depression or anxiety or both.

Having lost my own mother to suicide, I'm probably a little more sensitive and empathetic towards friends and families of those who have taken their own lives. You go through a lot of emotions. I struggled to deal with my mum's death. Well, to be honest, I didn't really try to. I was so determined not to let it affect me that it did. I became emotionally stunted. I overreacted (or under-reacted) to certain situations. Being diagnosed with autism a little over a year ago has informed me of how I handled some issues as I grew up as well. We're all just little pieces held together with sticky tape and string after all.

Bottom line, don't be afraid to seek help. It's one of the most important things you could ever do to move forward out of the hole of depression and anxiety.

Anxiety

Around September last year I slipped into a black hole of anxiety. It was pretty crippling because it felt like everything took a massive effort to get through. As a result, I avoided simple tasks like checking my email. Sometimes just putting a meal together caused me a lot of stress.

The worst thing was the morning. It was so hard to get out of bed. On odd occasions where I could have a sleep-in, I would constantly battle with myself on when I should get up. I'd feel guilty if I was still in bed, or I would just feel horrible and anxious once I got up. I would experience that awful racing heart that seemed to make my chest thud so hard I was surprised people couldn't see it pulsing. 

If my mobile phone went off, either an SMS or a phone call, I freaked out. Sometimes it would just be a vapid notice from our phone carrier or a random message from a friend. The relief that it was no big deal would be pretty great, but then the anxiety would just begin growing again. I had to build myself just to check my email. And I would only do it once a day. I would congratulate myself each time I did it too. It felt like such an achievement.

The most frustrating part for me was not feeling like myself. I've usually got a few things going at once, and I'm fairly enthused to start the day. Struggling just to get out of bed was horrible. I'm a pretty happy guy most of the time, so to feel so blue was just soul crushing. And to not really know why. Part of me thought I could just snap myself out of it if I fixed the root cause. I did learn not to get so hung up on that as time went on.

This was not my first wrestling match with the black dog. Although, it was more anxiety than depression. I've had down patches ever since I was a teenager. They used to be triggered by falling behind in my homework at high school and/or insomnia. If I had a night without sleep, I knew I had about a week of cloud to fight through. There was a period of time before my mother took her life that I felt like I understood a little of what she went through. 

She spent her last few years battling severe depression. Before I was born she'd had a bout so severe that she attempted suicide by jumping off a building. Thankfully she was unsuccessful, or else I wouldn't be here. It seemed that my birth played a big part in her coming out of her depressive state. She managed to keep the black dog away until I was a teenager. 

So, I've had my moments with depression and anxiety over the years. I've never had suicidal thoughts, which I'm very grateful for. I'm very lucky to have had Rhona to help me through. I know there are people out there with mental health issues who have partners that don't understand or empathise. As Rhona has her own stress and anxiety problems, she knows exactly what I go through. We're a good team. Usually, when one of us is low, the other is high enough to help prop them up. Even when we're both a little low, we're good at leaning on each other.

I'm very lucky that during my latest period of anxiety, I still enjoyed gigging. If my work had become stressful, that would have been really hard to push through. As it was, just emailing and talking on the phone was a challenge. Socialising with band mates or punters in my breaks was a little touch and go. I did let a few close friends know what I was going through, and their support was wonderful.

Without wanting to jinx myself, I think I'm pretty much through to the other side now. I've been feeling good, and full of a little more get-up-and-go. Particularly in the mornings. Just a little more motivated to get things done.

Rhona encouraged me to visit the psychologist she'd been seeing, and come up with some strategies to help manage my anxiety. One big thing I took away from those sessions was making little 1% changes in life. Just to look at particular aspects of life and seeing if we could make a small change for the better. So I stopped putting as much emphasis on some household chores or errands to be done immediately. I was giving myself permission to leave things until tomorrow or another day. I began to make time to do things that I enjoyed, those activities gave me a little reprieve from the day-to-day stuff. They became very important in helping me move forward.

One analogy Rhona and the psychologist liked to use was that of a jellybean jar. Each interaction, task or moment of the day requires a certain amount of jellybeans depending on how stressful or manageable they are. It's important to remember to fill the jar back up. So, activities you enjoy, or time taken just for you, is crucial in filling up the jellybean jar. Rhona was very conscious that I needed to have filled up my jar before going to out to play a gig or the shops or other social interactions. 

January is usually a bad month for me and Rhona, as we don't have a routine to stick to. School's out, and the structure of the usual week is gone. Rhona spent most of last year on long service leave and was experiencing high levels of anxiety due to not having a set routine. To add insult to injury, she was putting pressure on herself to enjoy the leave, which is something she'd been working towards for ten years. Sometimes getting what you want can have its drawbacks. 

As the year progressed, Rhona got emotionally stronger and was managing her anxiety attacks quite well. Just in time for me to fall down the hole. I was constantly waking up with a racing heart. Some mornings I seemed to be in a waking loop where I was reliving a situation that was making me anxious over and over again. I would awake slightly panicked and not really be sure what I had dreamt or what was causing the feeling. 

Thankfully I never dreaded going to sleep or getting into bed at night. I was usually up late enough to be tired, and I would want to go to sleep. Our bed is super comfy too. Night time was usually when I felt best, mentally speaking. I guess, it was the end of the day, there was little I could do other than enjoy the night and wind down. I think I possibly kept clinging to the idea that I feel better in the morning. 

I remained very grateful for Rhona. She would constantly ask how I was feeling and check if I needed to talk anything through. If I had an upcoming gig that was causing me a little stress, she was a wonderful sounding board. 

Things progressed slowly, but over time, the cloud started to lift. Constant support from my family and friends was the greatest factor alleviating my stress. The sessions with the psychologist helped me put a few things in perspective as well. Nothing like the reduced rationality when you're in the throes of depression and anxiety!

As I write this blog, I'm feeling a lot better. I'm pretty much back to my old self again, but I'm riding a different wave. It's my manic wave. Everything is awesome, and nothing is happening fast enough for me. Driving seems to be in slow motion as well. I can't get to where I'm going fast enough!

I tend to get a little self-centred too. Or rather, a bit blinkered in what I'm doing or trying to get done. My mind map gets very rigid and some things that come up to challenge this either get ignored or not taken seriously. I can almost feel myself doing it, but I don't fully realise it until after the fact.

I'm happy to be feeling happier. The family has had a couple of challenges to start the year off with, but there's been a fair few wins as well. Hoping that will be a trend that continues to, um, continue. 

15.1.15

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death. This is something I've been meaning to blog about for a while now. Although I don't think I'm ready to delve into the deepest depths of my being, I would like to share a few things with anybody who cares to read this.

My mother committed suicide when I was 15, just a couple of weeks away from my 16th birthday. She had been battling severe depression for about three years. A year before her death, my sister and I were brought up to speed with the extent of mum's history of depression.

We had known what she had been dealing with, but we didn't know that she had tried to kill herself before we were even born. Old injuries that she had previously blamed on sport were actually caused by this suicide attempt. I don't know the full story of this time, but I was lead to believe that falling pregnant with me helped her recover. Mum was advised by medical professionals that she wasn't in the right state of mind to have a child at that time. 

Again, I wasn't there, so I don't know what actually transpired, but I've been told that mum decided that she was going to have me, and that was that. She found an inner strength and determination to push through her mental health issues by becoming my mother. Whether or not it's true, I like to think that it is. It's a nice thought. Imagine helping someone out of depression before you were even born. I hope I was a good baby.

Anyway, my sister came along a couple of years after that and our little family enjoyed a wonderful life until I was almost a teenager; the year I turned 13 and started high school. We were living in Albany and had just moved from our GEHA home to a house my mum and dad had bought. To do so they had to sell our place in Morley, which is where I started my life's journey. For one reason or another, this is one of the factors that sent mum back into depression. She rang my grandparents in Perth (my dad's parents) and said she was unable to look after my sister and I, and they lived with us for most of that year.

From that point until the day she took her life, mum had quite a few ups and downs. At her lowest, she would attempt suicide and struggle to find a sense of self-worth. At her best, she was able to enjoy the love and affection we gave her and was even able to have fun on some occasions. 

When she died, I was hit with an amazing cocktail of emotions. Relief, in that she was not in pain anymore. Guilt, because I thought I could have done more to save her. Anger; why did she leave us all behind? Sorrow swam in and out of it all too. Being a teenager, I struggled to deal with her death. In my determination to not let her death affect me, I stunted my own emotional growth.

I didn't want to be the kind of person that blamed their circumstances on the death of a parent. I didn't want it to be an excuse for not achieving something or behaving a certain way. For want of a better word, I just wanted to be a "normal" teenager. My dad offered to get me some counselling, but I stubbornly refused. I won't go into the bumpy road I went through, and how my actions affected those closest to me. Let's just say that I'm much better now, on a emotional level. I got an extraordinary amount of support from my wife Rhona, who steered me through many a teary night.

Throughout the grieving process there were many lines of wisdom and advice given to my dad, my sister and I. One thing that I held on to was mum's suicide was an act of love, in that she probably thought we would be better off without her. Such a sad notion, but knowing how low she had felt at times, I could certainly believe it. The biggest one, of course, was that time would heal us. We would never really get over mum's death, but we would get better at dealing with it over time. Bizarrely enough, there is some truth in that. There are times when I find myself wishing she was still with us, particularly those big family moments like birthdays and weddings and what-have-you. Other times, I think that while she's gone, she's happy and she just might be watching over me, maybe. I'm not a religious person, but I like the idea of her spirit being around me and my family. Although she never got the chance to meet her grandchildren, the fact that she can be around them in some way is a comfort. 

My mother's death was life-changing in a lot of ways. If I pull on that thread, I can see all the choices that have been made since and how they've resulted in where I am now. I'm happy with where I am now. I love living in Perth with my wonderful wife and our gorgeous children. But I still find myself wishing she was here. Twenty three years later, the wounds are still there, but they seem a little easier to carry.

In a freakish coincidence, my daughter found this photo of me and my family yesterday. We were looking through the board games in her bedroom and it just flew out at her. I can't remember how it even got there. I think I am probably about four or five, which would make my sister two or three. We could even be younger. This was taken in the lounge room of my Nanna and Grandpa's house in Como, which is now covered in new townhouses. At my feet is Fred Bear (imaginative name, I know) who I still have. He was given to me when I was born. I forget what my sister's bear was called now. I like looking at mum in this photo. She looks happy.

I think my dad would be around the age I am now, possibly a little younger. I have my own little family now. There may even be a photo like this of the four of us in either my parents' or Rhona's parents' house. The cycle repeats itself, and somehow, mum lives on in us.