Bringin' on the Heartache

 

There’s a scene near the end of Wes Anderson’s 2001 movie The Royal Tenenbaums where Ben Stiller’s character, Chas Tenenbaum, emotionally breaks and says “I’ve had a rough year, dad.”  It’s almost too much for me to watch, and one of several moments during this quirky movie that never fail to get me emotional.  It has always resonated with me in a way that I haven’t fully understood.

 

This past summer, I had two medical procedures to insert five stents in around my heart to clear some blockages.  After awaking in the post op recovery room after the first procedure, my senses were flooded with a surprisingly loud presence of the Def Leppard song “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak.”  In that moment, I could not remember the band, so like the nerd I am, I began calling out to the entirety Recovery unit - anyone.  I’m certain everyone there was born long after the song’s release, so they weren’t privy to its ubiquitous radio presence during the early 80s. They may not have been old enough to be privy to the idea of radio ubiquity.  My guess is that they were playing some kind of streaming service’s “Heart” playlist algorithm – you know, for fun.

As I stirred back to consciousness from the procedure, my squirming brought a nurse over to tell me not to move my legs, because of the incision in my right inner thigh.  She tied some bedding around my leg as a reminder to keep them still.  She moved to the left bedside and introduced herself as Nicole.  I asked her again, if she knew who did the song that was playing, just as Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” came on.  There goes my “Heart” songs theory.    I guess someone in the room was feeling their 80s hair rock.  Like a drifter they were born to wear cologne.  I chuckled and Nicole asked me what was so funny.  I thought to myself, that it would be fitting that the final flashes of my life would be the music that I couldn’t stop mocking as a teenager.  I twitched my leg and Nicole asked me to relax.  Then she put my left hand into a tight clasp between both her hands.  I could barely make out her smiling eyes floating above a surgical mask. At that point, I knew I was okay and drifted back to sleep.

During my life, I have tried to not be noticed.  I think I’m pretty good at it (see Nowhere Man).  I rarely offer up participation in groups, but if I do, I often try to be first in order to lessen the pressure and be the first to be forgotten.  I try to be as small as I can be despite my size, and I always try to leave space between me and the general public.  I try to blend in as much as possible.  I used to wear concert tees all the time, which would occasionally illicit notice out in public, so I stopped that.  It not difficult to be forgettable.  I’ve always generic, because I am.  Plus history and the size of the population tells me so.  There are billions of souls with hopes, ideas, fears, problems, tastes, skills, etc. – all more profound than what I can muster.  It’s an overwhelming realization.  Who am I to believe that anything about me is worthy of notice? 

I get that I have posted these occasional poor health missives for potential public consumption over several years, which is antithetical to my stated efforts to not call attention to myself.  I do not do it for notice, or for sympathy.  I do it to sort out my own feelings.  I write these things to settle my thoughts.  The act of writing helps to calm my anxieties.  Plus, I feel safe in my little anonymous corner of the internet and the mostly abandoned realm of blogs.  If there is a public side, I’d hope to maybe illicit conversation about health experiences and health care and just life in general, and music. 

 

Because of the stents being placed near my heart, I was prescribed 36 sessions of Cardiac Rehab, which is comprised of two hour long sessions a week at a gym within a hospital that is supervised by several on staff exercise physiologists.  They keep an eye on us via heart monitors, routine blood pressure checks, and observation.  I love it.  It makes me feel like I’m taking an active role in improving my health and life, which, like the writing helps give me purpose.  I enjoy casually learning about my fellow patients and learning about their health experiences and how they wound up at Cardiac Rehab, and I enjoy the check-ins by the staff who are all very kind and motivating. 

Recently, I was scheduled for an Endoscopic Ultrasound to get a closer look via biopsy at some “concerning” cyst growth in my pancreas.  The procedure is pretty simple, and I’ve been through it before (see Here’s Where theStory Ends).  I know that VHL cysts in the pancreas are benign, but I’m okay with them looking closer to be safe.  A few days before the procedure, while at Cardiac Rehab, Hannah, the best of the exercise physiologists approached me while I was flailing around on a recumbent bike.  She was there to ask me about my daily exercise routine, to take my BP, and to answer any questions I might have.  I reported to her that I was about to go in for this minor procedure, because I had previously been informed that I should alert the staff of any new medical news.  Hannah asked me how I was doing, and how I felt about it.  I think I grumbled something about “futility” and “being tired,” and Hannah retorted with encouraging specific evidence about my progress since beginning the classes, and dammit, I broke!  An instant flood of emotions rushed up into my nose.  It was as if she pushed a button that unlocked a lot of unresolved pain.  Sure, we both knew that this procedure was not serious, but for me, it felt like a breaking point after a lifetime of a lot of pain.  Is this what it means when people say they “feel seen?”  Was this me allowing myself to be “seen,” or was I simply caught in a flash of light before scurrying into the shadows like a cockroach.   

Ever since that moment, I’ve been a ball of conflicting emotions with bouts of excited optimism mixed with total unflinching despair.  The optimism?  Maybe I’m beginning to realize that being seen is not so bad.  That’s okay to accept help, and to trust, and to admit that I’ve had a rough stretch..  The despair?  I wonder if I’ve waited too long to learn this lesson.  I feel like I’m left with no shoulder to lean into and say “I’ve had a rough year.”

Willow

 

the blue herons

“Willow”

(Shelflife)

Andy Jossi is a master at creating musical drama.  His long slow-building dreamy epics from his work with the churchhill garden put him at the forefront of “shoegaze,” and more recently, his instrumentation for the blue herons with more concise pop structures we find him still creating intense swells of sound.  His guitars jangle and chime in a similar timeless fashion as 80s Church (“Almost with You”), but no one has done the explosive swells of noise in the way that he does - at least not since the massive spectacular crescendos that Kitchens of Distinction used to employ. 

With “Wllow,” the blue herons’ latest single, we find Jossi appropriately settling into a more wistful almost melancholy sound.  Gretchen DeVault’s pleasant voice floats in atop the chiming guitars and mid-range bass with words that describe a lovely dream world of connecting with another.  That charge of new romance where that high is all that matters and the rest of the world drifts away.  It’s a place that we all wish for yet seems impossible to maintain.  Perhaps that’s why the escapist lyrics (“Nobody can find us here/ We’re beyond the outer limits / Lost in vivid dreaming / And we’re gone”) feel melancholic to me.  As if there’s a longing sadness – a yearning for these feelings while trying to navigate an especially difficult time.

Whatever the case, when DeVault sings the chorus (“When you’re touching my hand / I lose all sense of space/  I’m in another world / Lost without a trace) I’m pretty sure that she is one of the best at phrasing any set of words into a compelling vocal melody.  I was a fan of both of these artist’s work before they began working together, but I never could have imagined that this work could be this consistently excellent!  This song puts me into another world where all good things exist, and to be honest, I want to be there right now in the most intense way.  The lyrics themselves may be the best descriptive of how this song can make you feel while listening (“I float outside of time / I’m in another world”).

The anticipation of the upcoming April 3^rd release of their new album Demon Slayer is immense.  Please consider pre-ordering the album as soon as possible.  It’s going to be worth it.  This kind of artistry and quality is rare.

(https://theblueherons1.bandcamp.com/album/demon-slayer)

the blue herons "willow"

Desde Cuándo Todo

LISASINSON

Desde Cuándo Todo

(Elefant)

 

Every so often an album comes along that infuses me with a new charge of energy.  I’ll never forget the thrill I felt the first time I heard The Primitives “Crash” while in High School.  It’s been a love affair with indie pop ever since!  That vivacious burst of fresh air made me feel inspired and alive and a major reason I became a music junkie.  I’ve written before about how Swedish indie-pop band Popsicle turned my attitude from lethargic and hopeless to excited and optimistic with their stellar debut album Lacquer (see write up here).  In 2005, I recall being struck like lightning by Maxïmo Park and their frenetic jolt of an album A Certain Trigger.  Then there was that Halloween when I saw The Pipettes doo wop their way a Capella style at an in-store performance at the record store Music Millennium, which led me to buy their CD on the spot and follow them to Wonder Ballroom for their concert later that evening in 2007.  That CD did not leave my car player for months, and only left when thieves busted my car window and stole my stereo with the CD inside.  By the way Gwenno, my marriage proposal still stands.  Man, did that whoosh of music carry me on a tidal wave of good vibes!  Don’t get me wrong, every time I hear a new song that appeals to me I get a shot of adrenalin and probably all kinds of narcotic endorphins.  I guess that’s why, despite having more great music I love than I can ever re-listen to again, I still hungrily search out new music, or new to me music. 

 

Even though, I do not speak Spanish, I have found myself in love with many musical acts from Spain in recent years.  In 2016, Linda Guilala released a massive twenty song opus named Psiconáutica, which definitely set my imagination ablaze!  This was delivered via the long-time and most excellent Spanish indie label Elefant Records, whom I first learned about via Camera Obscura.  Elefant Records has introduced me to numerous pop bands since the turn of the century and is unsurprisingly now the home of the afore-mentioned Primitives.  Most recently, Elefant has introduced me to this spitfire of a foursome from Valencia: LISASINSON.

This is LISASINSON’s third album since 2020, so I am late to the game and have some catching up to do.  I was first introduced to them via their defiant sounding 2023 single “Chuchillos,” which is absolutely a stunner.  I’m not sure how I let their second LP get by me at that point.  Though that single led me to tracking down the string of incredible digital singles over the past year or so leading up to this new album: Desde Cuándo Todo.  I’ll be honest, despite growing up with German electronic music pioneers Kraftwerk as part of my young childhood soundtrack, vocals in a different language have often been a barrier for me.  However, with LISASINSON, I am finding that not knowing the language has freed me up to really let go and enjoy the music and not get so hung up on the words and their meaning.  Or, likely more accurately, I’m talking out of my ass, and their music is simply so infectious that I cannot resist it.

The album opens with the mid-tempo builder “Salgo A La Calle,” which bounces along a buoyant clean bass-line and explodes with color and intensity as the chorus hits.  Their indie pop or “punky pop” thrives in that 2-3 minute sweet spot and each song leaves me wanting to hear more. Their use of noisy guitar fuzz combined with bright simple keyboards as emphasis remind me of recent music from Australia’s rocket rules (their new collection Dearden’s Number is also highly recommended for a great musical start to 2026!), or Maxïmo Park when keyboardist Lukas Wooller was a big part of their sound, and of course there’s a massive influence of Spanish pioneers Linda Guilala (check out their 2014 song “Verano” for a head-spinning shot to the system). 

“Quiero Que Perdamos La Cabeza (Otra Vez)” comes on like a festive gang busking out the chorus at an open market, which becomes a through line for the entire two-plus minutes as it builds into a stomping banger that makes me feel like jumping around.  The exciting dance remix (also included here) is a nice bonus, as it smartly emphasizes the song’s frenetic and fun feel.

There are so many songs that are also fueled by pure adrenaline like the buzzing “Quiero Que Perdamos La Cabeza (Otra Vez)” and the truly punk drive of “Decidí Desaparecer,’ and the Heavenly-esque “No Quiero Envejecer,” and I cannot forget the power chord driven closer (before two remix tracks) “Si Todo Se Tuerce.”

 

However, I’m finding a huge draw to the more spacious and serious sounding bursts like the determined sounding “Desde Cuándo” and the brilliant “Si Me Pierdo,” whose contrasting verse and chorus brings back that good ole ‘LOUD/quiet/LOUD’ dynamic of early 90s indie-rock.  My favorite song here though is the dramatic “Me Acostumbré” and its powerful idling engine bass-line that climbs to a cymbal crashing chorus.  Much like the opening track “Salgo A La Calle,” this song builds with intensity and when that second vocal comes in late, shouting along with the original chorus vocal, it feels like a desperate heartbreaker.  Wow, what a song! And what an album!

 

Whatever the remainder of 2026 holds, I will always remember LISASINSON and how they helped pull me from an extended period of doldrums on the music front.  For that I am thankful.  If I’m not feeling a lot from music, then I’m not right.  Period.  Now, pardon me, while I go and listen to their earlier albums.  Meanwhile, I hope you are inspired to give their music a chance!

 

(https://lisasinson.bandcamp.com/album/desde-cu-ndo-todo)

 

LISASINSON  “Me Acostumbré”

 

Lullaby

My friend Jeff and I used to escape the campus of Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon by walking to the bus stop for Tri-Met line 57.  It was the final stop about 25 miles west of Portland.  We’d grab as much change as we could and try to get to Portland to visit cool record stores and such, despite the hour and a half trip each way.  If we had less time, or patience, we’d ride the 16 or so miles into Beaverton and go to Tower Records.  We needed to feel civilization.  Being on a small college campus in an isolated town that didn’t want to have anything to do with the college students back in 1989/90 was a little claustrophobic.  There was little to do, so we invented our own fun, and minor escapes.  During our treks to the bus stop near the mini mart and the Vac & Sew storefront, we generally sang exaggerated versions of songs that would pop into our heads. 

 

One of those songs was The Cure’s “Lullaby.”  It was never a huge favorite of mine from their catalogue, but our overly breathy version was, well, it was a thing.  The combination of the exaggerated gasping whispers and the attempts to stifle our laughter while performing this song for our own entertainment would lead to near hyperventilation.  If it wasn’t “Lullaby,” it might’ve been “Fire in Cairo,” or “Party of the First Part,” or “Debaser,” or “Cuts You Up,” for which I was convinced I had perfected the Peter Murphy croon, but I’m sure in reality I sounded more like a dying harbor seal barking out my misery.  Then there was the Jesus and Mary Chain’s “Sidewalking,” which included our repeating howls of “chilled to the bone” and an impossible contorted stroll that can only be described as a silly walk – Monty Python-style.  I would say, “You had to be there,” but it still likely would not have made any sense.  None of it ever made sense, but I will never forget those mini adventures and the laughs.

I woke up from a short fit of sleep recently having dreamt of spider webs.  They were everywhere.  Thick and sticky.  In my eyes and mouth.  Surrounding me enough to make me believe that a giant spider or a gang of ambitious regular sized spiders were hunting me.  I could feel the webs in my mouth and sticking to every part of my body as I tried to force my way through them.  There were layers and layers.

 

Legend has it that one of Robert Smith’s uncles would tell him nightmarish bed time stories about a spiderman that would eat sleeping children.  Was the “Spiderman” from “Lullaby” coming for me after all these years for making fun of the song? 

“On candy stripe legs the spiderman comes

Softly through the shadow of the evening sun

Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead

Looking for the victim shivering in bed

Searching out fear in the gathering gloom and

Suddenly a movement in the corner of the room

And there is nothing I can do

When I realize with fright

That the spiderman is having me for dinner tonight”

I look back at those days with bewilderment.  I was fairly healthy and one of my biggest fears at that time was sleeping through my 8:30 am classes at college.  Sure, life wasn’t always fun and games, but a lot of my needs were met, I had new friends, my small insular world was expanding, and there wasn’t a lot of outside pressure.

Generally, I’m not one to read a lot into dreams.  If I’m dreaming about looking for a bathroom then, yes, I likely need to pee in real life and should wake up.  In this case though, the imagery is not lost on me.  I’m pretty sure that those webs represent my own inhibitions and shields that I’ve continued to build and maintain throughout my life. 

I’ve always been slow to trust and very wary of trying new things, especially if there’s potential danger.  And by danger, I mean everything from falling from a tree fort, or flying off jumps on my first dirt bike, to opening myself up for emotional damage from failed relationships.  For the most part, I’ve kept to myself, which has always felt safer and frankly, comfortable.  It can get lonely sometimes, but I’m not so bad at keeping myself company most of the time.  As a kid, I never fully embraced being away from home.  Never felt comfortable sleeping over anywhere.  I preferred spending time with friends and then going home.  I’m still that way.

After years of medical issues that have caused a lot of damage, I am feeling like I’ve isolated myself into a deep, dark hole full of those sticky webs that will not allow me to escape.  It’s frustrating, because I’ve been this way for so long, that I am not sure how to remedy this self-entrapment.  The older and unhealthier I get, the more I realize that I cannot do this alone anymore.  I need help, but I don’t know specifically what help I need or how to ask.  I feel like I’ve alienated a lot of friends who have offered help, by declining, but I do not know how to relinquish control of every aspect of my being, or what to ask for, and I don’t know how accept the idea that I’m anything but a nuisance or burden, if I reach out for help.  Pride is a bitch.

 

Self-hatred would likely have happened anyway, but it took a dark turn after having a few serious abdominal surgeries before I turned 20.  I do not feel proud of my scars like well-adjusted people do for having toughed things out.  I feel mutilated like some sort of Frankenstein’s Monster.  Back then though, I suppose I had enough belief that eventually I’d pull myself free of my self-imposed shackles and not be ashamed of my physical being.  It has never happened.  Shame and embarrassment has only expanded with age and numerous hardcore medications.  Steroids, chemo drugs, immune suppressants, and numerous cholesterol and blood pressure medications have helped me morph into some kind of pale doughy crippled Sasquatch.  I feel humiliated.  Ashamed.  I could go on and on.

 

Shit.  This got dark real quick. 

What I’m trying to say is that I think this dream led me to some self-reflection and a full honest realization of how I’ve sabotaged myself over the years as part of my unfortunate lifelong unhealthy journey.  Emotionally, I do not know how to handle it anymore.  My poor social skills have caught up with me leading to isolation and difficulty navigating some of the few friendships I have remaining.  I spend so much time with medical professionals that they have essentially become my social circle, which is incredibly unhealthy.  When I move on from a physical therapist or a specialist having completed some kind of arbitrarily sanctioned insurance coverage.  I get incredibly sad, because these people are no longer part of my life.  

As I mentioned above, I seem to reject offers of help.  I do not know what to ask for, and by the time I do have a specific need, I struggle to send out a request, nor do I want to give up control and my privacy.  The nature of my health issues stems from a genetic disorder that never seems to end, as long as I keep surviving.  So, the same things that were making my life hell in 1991, are still affecting me – only it’s expanded and become more all-encompassing.  I feel embarrassed and reluctant to keep complaining to those I love about the same old shit.  Nothing has changed.  The disorder is unrelenting.  I often get “what now?” reactions when I attempt to communicate my problems to others.  How do I make it clear that I live with this stuff every day and have most of my life?  It doesn’t go away.  It is a part of who I am. 

What’s funny is that intellectually I recognize that I self-shame myself into oblivion.  I am proud of my survival on a certain level.  Not a level that’s high enough for me to prevent me from feeling like a waste and a failure.  I can recognize this kind of defeatist attitude in others when they manifest it and I can come up with compelling arguments as to why they shouldn’t punish themselves that way.  Apparently, these arguments do not apply to me.  Is it possible to turn things around?  Is it possible to undo a lifetime of mental sabotage?  Is it possible to fend off the spiderman?  Do I want to fend off the spiderman, or do I want to give up?

 

Piqued

 

Jeffrey Runnings

Piqued

(Independent Project)

Apologies in advance for this self-indulgent opening.  My introduction to Jeffrey Runnings’ music happened late in 1990 via his incredible US postpunk band For Against.  Runnings was their vocalist and bassist and their only consistent member from 1984-2009.  I had heard of For Against, but had not heard them.  I remember reading a brief write up about a 10” EP release that was hyper limited.  Everything about it intrigued me, but I kind of assumed I would never run across it due to its limited nature.  Lucky that we had Ooze Records – a small record shop just off Burnside in SW Portland.  It was an amazing store that looked like it had been a former one chair barber shop.  At that time they seemed to carry everything that I could ever be interested in.  They had that For Against In the Marshes 10” EP.  It stood out.  The cover had a green image looking up through trees.  It had a similar quiet beauty that I loved about New Order’s album art – a band I purchased originally unheard and based on record sleeve design alone, before discovering their prior incarnation as Joy Division and their even better cover designs.   In other words, the packaging evoked the same kind of artistic spirit as UK record labels such as 4AD and Factory, both of whom I essentially worshipped.  This was different though.  I was in love with the otherworldly aesthetic that these labels put into their designs, and this was on an LA based label: Independent Project Records.  That otherworldly aspect was not just the beautiful design and packaging.  The six songs on the EP were incredibly special.  Upon first listen, I felt completely transported.  There were postpunk songs like “Amnesia” and “Amen Yves” that captured both a pop sensibility and a certain dark and mysterious intensity kind of like Movement era New Order.  However, it was the more experimental mostly instrumental tracks that struck me the most.  “Tibet” and “The Purgatory Salesman” had an atmosphere that melted into my psyche and transported me to the nether regions of my imagination.  It reminded me of 4AD’s Dif Juz, but better and more impactful.  I played this combination of songs over and over again!

 

 In the Marshes was a total music game changer for me.  This release was the first entry into Independent Project’s Archive Series.  The Archive Series was to be a monthly subscription of releases collecting previously unheard recordings by IPR related artists - none of whom I was familiar with.  These records would all be immaculately packaged in limited number editions with artistic sleeves on 10” colored vinyl.  This not only enticed my ever-expanding search for great under heard music, but my collector nerd desires.  I immediately and impatiently subscribed and was assigned my own number for each release (0340).  All of the Archive Series releases that ensued over the following few years are priceless treasures both as visual art pieces, but as mind expanding music!  Those records are very personal to me, and they introduced me to artists that I still treasure to this day.  These transactions only intensified my desire and interest in music.  It was through this new connection learned about the incredible NY band Springhouse (IPR’s founder Bruce Licher designed their debut album’s cover art), which then led me to their drummer’s long time music fanzine The Big Takeover, whose bi-annual epic tomes still inform my musical journey in 2025.  When I say this was a game changer, I mean it.  That curious purchase of In the Marshes planted a seed that truly expanded my horizons for good.

Piqued is Jeffrey Runnings’ second solo effort and sadly his last.  Runnings passed away earlier this year and this album is a posthumous release and an amazing tribute to his impressive legacy.  For Against, out of Nebraska, were an oddity.  A rare UK inspired postpunk band who created dense tension filled emotive songs that masterfully encapsulated a dream pop accessibility and an experimental melancholy that rivaled anything their influences doled out.  Their eight albums were all incredible, and in my opinion, their final two (Shade Side Sunny Side 2008; Never Been 2009) proved to be among their best.  Runnings reappeared with his first solo effort in 2016 with Primitives and Smalls, an album that never worked for me.  There’s definitely promise in those songs, but the recordings felt like they needed his band to flesh them out and give them depth.  To be honest it was an unsatisfying LP coming from an artist I had admired for so long.

 

That’s part of why Piqued is such a bittersweet album.  It’s as if Runnings had found his footing again as an artist after giving up his musical ambitions and recording songs at home for himself.  The wonderful tribute essay by Camilla Aisa included in this stunning IPR letterpress package details how Runnings had been on a life long journey to find certain simple sounds that evoke the most feeling.  This is what drew me so strongly to the esoteric side of In the Marshes.  I feel a kinship with his sound goals, as a listener.  Runnings employs older recording equipment here and the result sounds completely unique in the best of ways.  This mostly instrumental collection is captivating.  The songs sound well-worn and dusty, instead of sounding crisp, clean and pristine like so many instrumental recordings, these songs sound well-worn, disheveled, and even murky at times.  It all sounds so human.  This aesthetic boosts these tracks with character, mystery, and depth.  They make me want to know more.  As I mentioned above, they capture my imagination, drawing me into their unspoken stories.

“Batman Forever” was the first song presented after Runnings’ passing, and to be honest, I was a little wary – worried that it would sound incomplete.  However, instead it is a quiet statement of love and trust as he repeats “You’re the one I want to be there.”  It’s quite touching and listening to it now is bringing a lot of heavy emotions to the surface.  The other vocal song “Heretofore” is one of his great For Against style songs that is both catchy and deeply evocative.

My favorites of the instrumentals are “Threadbare” and its dirty sounding drum machine beat underneath washes of uncomfortable sounds; and “Failed Rescue Attempt,” which has a quiet intensity that is disconcerting, yet endlessly intriguing.  I enjoy his use of piano throughout, as his mournful keystrokes provide a powerful mystique to songs like “Glorious Grey” and “Elegy.”

This is not your usual instrumental style album.  Piqued is unique.  To some it may sound rough, but to me it sounds like adventure, exotic locations, and interesting dreams.  I feel close to these songs, because they feel like they are what I would want to create, if I had even a smidgeon of talent.  Plus I feel a heavy nostalgia thinking back to that discovery of For Against nearly 35 years ago and how important that mind and life expanding charge that followed really was. 

(https://jeffreyrunnings.bandcamp.com/album/piqued)

(For Against: https://foragainst.bandcamp.com/?search_item_id%3D1719706806%26search_item_type%3Db%26search_match_part%3D%253F%26search_page_id%3D4652100611%26search_page_no%3D0%26search_rank%3D1=)

 

Jeffrey Runnings "Heretofore"

Swing the Heartache

 

Bauhaus

Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions

(Beggars Banquet 1989)

Bauhaus, the 1979-1983 UK post punk band is largely credited with being one of the founders of the Gothic Rock movement.  Their 1979 debut single, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” is likely the main reason.  This nine-plus minute epic of dark low end bass strikes and Peter Murphy’s haunting repetitive chants of “oh Bela” and “undead” provided the groundwork for some creepy shit.  It’s funny to me that though they can easily be seen as forefathers of the Gothic Rock movement, I’ve not really ever thought of them in those terms.  It reminds me of a portion of writer Chuck Klosterman’s 2016 non-fiction book But What if We’re Wrong?  Forgive me if I misrepresent this, since it’s been nine years since I’ve read the book, but I seem to remember a section discussing the way history can be interpreted in different ways.  How things get condensed.  Who will be remembered most from 20^th century rock-n-roll?  The Beatles?  Elvis Presley?  The Rolling Stones?  What about the other several thousand artists that made massive cultural impacts?  Who might be most remembered forty years from now, as time and perspectives change and fade?  I’ve noticed the phenomenon for years, once the oldies, classic rock, and 70s & 80s radio formats began popping up on the AM/FM dials, and even now over streaming services.  For example, 80s new wave band the Thompson Twins had seven top 40 hits in the US.  Once the 80s became a genre, that band was reduced to only one hit: “Hold Me Now.”  I bring this up, because recently I put Bauhaus’ 1989 collection of BBC Radio recordings (Swing the Heartache) into my listening pile, and I find that it still sounds fresh, creative, and exciting.  Bauhaus were not a band to be pigeon-holed to the point of cliché.  I’m not going to argue that they were not Goth Rock founders.  They definitely embraced the sound, visuals, and aesthetic of the macabre and the occult.  The wonderful album cover for Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, looks up at an old spiral staircase surrounded by peeling painted walls with a ghostly figure ascending the stairs, which evokes their ghostly debut single.  However, the music and performances inside show a highly varied creative band who were willing to have fun and experiment and take chances. 

My introduction to Bauhaus was via my long time friend Wil.  I think it was 1985, and I was staying over at his family’s place.  We were a couple of 14 year olds chatting about our burgeoning musical discoveries late at night in his basement bedroom.  Wil put on his recently secured 12” single by Bauhaus named “She’s in Parties” on the turntable.  I had never heard of them, and Wil pronounced their name as “The Bajas” – as in Baja, California.  “She’s in Parties” was mildly intriguing.  To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what I felt about it at first listen.  It was different from that stuff from the predominantly hit radio I was used to.  Yet, when he excitedly flipped the record over to the B-side, I heard what sounded like a ping pong ball bouncing as a beat (or water dripping from a faucet into a tub), a walking bass-line and a British accented voice mumbling a surreal story and it was captivating!  This strange song was creepy and fun, and different than anything that I had ever heard and yet I identified with it.  The line “even the wallpaper had become sinister to him” crept into my psyche, because I had always been very emotionally effected by my surroundings, and had often contemplated why certain colors have made me uncomfortable. 

 

A few years later, I learned more about the band, and how to pronounce their name, and how they took their moniker from an early 20^th century German architectural school/movement.  I finally purchased a new CD single re-release of their first single “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.”  I loved it, but honestly its length was daunting.  Its atmosphere was heavy, so I understood where the “I fart bats” Gothic reputation had come from.  At the same time, I recognized it as a twisted type of Dub.  The delay and echo reminded more of sunshiny beaches of Jamaica, than towering castles and bat caves.  Still, I wanted to hear more.

 

It wasn’t until the summer of 1989 that I finally purchased one of Bauhaus’ full length CDs.  It was Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, which is a compilation and not one of their proper planned albums.  By that time, I was already fully immersed and fascinated by BBC Radio sessions.  Certain BBC Radio DJ’s would commission bands to record songs especially for their radio shows.  These sessions were done quickly, so they are a perfect balance between hearing a band live with the sonic clarity of a studio recording, so they are often illuminating and livelier than the more well-known versions from albums.  Bauhaus chose to use these sessions to record covers of other artist’s songs, experiment, and stretch their creativity.  I purchased this CD, because it had their cover of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” and that weird “Departure.”  I cannot emphasize enough how often I’ve listened to this collection that summer.  It wasn’t long before I knew every nuance of every song and repeatedly found myself driving off the road as I blasted “Ziggy” while air drumming.  It wasn’t long before I secured the band’s four albums (at that time).  Though, I enjoy all of those albums (especially The Sky’s Gone Out, 1982), they never hit me like this collection.

 

By late August of that year, I found myself in a dorm room at a small town college I had almost randomly chosen at the last moment.  I had only a few of my of couple hundred CD collection with me.  I had little in common with my new roommates, it was uncomfortably hot and smelled like a cow pasture everywhere I went.  I was lying on my back reading a heavy, outrageously expensive science textbook for a class that was required, yet had no interest in.   A high school teacher had taught me to read lying on my back, because if I start to get sleepy, the book will fall on my face as I drift off.  Let’s just say that I was getting beat up pretty good.  Suddenly, I heard the opening notes of Bauhaus’ “God in an Alcove” come drifting through my dorm room wall.  At first I only recognized it as a welcome diversion to the monotony, until I realized that someone I didn’t know was playing a song that I had been obsessed with for the past several weeks.

“God in an Alcove” from Bauhaus’ embryonic BBC recording for legendary DJ John Peel is so alive with energy and mystery.  Daniel Ash’s spindly guitar and the brothers Haskins’ (David J bass and Kevin Haskins drums) unveiling rhythm flows into Peter Murphy’s rich dual vocals, which bounce around at you from all angles, as two different narrators.  I dare you not to be drawn in by the insanity as Murphy repeats “I feel silly” in various voices.  The song rocks with that blistering guitar in the bridge that explodes from the meandering build up.  What a masterfully dramatically structured song!   It was the first time that I ever thought of them as a regular rock band.  This is from their first radio session in 1980, which also includes a cover of T. Rex’s “Telegram Sam,” which expertly alters the guitar riff that T Rex had recycled from his hit “Bang a Gong (Get it On)” and Bauhaus puts the song into overdrive.  There are four covers in this five session 18 song collection.  The afore mentioned cover of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” is likewise injected with some punk energy.  Providing a very accurate cover with more urgency and spunk and a top 20 UK chart single.  Apparently at the time, critics accused Bauhaus of mining some of glam rock’s greats, so they embraced it and steered into the curve and covered these essential classics.  Bauhaus’s “Third Uncle” cover may not be as edgy and obtuse as Brian Eno’s original, but it has a frenetic energy that takes it to another level.  The final cover is “Night Time” by The Strangeloves a mid-60.s fake pop band, who also hit with “I Want Candy” later made famous by Bow Wow Wow in the early 80s.  This cover is very faithful to the original, and has never captured my attention in any way.  I feel like I knew of the song prior via a TV beer commercial when I was a toddler.

 When I heard “A God in an Alcove” through my dorm room wall, I moved unconsciously like a cobra being drawn to sway by a snake charmer.  I wandered to my neighbor’s door and knocked.  Turns out it was Jeff.  We had met via the University’s strange summer camp inspired freshman orientation week.  We were both in the same group of roughly eight students each all named after animals.  We were the turkeys, and we took on the identity of the loser group.  We weren’t the lions, or the gorillas, we were awkward birds that can drown by rain.  Jeff and I are still friends after all of these years.  We bonded through our music tastes and a shared sense of absurdity.  Speaking of absurd, “Departure” and its strange narrative is paired with “Party of the First Part,” which Jeff and I still quote to this day.  The swing jazz background music sets the stage for another age old cautionary tale for someone selling their soul to the devil for personal gain in the short-term.  This tale is courtesy of the 30 minute Canadian children’s cartoon “The Devil & Danial Mouse.”  The story lays out perfectly with the over-the-top Devil voice.  It’s like the band were watching this cartoon in the studio, while adding the laid back instrumental, and funny tongue-in-cheek sounds like the slide whistle and the “aaaah” chorus when Jan Mouse says “I trust you” to B.L. Zebub, along with their general chatter calling it “absurd” and “silly.”  Still there’s never a time that I don’t want to hear this song.

 

This refreshing collection also works as a “greatest hits.”  So many of their best known songs are here in their most inspired and earliest form.  This is where their power as a collective band is at its strongest.  Bauhaus seemed to agree with this, as they sometimes used these radio session versions on their albums.  Peter Murphy’s vocals throughout are more unhinged and exciting, especially in the first couple of sessions as in the “I dare you” shouts in “Double Dare” and the grinding workout of “In the Flat Field.”  Musically as well, this quartet were tight.  Everything falls into place, as the guitars squall and blister atop incredible bass-lines and incredibly creative drumming.  The album version of “St. Vitus Dance” sounds almost cartoonish next to the more alive dissonance of the radio session version.  This collection includes many of their best known songs such as “Silent Hedges,” “She’s in Parties,” and “Terror Couple Kill Colonel,” but don’t overlook the waltz of “The Three Shadows Part 2,” and the high drama of “Swing the Heartache,” which in my opinion is far superior to the slower LP version.  Plus, is it just me or is the paranoia of “The Spy in the Cab,” especially prescient.  Peter Murphy’s performance is not only astounding, it’s much more relevant now than it was in January of 1980: “A Twenty four hour unblinking watch / Installed to pry / Installed to cop.” 

Whatever the case, it’s a shame that this Bauhaus collection has fallen mostly out of sight.  It isn’t easy to find, yet it might be their best and most vital release.  It displays their ability to transcend genres and it also feels like they had a blast recording these songs.  The sense of freedom is palpable.  There is no second guessing here, which infuses these songs with a fun exuberance that is addictive.  There will never be a time that Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions will not be essential listening. 

 

Bauhaus "Ziggy Stardust"

Tourist

 

Fragile Animals

Tourist EP

(self released)

Earlier this month, Brisbane Australia’s Fragile Animals released this wonderful long awaited six song EP.  I say long awaited because I’ve been listening to their 2023 debut album Slow Motion Burial in my car all summer so far.  That album is so big and bright and exciting that the anticipation for more has been off the charts.  Their music is incredibly polished and they sound like a veteran band, though their first release was, I believe, in 2017.  I suppose that makes them fairly veteran, please excuse my old age, where years feel like months.  My first conscious exposure to Fragile Animals was with their 2019 “Waiting” single.  They remind me a band I would’ve flipped over in the early 90s, as they utilize the LOUD-quiet-LOUD technique of song dynamics, and find a remarkable balance of edginess and tension versus clarity, anthemic hooks, and catchiness.  The massive album closer “Breathe Out and In” from Slow Motion Burial could’ve fit seamlessly next to 90s bands like cranberries, Belly, Radiohead, Whipping Boy and the like on a really good alternative radio station or mix-tape. 

First of all, Tourist, is so perfectly recorded and mixed that it sounds amazing on any kind of audio player at any volume.  Every instrument is crystal clear and vibrant and balanced.  And speaking of that fictional 90s alternative radio station, Fragile Animals would sound especially dramatic on a high watt FM broadcast!  It’s difficult for me to imagine that a band this put together is only a minor known blip in the vast sea of independent artists.  They write sturdy timeless songs that can easily match or exceed a lot of better known bands.  Their music NEEDS to be heard and shared.

The first single, “Worldview,” from Tourist is actually an older track from their 2019 EP, the ambitiously titled Only Shallow/Only More.  The urgency of “Worldview” is palpable, as the persistent beat pulses together with a mid-range bass-line.  While the searing guitars bring the dissonance.  Victoria Jenkins sings about wanting to understand the picture.  The good and the bad or indifferent sides of humanity – not the curated glimpses of some random viewpoint of an organization or government.  Or even from an individual standpoint of social media, where people only posts their good moments, for example. 

Fragile Animals "Worldview"

There’s a pretty consistent theme throughout touching on uncertainty caused by the sheer amount of us out there, and not knowing what do believe, which can lead to isolation, and more uncertainty or less understanding.  The opening “People I’ll Never Know” is a minute of quiet music and reflection whose lyrics read like someone being so overwhelmed that they can no longer go on.  The title track is a glorious chiming dose of excellent dreampop which finds us looking for a partner, yet unsure of our instincts in recognizing what’s real and what’s not.  The dramatic cymbal crashes throughout make me wonder how they didn’t shatter or stay upright.  “Sending Flares” is another tale about seeking connection, but the sing-along chorus (“freezing to the bone”) reveals the truth that one can still feel alone whether with someone or not.

The second half begins with “Into It” A downtempo reflection lamenting the loss of innocence and how jaded we become as we get exposed to hate and the ugliness of the world.  The crushing finale is “Allergic,” which tells the conflicting emotions of possibly being a caretaker of a loved one.  Feeling lost.  Feeling claustrophic.  Nowhere to turn.  “I can’t change it!”  The music is again urgent, intense, and kind of perfect.

When I mentioned above about hearing songs like these on broadcast radio, I realize that’s a dated concept.  Most people no longer listen to the radio.  Yet I lament that bands with such extremely palatable music like this one and last year’s Attic Ocean EP, or the brand new Bleach Lab EP should be relegated to the deep underground.  It’s a crime if you ask me.  Fragile Animals are continuing to improve with each release, and that’s an unbelievably difficult feat.  Hoping there’s new LP on its way soon.  I cannot recommend this enough!

(https://fragileanimals.bandcamp.com/)

Fragile Animals "Tourist"