Letter to Hope

I have referenced it several times over these many posts over the years, either via journal style entries or through short stories, but the early 90s was a terrible time for me. Besides dealing with my own fairly serious health crises, I lost my mom to cancer, lost two friends to suicide, and frittered away what may have been my best shot at love. It didn’t help that this all went down during the emotionally charged age of the early twenties, when pretty much everything that happens in life seems way more epic and significant than it really is due to a lack of experience crossed with heavy doses of uncertainty while trying to find a direction with life. These are things that we all experience.


The main way I have always chosen to deal with personal crisis is to turn to music. It has always been my sanctuary. I rise with it when I am on a high, maintain with it when things are running along routinely, and wallow with it when times turn rough. Writing about Jawbreaker with the previous post (Ache), a lot of those powerful and dark memories that coincided with that band’s existence have returned to the forefront of my thoughts. So too has much of the music that I discovered during my efforts to track down every single song that Jawbreaker released. Not only did that great band release four amazing albums, but they routinely put some of their best songs onto different punk compilations from around the country, so I had to track those down too. It was through these that I ran into the frighteningly prolific and always thought provoking J Church (from the legendary 17 Reasons Mission District 7” boxed set), the tumultuous buzz saw shred of Radon, the politically fueled Strawman, among many others. However, it was hearing the early Husker Du - like magic of Spoke’s “Descant,” (from the 1993 Allied Records’ amazing compilation: Music for the Proletariat) that inspired me to check out more from them and would lead me to find great solace, comfort, and joy in their words and sounds (little did I know then, that I already had this song on a spilt 7” that came sleeved in a comic book from a year or so prior).

It’s always a little discouraging when you get all excited to listen to a new CD from a newly discovered band and the credits in the little booklet state this about the band: “Spoke was Chuck Horne, Scot Hagel, and Jonathan Resh.” Sadly, by the time Spoke’s first CD Done, a 1994 collection of their three 7” singles and a couple of compilation offerings, the band had split. This is a massive shame, because these early recordings from this Florida trio show a huge amount of promise. All three members sing and write songs and this versatility is what seems to drive my love of punk rock trios (which would be a list way too long to bother to provide). Done, as a whole is, not surprisingly, a little scattershot, considering that it’s a compilation of their earliest songs. The metal tinged opener “Anithistamine,” which makes using an inhaler for an asthma attack sound like breathing in napalm on a battlefield (“clenched fists grind down abraded eyes”) before relief finally comes (“I cannot prove how my misery’s removed”). Similarly, “Harsher Winds Fall” and “Crushed” come along later in the proceedings with a striking metallic influence, which isn’t really my thing, but they are decent songs. “Harsher Winds Fall” addresses the sad fact that racism continues to be an issue in these times over some tight riffage, while “Crushed” is a short burner with abstract words that effectively convey the feeling of being trampled by someone you hold dear. Other than these small examples of a metal side, Spoke seem to have brought to the table more of a punk rock aesthetic. Their heartfelt and sometimes roughly played songs remind me of the early Lemonheads as fronted by Ben Deily (Spoke was also recorded by Tom Hamilton, who recorded those first three Lemonheads releases) and when Jonathan Resh takes over the lead, he has a gruff, yet spot on vocal style that reminds of Bob Mould during his Husker Du years (check out the chorus of “Prey” or the aforementioned “Descant”). What really made these guys always stand out for me amongst the rolling drums fills, buzzing guitars and mid range exploratory bass lines they provide are their powerful lyrics. Having said that, there are two instrumentals, “Mareado” and “You & Joy” that are downright harrowing and exhilarating. They tackle politics (“Descant”), racism (“Harsher Winds Fall”), religion (“Prey”), prostitution (“Dark City Sister”), and of course many matters of the heart. Just try to get the repeated refrain from the wistful love song “Just a Thought” out of your head (“she’s a rose in a pond of water”).

Luckily, Spoke left us with an actual debut album All We Need of Hell (the title fittingly taken from the Emily Dickinson poem “Parting”) that was also released posthumously in 1994. The liner notes provide that two of the songs included were written in memory of two different people lost and that loss is reflected all over this massive 19 song album. It is those two heart wrenching songs that provided the understanding comfort I needed to help with my losses. “Letter to Hope” instantly became one of the most powerful songs in my collection with its poetic imagery, swiftly shuffling music, and Resh’s mournful, angry and lost vocals. Just hearing the song now makes tears well up in my eyes (“and though I still stand unresolved / and though her world came to an end / and though she can’t be seen again / the ink bleeds forth from the pen of what once was / I’ll soon send my letter to hope”). Likewise, “Lil,” the other tribute, uses sparse lyrics to create a powerful scene of uncomfortable uncertainty (“close the light / but I don’t want to go to sleep / pace in circles / talk to myself”) over nervous and naked guitars before exploding in a cascade of frustrated noise after the narrator decides to self medicate to ease the pain (“behold the scythe / it tears a patched quilt of life / let’s spill the medicine and drink down good night”). The musically similar “80 Percent” (a song that provides an imaginary soundtrack opening for a short story I wrote: Kim the Waitress) powerfully addresses regret over a failed relationship with some serious self realization (“but I know an assurance of perpetual love was quite impossible / when only 80 percent of what she wants can I fulfill”). I’m not sure what it is, but I seem to be drawn to emotionally devastating songs, but their impact on me often is increased in a punk rock framework. Maybe it helps to swallow the rough message when it’s combined with some sense of release. The busy “My Eyes” arches and races through it’s tempo, but still smacks you across the face with a scene of inner turmoil for the narrator as he encounters someone who has used him, but he still yearns for their love (“my soul’s been yours to lose / my feelings fall to you / so what will you do? / I want to see you all the time”), while the wistful and dreamy “Crazy” finds joy with the early stages of a relationship (“I have lost all control of my heart of which you stole”). The powerful short story inside of the “Celebrated Summer”-like “Porch” seems to introduce us to some lifelong friends who are ready to embark on their life’s travels (“and the world spins on axis with little assurance for us all / but the steps between our home and the cold world bridge each day in time”), while the hard charging “Ruptured Seam” allows some real catharsis within its ranting toward breakdown in two minutes. This album is not all deadly serious. The opening instrumental “Sculpture” eases us into the odd “Gordon Johnson.” I’m not sure who he is, but according to the song “he blows.” Also, “Inga” opens with hysterical psychotic sounding laughter before merging into an atmospheric instrumental roll with haunting vocals expressing a longing for an inflatable doll. There are also two fine covers of two influential bands: Wire’s comeback song “Ahead” (1987) and a drastic reworking of Minor Threat’s “Salad Days” (1985). I could go on and on, but I will take a breath and relent. This is an amazing album that has been virtually unnoticed from its time of release and especially since, which is a tragedy. I am not doing it much justice here, but I urge you to give this short-lived band a try via their one time label No Idea Records. You can track down Done here and All We Need of Hell here.

Spoke "Letter to Hope"

Is It Safe?

I’m coming up on the 8th anniversary of my kidney transplant. If you know me, or have taken the time to peruse the nonsense I’ve been posting on here for the last few years, you’ll know how monumental that event was for me. However, I am not heading in to this year’s celebration feeling too hot. It all reminds me of the second and third years after the transplant. Once the huge high of receiving the new kidney and lease on life started to wear off, once the build up of a few years worth of terrible side effects from massive doses of steroids began to exact their toll, and once reality started to set in, I had a minor crash. When I first received the new kidney, they had me so hopped up on steroids (including rabbit adrenaline!) that just a few days after the surgery I was literally riding my IV pole throughout the hospital hallways like a skateboard with my hospital gown blowing free and loose in the breeze. The excitement of getting a second chance mixed with the brew of hyperactivity inducing drugs had me talking a mile a minute and nearly foaming at the mouth with excitement. I vowed during that frantic time that I would never waste my time again. Of course, within a few months I was back to my old work grind, living essentially as I had before, and instead of being pumped with energy, I was in constant physical pain from something called “avascular necrosis” (which roughly translates as ‘dead or dying bones’ - caused by the same drugs that were helping my body accept my new kidney), and exhausted all of the time. It was then that I truly realized that my big plans and ideas were not realistic. Life is a series of mundane activities broken up by occasional moments of excitement both good and bad, and in my case, after all the 27 (gulp!) surgeries and horrific medications that helped keep me going at all costs along with my increasing age, I was no longer physically capable of doing what I used to or longed to do. It was during that time around 2006 and 2007 that I was working to earn a living for survival, but had zero energy left over to do anything in life that I enjoyed. My life had become mostly a cycle of getting out of bed, going to work, and coming home to watch TV until I fell asleep - only to start over the next day. Does this pattern sound familiar? I think a lot of us have a similar discouraging pattern, but because of my vow and because of that second chance, it felt so acutely painful to realize that I was too exhausted and limited physically to feel like I could escape. It took me a long time, but I was able to slowly work my way to better health again and to finding more frequent moments of recreation – so much so, that this year, I made another unrealistic vow to try and do as much as I could to get out of my home and my shell and do. I can proudly say that I have! This year has been stuffed with adventures, road trips, a ton of live music, my insane LPGA marathon, and more, but I have once again found myself exhausted and frustrated by my total lack of energy and wondering if I will be able to climb back out of the hole again. What I find most depressing about all of this is the daily grind – the ease of falling so easily into the spin cycle of working every day and watching time fly by helplessly.


It’s no wonder then that the second album from L.A. based artist Dina D’Alessandro (Is It Safe?) has found its way back into my car’s CD player all summer long. I was first introduced to her music via Myspace, of all places, around the time that I was struggling with the dark spiral of the endless work grind of 2006. Back in the mid-00’s I would get 10 to 20 friend requests a week from different musical acts on Myspace (along with the multitude of “prostitute” requests from stock photo blondes claiming on my profile page things like “UR HOTT!!” despite the only picture available on my page being one of the mythic Bigfoot strolling across a clearing) and only sometimes did I actually bother to listen to the music from these artists. Thankfully, when I received this friend request, I was in one of those searching for new music mindsets and took a listen to the handful of songs featured on her profile. I believe it was then that I immediately clicked the link to CD Baby and ordered her two albums. I absolutely love them both, but it was her second offering that especially clicked with me.

2005’s Is It Safe? is absolutely a soundtrack for those of us who are not satisfied with the work a day world. D’Alessandro’s ability to capture the feelings of self disgust and frustration toward living the unfulfilling first world problem of the un-self-actualized life of a worker ant (the name of her music publisher, by the way) is profound. The opening song “Masquerade” was an instant favorite. Not only does it open with a quivering guitar line atop a bed of electric noise that rivals the best moments of A Flock of Seagulls (who she so expertly covered on her 2009 Beautiful Things album with an inspiring and energetic “Space Age Love Song” – my 2010 #16 pick – see review here), but it blossoms into a story of sitting at the office and pretending that all is well and good, while burning up inside with pain and turmoil (“I go to work and start my day / I make believe its all okay / but it’s not okay”). That’s not the only aspect that struck me immediately with this song, because the second verse brings in the element of serious health issues that I identify with, obviously, on a deep emotional level, as our character struggles with not only the dilemma of balancing work and life, but trying not to let physical limitations get in the way (“Disease is such an ugly word / A word I think they’d find absurd / but it’s not absurd / A word I’d rather not discuss / because I don’t like to make a fuss / deny it all the way”). The clincher for why this song speaks so heavily to me arrives in the third verse as Dina brings the story full circle, because part of the need to go to work every day is to get health care coverage and to make enough money to pay for mounting medical expenses, despite the potentially declining ability to work that extra amount needed to do so (“I can’t take it anymore / the desolation I ignore / I’ve got all these bills to pay / I’ll deal with it another day”). It is absolutely heartbreaking.

This album does not focus solely on this dark topic, but touches on it enough throughout to keep the emotional thread alive. The second track, “Dream the Day Away,” which is an amazingly catchy pop rock song with a fantastically catchy chorus atop layers of buzzing guitars, still finds us dwelling on a serious need for escape from “misery.” “Down Again” opens with a guitar riff that reminds me of the stratospheric edgy guitar majesty of the much missed early 90s UK band Adorable as it builds to another driving sing-a-long that finds Dina in a fighting mood and refusing to “go down again.” Before I lose control with my over analysis of the lyrics within, due to my extreme personal identification with these stories as I have interpreted them, I must point out that, aside from the minute long instrumental “Interlude” stuck fittingly in the middle, that this album is an upbeat thrilling listen. I don’t say this enough about the music I recommend, but this is fun to listen to! The performances are spot on, as Dina is backed by a tight rhythm section, giving her space to layer her stellar guitar work and the huge hooks that she writes out in front. Over all of these years and all of the listens (especially the last few months), I still find myself not only singing along while I drive down the road, but throwing in air drum fills, and wringing out feedback on my air guitar as I bounce around behind the wheel. There is not a dud in the bunch. If you take away some of the emotional impact of the lyrics, this album reminds me musically of the chiming beauty of an album that fellow Californians Julie Plug (In Every Corner) released back in 1998, one that is so endlessly likable and (sorry) adorable that it begs for repeated listens, or the non-Madchester inflected Darling Buds from the early 90s (i.e.: their amazing Erotica from 1992). However, D’Alessandro brings an added depth that makes this album an emotional rollercoaster, along with the amazing ear candy, giving her music a timeless feel. In other words, take my medical trauma colored lens interpretations of almost every song herein (aside from “Interlude” and “Everybody Loves You” – an ode to disingenuous trickster) with a grain of salt and give the album a chance to sink in and affect you in its own way. Having said this, I cannot finish this piece without mentioning the closing song “Silly Girl,” and its powerful return to the tragedy of the opener “Masquerade.” The song opens with the lines: “Hope I never see this place again / Hope I never need this place again / The world goes round me every day / As I sit here and waste away” and it is exactly the sentiment I have echoed time and again after leaving a hospital stay (or even the office at my job). Luckily, the opening guitar turns electric, a shuffle beat comes in and the lyrics offer a message of hope and support from an outside voice. It is the perfect closing song to a powerful album (these two song bookends also provided me with inspiration for an early blog post where I quote “Silly Girl” and steal the “Masquerade” title – which can be read here) that I highly recommend. Please go to CD Baby as I once did and at least give her a chance.

Unfortunately, I could not find a song from Is It Safe? on Youtube to post (oddly though this song has the cover art representing it), however, "Disappear" is a great song from Dina D'Alessandro's 2003 debut album Sweetness and Decency and is representative of her great music!