March 30 - With A Little Help From My Friends

First of all, I want to thank everybody who read the piece from yesterday. It was a difficult decision to publish it - but I really felt like it was the right thing to do. I was very happy to see that it wasn't read as a sympathy piece, because it wasn't meant that way. But the one part that was left out yesterday was the one that explained even more how I have been able to fight depression for as long as I have. Yes, I have had great therapists along the way (and shitty ones, as I alluded to yesterday), but what I have had that has been even better is friends and family. I had friends who didn't run away when I told them about my struggles back in '94, and I have been blessed with a fantastic family who all have been very supportive throughout.

I am not going to pretend that we don't know where I would have been today if it hadn't been for family and friends - so I just want to make sure I take the time to thank you. I am not going to make the award-speech mistake of naming people, because I would without a doubt leave someone out, and that sin of omission is one I don't want to commit at this point. But the one thing I do want to say is that there are a good number of you who might not realize how important you have been in keeping me going. You would be the ones who didn't know, but who spent time with me, be it in shorter or longer increments.

And those of you who knew and stood by me: Thank you. I am certain I at times sounded self-indulgent, and I am certain some of you would have wanted nothing more than for me to shut up already. But I still feel the love from those moments. The care. The unconditionality of your love and friendships. If I didn't seem grateful, I am sorry, because I truly was - and I still am.

Hillary Clinton is often credited with the phrase "It takes a village" - but in looking it up, it appears to be from a proverb from the Igbo and Yoruba peoples: "It takes a whole village to raise a child." While I wasn't a child when most of my struggles occurred, I am very happy that I have been blessed with the kind of village I have had. So I thank you all with the song of the day. This is one of those very rare occasion where I actually like a cover version of a Beatles song better than the original. In 1969, at Woodstock, unsuspecting Americans were exposed to the spastic talents of Joe Cocker, and this clip from the movie showcases the powerhouse he was on Ringo Starr's showcase With A Little Help From My Friends.

March 29 - Alive

So I apparently reached 44. I wasn't always certain that I would, so the song of the day is very appropriate - even though the lyrics don't describe my life, they do describe how I feel, especially the chorus.

I have a choice on how open and honest I should be in this post, and I think I am landing on very. The truth is that there have been several stopping off places in my life where I thought it was time to exit it all. So, with that, let me take you back in time.

I don’t really remember the first time. It is coming to me in bits and pieces. I was 10, maybe 11. I only know this, because I remember what friend I talked to about it. He was a great guy – probably still is, but I haven’t seen him in 25 years or so. Back then, my bed was wooden, dark brown, and decorated with home-made Kiss stickers. Trading cards and double-sided tape. Kiss was all I was listening to. I had a red and black plaid wool scarf, and above my bed I had a reading light that was drilled securely into the wall. It was a darker orange lamp, almost red. I would practice tying the scarf to the lamp and tightening it around my neck. Not enough to leave any marks or passing out – but I was practicing. I didn’t think that I should be around anymore. But... It passed.

The second time was different. I remember the moment with vivid clarity. I was driving home after spending the evening with my girlfriend, the relationship was going well, the night was clear, and the moon bathed the snow covered landscape with the electric blue light only crisp winter nights can have. The music on my stereo was upbeat, and my life seemed better than ever. It was at that exact moment I realized that I wanted to die. I was 21, almost 22 then. It's been half a lifetime.

This time the feeling had a name: Depression. My depression snuck in with gentle reminders that I wasn’t as good as I should be. Actually, the word ‘should’ was the core element of my whole experience with depression. I find it interesting how one word like that can take over and control your whole life. For me, the word ‘should’ stole ten years of my life. Ten years where all my energy gradually was poured into hating myself for not living up to my own standards – I wasn’t who I ‘should’ be. 

The thing about depression is that it turns into one of those acquaintances who see you as a really close friend. The kind that knows you better than you want it to. The kind that doesn't really knock on the door but just comes in and starts making itself at home. The kind that always overstays its welcome. And the kind that insists on coming back even after you kick it out.

So it's been half a lifetime since I discovered depression and was able to put a name to it. But I really met depression way before then. I could trace that episode back to my junior year in high school - but I think I really met depression even younger than that. Like around 10 or 11. Maybe I knew this without realizing it when I in middle school decided I wanted to study psychology.

But I was 22 when I first tried to kick it out. It took all I had to tell my parents and a few select friends. My earlier mentioned relationship had ended, and I am positive some thought I was just heartbroken. However, I was convinced by my parents that I needed to see someone, so I went to a psychiatric nurse, who must have had some diploma mill degree, because all he said after I logically and analytically had explained what was going on was that I was resourceful enough to figure it out. I eventually found another therapist, one that worked - and then I had to find yet another one, and by the time I reached 27, almost a decade after what I could trace as a starting point to this episode, I did kick depression out.

So where am I today? Well... It still visits. It comes sitting at my bed from time to time. I am usually good at getting rid of it, but sometimes it takes a long time. A very long time. I think knowing it makes me a better counselor. Empathy comes easy for me - and it is very genuine. I work really hard to be less of who I 'should' be and more of who I genuinely am. I also pour some energy into working for suicide prevention. But most of all I try not to get too friendly with it when it visits. I have lived half my life knowing it - and I am not quite done yet. So for that reason alone, Pearl Jam's Alive is a triumphant shout out today, as I celebrate yet another year.

March 28 - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

I don't know when it happened, but at one point I realized that there was so much more to Elton John than Candle In The Wind, which is a great but overplayed song, and that incredibly horrible drivel called Nikita (if I hadn't discovered his 70s output, I would never have forgiven him for that). I know my parents had Blue Moves on vinyl, but that's not his finest 70s work. Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word is a great song, but that's about it.

But at one point I discovered what I consider his masterpiece: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. I still love that album - and today I will be playing the fantastic title track!

March 27 - Batman

As I write this, I am sitting in the movie theater waiting for the lights to dim and Batman vs. Superman to start. On my way in, I realized that I have the perfect song to show my allegiance to Batman - and I am actually excited about Ben Affleck taking on the role.

The version I have of Batman is by avant garde saxophonist, composer and bandleader John Zorn from his Naked City project - a great project in its own right. I will get back with John Zorn later as well - and I might update this after the movie... But for now, here is Batman

March 26 - Mountain

Like I said yesterday, Easter in Norway means you go to a cabin in the mountains. I know that's not what Motorpsycho's song is about, but I can't resist... "Someone turn the wheel before I drown..."

March 25 - Watching, Waiting

Easter is once again upon us, and while I am not a Christian, I have been a part of a more cultural tradition to celebrate Easter every year. I know that may seem strange - and to some even insensitive, but the fact remains that I grew up in a country that shuts down from Maundy Thursday through The Monday after Easter (with the exception of a few hours on Saturday, which is called Easter Eve - Monday after Easter is known as the second day of Easter). On these five days, it appears to be mandated that Norwegians pack their skiing gear, chocolate, and mystery novels and have their annual pilgrimage to the mountains, preferably a cabin about 10 miles (16 kilometers) from the nearest place to park. And yes, we get our Easter eggs, which are the size of ostrich eggs and filled to the brim with all sorts of good candy. Then I moved to the US, where the Easter egg hunt is a necessity. Still far more cultural than religious in nature - but here there is more focus on the message of Easter than back in Norway.

And all of that brings us to today, which is Good Friday - a Friday that really is anything but good. Just think about it: Crucifixion was a torturous way of killing the most heinous and vile offenders - and to dissuade rebellion, which is why 6,000 followers of Spartacus' rebellion were crucified on the road between Rome and Capua. In Norway, we refer to it as Long Friday, which is a lot more appropriate, in my humble opinion (I am trying to avoid too many acronyms here - writing in long hand is still my style). I can see that the message about resurrection is good, but I cannot in good conscience call the long, slow, torturous execution good. Of course, I could start going on a rant here (as if I haven't started) about using an instrument of torture and execution as the symbol of a religion, but others have done that before me - and probably better than I'd ever do it as well - so I will let it be.

Now, before you stop reading completely (yeah, I know, it might be too late for that), I will say that I actually respect Easter - and I respect religion and religious people. I didn't always use to - I remember pulling out Christian records from a collection of a friend at a party and laughing at the titles when I was a teenager. That's over and done with now. I cannot go back and change that - and to be honest, while I wish I hadn't done it, knowing that I did and realizing what impact that might have had on others, has made me a better person now - at least I think it has.

So, in picking a song for today, I thought about Long Friday, and I started wondering if I have any music that matches it. Then I remembered that I just had realized that a song that has more the feel of a romantic power ballad actually is about Long Friday. The band Extreme is most known for More Than Words from their second album, Pornografitti, but working at the rock show at Radio Ung in the late 80s, I remember picking up their debut album from Rockin' (Trondheim's best rock and metal record store which let us borrow one new record a week to play). While my favorite song was Mutha (Don't Wanna Go To School Today), a fun romp about wanting to have fun rather than learning, another song that really stuck with me was today's song of the day: Watching, Waiting.

March 24 - Karen Revisited

My first meeting with Sonic Youth was the Murray Street album, which was released in 2002. While some hailed it as a return to form, others thought it was too boring. For me, it was a realization of the main contrast I seek in music: dissonance and harmony.

I remember being asked by friends if I had listened to Sonic Youth around the time Motorpsycho was experimenting heavily with noise, as Sonic Youth was one of their early influences, but I hadn't really listened to them. I remember Vegard having the collection Screaming Fields of Sonic Love, but I never got it. But then, thanks to online sources, I listened to Murray Street. And from there I found Daydream Nation and Dirty, and all of a sudden I was a convert.

Now, being a convert did not mean an indiscriminate acceptance of everything they have done. I am still having a hard time listening to the releases prior to Evol and Sister, which is when they really found their form. However, I still seek out some earlier tracks from time to time - maybe none as much as Death Valley '69 from Bad Moon Rising.

Karen entered Lee Ranaldo's songs with Karen Koltrane from A Thousand Leaves (1998), and on Murray Street she is back on Karen Revisited. I really like Ranaldo's approach to songwriting - and he is the one Sonic Youth member that I really am enjoying in his post-SY work. Here is Karen Revisited with the perfect tension between dissonance and harmony.

March 23 - Suds & Soda

There are some connections you really don't want to make. For instance, hearing about a terrorist attack in Europe is bad enough to begin with, but when you start narrowing it down further to a small country like Belgium, then the Brussels area, until you finally hear that Zaventem airport was one of the targets and you realize that this is exactly the place where someone who is so good a friend that you count him as family lives, and you start getting really worried, especially with a rising death toll.

This is also where the power of Facebook really shows. Arve and Kateleijn and all three boys were checked in as safe and I could breathe easier. I tend to be pretty reserved when it comes to terrorist attacks, but this one hit me pretty close to the heart. I just want to say for the record that I am glad you all are safe - and let me add that although this attack was made by Muslim extremists (ISIS has at least claimed responsibility for it), this is no time to panic and blame all Muslims or immigrants for this deed. Of course, this is easy for me to say from where I am sitting - but with Donald Trump making this one of the cornerstones of his presidential campaign, it applies here as well.

Now I am not one to post pictures with the Belgian colors or proudly proclaim that we are all Belgians today. However, I think it is important to recognize Belgium, and what better way than to dig out one of my favorite alternative bands of the 90s, dEUS, who just so happen to come from Belgium. I first heard of them in Studentradioen, and then a few years later, Arve bought The Ideal Crash for me for my birthday. Today's song is a great example of how I like songs with dissonance and resolution. The violin that keeps playing the same thing over and over again creates tension and dissonance that gets released in the chorus, elevating this song way higher than it would be with just the basic melody. R.E.M. Would later use a very similar trick in the song Leave, but today's song is the opening song of dEUS' Worst Case Scenario album from 1994, Suds and Soda.

Match 22 - John Coltrane Stereo Blues

It's hard to decide on a song for today. After yesterday's roller coaster with surgery and hospitals and doctors' visits, I don't quite know what to play. Or what I want to hear. Yesterday's song was more appropriate than I wanted to be given the days' chaotic nature, so today I need something equally appropriate - but I am stuck.

Or rather I was stuck. Once again, a song starter materializing. Mirroring the monotony of a hospital with its single chord as well as the chaos going on in a day with appointments and surgeries, The Dream Syndicate's John Coltrane Stereo Blues is the perfect companion to a night at the hospital. This song is from the fantastic The Medicine Show from 1984, and it's a song that bandleader and songwriter Steve Wynn keeps taking out on long and meandering excursions when he plays it live. To me it's a masterpiece - but to others it's an acquired taste...

March 21 - Fugazi

It's Monday again, and the wold isn't looking any better than it did last week. Trump is gathering his red caps, taking his flirt with fascism closer and closer to the 1930s Germany every day (not that anyone who supports him will agree with me there, but that's what I get for living in a country that looks down on education). Over and over again I hear the phrase "the world is totally Fugazi" in my mind, and I realize it is the song that is bursting out, trying to break free, so I will set it free. The word Fugazi is reportedly an acronym - but I'll let you look it up. Suffice it to say that it really means that things are going to hell in a handbasket (apparently they don't have metal detectors at the entrance to hell).

This song is from the 80s, from the first Marillion - although there isn't really a first and a second Marillion officially - but the line was drawn when extremely tall and larger than life Scottish singer Fish (Derek Dick - I think I'd choose Fish as a name as well) was ousted and replaced with far more mild mannered h. (Steve Hogarth). There are four studio albums in the canon of the first Marillion, and the title track from the second album is as appropriate today as it was in Reagan and Thatcher's world of 1984. Do you realize the world is totally Fugazi?