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 entire 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 elicit notice out in public, so I stopped that.  It's not difficult to be forgettable.  I’ve always been generic, because I am.  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 spark conversation about health experiences and health care and just life in general. 

 

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 struggle.  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 it’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.  My efforts to be alone have been pretty damn successful, so now 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?