Sunday, December 13, 2015

The Muses Love Broken Vessels

Some of you are probably wondering why I haven't published a book in 5 years, despite the fact that I have a number of projects in the works. The primary reason is I simply haven't had the time. 

But there's also the fact that the publishing world is is going through some hard changes these days, and I usually can't put aside paying work to concentrate on writing, which I've never done more than break even on (and I consider myself phenomenally lucky in that regard, mind you).

There's also the hard choices to be made when bringing a book to market. You can either self-publish or go with an established house. Self-publishing offers total freedom, but also total responsibility. You're on the hook for every step of the process, from conception to marketing and every stop along the way. It's a lot of work and most writers aren't cut out for it.

I self-published my book on The Clash and it was a ball. But it didn't sell all that much because I wasn't motivated to go out and plug what was essentially a glorified fanzine (and I mean that as a compliment- I created that book as a tribute to the underground punk press that put such a fire in my gut as a teenager). 

I also self-published because I felt so incredibly burnt by my first publishing excursion, the comic series that was collected into a graphic novel, which was  supposed to be a 120 page story until I was told to gut 24 pages out of it. I should have walked away rather than tear the heart out of my story. If you find yourself in that situation be sure you do. 

The Secret History of Rock n' Roll was a situation in which I told the editors I needed at least 100-120K words and if I didn't get it the book would suffer for it. So of course I was initially offered 50K, the size of a long journal article. I bumped it up to the mid 60s after a lot of pleading. I knew I was dead but soldiered on. It's complicated.

I did the absolute best I could with the space I was given. And I think the final product stands on its own, even if I felt like I was typing with handcuffs on the entire time. Ultimately, it's the beginning of a discussion. It's all I could do given the space I had to work with. It's basically an introductory text to a thesis most people have no concept of, so maybe it's for the best. 

I thought I was making a simple argument- the ancient Mysteries organized themselves around certain archetypes and personalities and the revival of the Mysteries- the classic Rock period from roughly the late 50s to the early 90s- did the same. I didn't think I would have to constantly remind people of these parallels throughout the book. And by people I mean "critics."

Unfortunately there was an avalanche of research that never made it into the book ( I read through a enormous pile of books working on this project), side issues that needed to be explored to fill in the gaps. I just didn't have the space.

One of the issues I wanted to explore in the book kicked up again with Scott Weiland's death. And that is how the most gifted musicians are often the most fucked-up. How the most shamanic performers have terrible pain and trauma in their CVs.

Johnny Rotten- who launched a revolution- suffered from a particularly excruciating case of spinal meningitis in his youth and then watched his mother- who cared for him while he was ill- rot away from cancer shortly after the Sex Pistols' first breakup. Joe Strummer and David Bowie both grew up sharing close bonds with severely mentally ill brothers (Strummer's brother committed suicide in public when he was 19). 

Ian Curtis suffered from depression and was diagnosed with epilepsy just as Joy Division were taking off (the epileptic in "She's Lost Control" is Curtis himself, a classic example of poetic dissociation). The epilepsy may have manifested itself in hallucinations, as Curtis sang of dead souls beckoning him to join them shortly before his suicide. He certainly didn't sound like he was being emo.

Elizabeth Fraser and Jeff Buckley shared trauma in their past, Fraser was the victim of longterm sexual abuse and Buckley lost the father he never really knew when the elder Buckley died of a drug overdose. Roger Waters lost his father in the war, a trauma that replayed itself over and over in his work. 

John Lennon came from a troubled home and lost his mother when she was struck by a car when the singer was 17. Paul McCartney lost his mother when he was 14, and her memory inspired one of The Beatles' most iconic anthems, "Let it Be." 

Jimi Hendrix grew up in a troubled home, marred by poverty, violence and alcoholism. Michael Jackson- and the entire Jackson family- suffered under the tyrannical rule of father Joe. They were denied the luxury of childhood as they were carted from one performance to another. 

The Beach Boys' Wilson brothers also suffered under a tyrannical father, resulting in substance abuse, mental illness, and early death. Tina Turner suffered spousal abuse for years under the yoke of her husband Ike. Ozzy Osbourne ended up joining the band of the bully who made his school days hell. Talk about dysfunctional.

And then there's the endless litany of psychological damage, substance abuse and burn- outs. That seems to be the rule, not the exception. People don't understand the kinds of pressures successful professional musicians are put under; the touring, the personal appearances, the meetings, the ass-kissing, the photo sessions, the video shoots, all of the crap that has nothing to do with writing and performing music. 

Artists will freely volunteer that drugs are such a part of the process because it's nearly impossible to function in that pressure-cooker world without them. Stevie Nicks nearly burned out her nose and throat with cocaine, which she got into to cope with the brutal schedule the band was thrown into when they became superstars. 

I do wonder what deeper streams are at work though. I've seen hundreds of "serves him right" or "he had it coming" kind of comments rise in the wake of Scott Weiland's death. It certainly seems that he was a difficult person to work with or be in a relationship with. Musicians are difficult enough, really good ones are worse, and damaged ones are nigh impossible.

His second wife nurses a serious vendetta against him, and the increasingly odious Rolling Stone gave her a soapbox to trash his memory mere days after his death. (I love these women who shun nice guys and chase after bad boys only to discover that they're called "bad boys" for an actual reason).

But she herself admits to bipolar disorder and drug addiction in her autobiography, two of the demons that Weiland copped to. But I always sensed a much deeper injury in Weiland's jacket. People who don't know his work don't understand how pained and confessional so much of his lyrics and vocals were.

The narrative goes Weiland went out a trainwreck but he was giving 
powerful performances like this the week before his death

I am beginning to believe Weiland was self-medicating to cover a history he could only ever refer to obliquely. He offhandedly mentioned being raped in his semi-coherent autobio (written during one of his darker periods) but I think was more candid in the 2001 track "Long Way Home":

Leave me out, get away I gotta go
Long way home can't see through the trees

Leave me alone, get away better run fast as I can

From the man dirty man the old man

The controversial lyrics to "Sex Type Thing" also raise questions. Weiland explained that they were about a girl who'd been raped by a bunch of jocks but the voice isn't that of a young man, it's the voice (and the vocal performance) of an old redneck. Was the song actually another example of poetic dissociation?

If Weiland suffered serious and/or longterm abuse when he was young- particularly if it was violent abuse- then the arc of his autodestruction makes more sense. 

Whatever the irrelevant critic class thinks, there's a serious argument to be made that he was the most gifted frontman and vocalist of his generation. A recombinant Jim Morrison/David Bowie chimera. Which is to say that he had everything to live for, every reason to keep his shit together. But something was eating away at him, something too raw and deep to ever come to terms with. In the end, it was etched all over his face.

I can't help but think of Maynard James Keenan and "Prison Sex." Keenan has always been very coy about the song's real meaning, begging off that it's about his hatred of his stepfather. Or something. But the lyrics speak for themselves. They're too explicit and directional for ambiguity. He's not singing in character, he's singing a pure revenge fantasy in the first person, addressing something that ate away at his guts for a very long time.

But that's Tool, who trade in darkness, violence and sexual transgression. Stone Temple Pilots were a totally different vibe, increasingly offering up traditional party rock in the Led Zeppelin model. Maybe Weiland wanted to exorcise his pain but a suit told him it would be bad for sales. Here, have some of this, it will make you feel better. I promise.

The legendary A+R man John Kalodner insists that antidepressants killed rock and roll, since they numbed out a generation who would once channel their pain into art. What he's saying is that there are fewer broken vessels for the Muses to channel themselves through. 

They rarely seem to choose anything but. I'd like to think suffering is over-rated but hearing the endless tapeloop on my radio (both the same old songs here and endless regurgitations of them there) seems to argue against that.

I keep hearing people tell me how great this or that band is you just have to search them out, but who can argue the great rock and roll culture of the postwar era is not dead? It wasn't suicide, it was a deliberate campaign on the part of insurance companies, local governments and real estate developers, to name just a few of the conspirators. But there's also the pharmaceutical companies and video game makers, numbing out young minds so all that pain is no longer available as Muse food.

I don't mean to diminish your favorite new band I'm just saying the ecosystem that nurtured the truly great artists is gone. What new one will take its place is an open question.

Music is a relationship between the musician, whatever baggage he or she bring to the table and Forces Unknown. I know this for a fact having pursued music seriously for a number of years in my teens and twenties. 

It was actually playing music that convinced me that there were layers of reality and being far beyond that wafer-thin layer of conscious attention we mistake for our selves. 

I had actual out of body experiences while playing (I even caught one on tape- it kicked in around the two minute mark ). It's no big thing, any musician worth their salt has them on a periodic basis. I experienced genuine psychic communication while playing, and that too comes with the job description. Fully formed compositions would emerge out of the ether during jam sessions.

It was the singer in my old band- who could summon fully-formed melodies over chord progressions he'd just heard- who introduced me to the reality of the Muses and the magic they work. A reductionist would insist this is just the subconscious or some shit but what do they know about it? It's like listening to a virgin lecturing about sex. Hopeless. Go fuck yourselves, reductionists.

I have great faith in the Muses- whoever or whatever they are. They've lived through worse times than these. Faith in rock 'n' roll? I don't know. We'll have to see how it goes. It's a very limited form as currently understood. I think it needs to grow some wings and break out of the limits we place on it. 

There's still a universe of sound and rhythm you can explore with guitars and drums, and musicians today should be building their musical EMdrives and doing it. Four to the floor has been done to death. It's time for something else.

The Muses love broken vessels but they also love intrepid explorers. And that goes for more than music, I might add. 


  1. Maybe, but antidepressants really don't do anything for those truly in deep pain and suffering greatly.

  2. regarding rock critics, I believe it was Frank Zappa who said something to the effect that the definition of a rock critic was someone who couldn't write preparing articles about bands who couldn't play for an audience who couldn't read. Typical Zappa cynical hyperbole but there's something there. Most rock (and also pop and punk) criticism seems to take the form of slagging bands just because they don't like them, not because of the musical or lyrical content of the work under discussion.

  3. It was my pleasure to have collaborated with you for five minutes as youth. I should kept going with you. I was not wounded, just angsty. As always great words Chris. Stay well and happy my friend, Dale

  4. Oh man, every angle of this is so right in my interest-wheel-house. Killer post.

    I was having thoughts just the other day about certain lyrics. Taking them at something closer to face value, and stuff like that. There are particular artists I wonder about. Artists for whom when you add-in some of their other behaviors, it really makes you wonder.

    I didn't know a lot of those things about most of those people you mentioned. The troubled early lives, and all that.

    It's crazy, and if you keep moving along the Rock N' Roll timeline, you of course see the same stuff.

    James Hetfield: Mother dies of an illness when he's a teen. Mom doesn't seek medical help because of Christian Science beliefs.

    Dave Mustaine: He, mom and sisters move around constantly to stay one step ahead of abusive father/husband.

    Axl Rose: Birth father disappeared, most likely murdered (there was a major book bio that was canned at the last minute about 10 years ago that was rumored to contain all the details).

    Staley, Cobain, Vedder, and Corgan...broken homes, abuse, drug addiction (parents), missing parents, lies about parentage, etc.

    Did you ever hear the interview Weiland gave to Howard Stern, Chris? iirc, he talked about the sexual abuse a fair bit. Don't know if it was more than in the book, as I haven't read it.

    "Fuel for The Muses". I like that. That'd be like maybe the passive side to it - just shit that you've been through, that has happened TO you, that opens a door. I've wondered if there's a more 'activity induced' side to it. Like, things YOU do (being aware or not) that open the same door, and what all those activities might be, aside from drugs.

  5. the psychic communication between musicians is definitely one of the spookiest (not meaning scary) things I've experienced. changing to a different part at the exact same time without looking at each other, as if it had been practiced a hundred times even though you're improvising something that didn't exist until the moment you played it, so there's no way any plan/structure was charted and discussed before hand. It's like a goddamn drug when you experience it in a profound way (which is what's ruined me as far as trying to do solo work only. I need collaborators, it's no fun without those unspoken incidents). Experiences like that were, for sure, some of the defining events in my mind that lead to my belief that musicians are naturally weird with peculiar interests because their sensitivity to unseen forces absolutely alters their conception of "reality" and lead musicians to pick up on "Universe quirks" way out ahead of most people.

    just as an example, I've read some of the musicians from Sun Ra's (a true weirdo's weirdo, who proclaimed to have been from Saturn) Arkestra are obsessed with Agartha and similar subjects, and then someone like Miles Davis who had records named "Sorcerer", "Agharta", etc.

    it's what keeps me obsessed with music.

  6. I think the "numbing" as you say, from antidepressants, is a good way to put it. In my experience, those of us that won't endure abuse any longer get drugged into oblivion. I know my anger at surviving abuse scares many people, but I also think that people need and deserve to be scared, be disturbed, at what they've allowed and encouraged to happen.

    I'm starting to wonder if Rock-'n-Roll is dead as a genre, and the next wave will be artists that find a new way to channel the muses? I'm another that mostly listens to pop, dance, and hard rock from the 80s and the 90s.

  7. I love this post for many reasons. I've experienced what can only be described as telepathy while playing music with other people. it's happened hundreds of times, and tapping into it is quite magickal and like nothing i've ever experienced.

    I just plowed through John Lydon's autobiography, Anger is an Energy and I highly recommend it. He goes into depth about his meningitis and having to relearn virtually EVERYTHING from the age of 7 to 14. Especially interesting was his description of trying to speak. He thought he was speaking words but only gibberish was coming out.

  8. Hey Chris,

    This post is crazy good, but I expect nothing less from you, and I'm never disappointed. Indeed, the Muses love broken vessels. With musicians it's perhaps more acute, but I'd wager it holds true for artists across the spectrum. Just look at Jack Kirby, clearly a traumatised prophet of sorts.

    I think you touched on a very powerful insight, especially from a Gnostic perspective - the preponderance of illness, trauma and sexual abuse amongst our most gifted artists. Because, let's be honest, Gnosticism implies that humanity is essentially a rape survivor. I can't think of a more accurate way to describe the archonic full-spectrum slavery the human race has suffered. It's ugly and awful and makes one feel uneasy just contemplating such notions. We'd rather that our history wasn't one of abuse at the hands of the trusted or the powerful, but it is. Inarguably so, in my opinion.

    But the point I wanted to make is that folks like Weiland, Buckley, Fraser - their art recovers the supressed aspects of the human experience, they act as voices for the voiceless. In an elitist, archonic world that is preparing to remove all trace of true dissent and true confessional art from our culture it's no wonder that artists have to approach such subjects obliquely. I find it strange (and also perfectly understandable) that human beings tend to forget that most of what we class as history or biography is incomplete at best and utter garbage at worst.

    We forget that our own personas are carefully cultivated masks and fictions and half-truths designed, usually, to protect ourselves and the ones we love. For example, every single person reading this has secrets or experiences that they will only share with their most trusted friends and loved ones. If someone wrote a biography of Raj Sisodia, for example, or even if I wrote an autobiography myself, it wouldn't even come close to the full truth of who and what I really am. This is by necessity. Because, as we all know, few people have the time, patience or inclination to internalize the context and nuance that would make such revelations workable or useful. Truth can leave us exposed, ridiculed, outcast or killed. Even when that truth is a story of victimisation through no fault of our own. We doubt that the masses would have the requisite sensitivity to handle such truths without trashing our reputations, calling us liars, or otherwise making our lives intolerable in some way. Which is why many artists, especially writers and musicians, learn to speak in refer to the most raw truths only obliquely. At least, this has been my personal experience. Truly excellent work, Chris.


  9. Research has shown that most anti-depressants work no better (sometimes less well) than a placebo. But with side effects. In other words, for truly damaged people, they do nothing at all to ease the pain.

    I took Prozac for 6 months in my mid-20's, due to depression. It actually seemed to work for me but I wonder if it was really that. I took more illegal drugs during that period than I ever had before or since, yet never got hooked on anything. I suspect that it was because I never had any of the trauma or horror in my childhood that I think people like Weiland and other successful creative types have had. Even in the haze of drug intoxication, I remember thinking to myself that this was interesting, but that I'd never do it again because I was afraid I might not be able to stop at some point. Damaged people don't think like that I have to assume. They just think that the haze is so much better to the horror always trying to push its way to the surface of their consciousness. That period was, not surprisingly my most creative and interesting as a musician. I now suspect that the muses found a way in through my observations of the more broken people around me (you can't do the kinds of drugs I tried without seeing lots of such people). Something like that anyway. I still write stuff and play, but things I've written in my more comfortable middle age just seem to lack that certain........something that the stuff I wrote back then seemed to have in abundance. Angst? "Outsider" influence? I don't know.

    I totally relate to the telepathy of musical collaboration, and still experience it to this day (though not as much as I did in my younger, more drug fueled days). It's why I always prefer to play with others rather than just by myself.

    It's funny, back in my early 30's, when I was finally accepting that I wasn't going to make a living as a musician, a part of me realized that I had been spared the self destructive tendencies of famous musicians. While I don't have any trauma from my past to worry about, I doubt I would have handled the stress of stardom well had I been thrust into it at a relatively young age. I doubt in that environment I would have been as thoughtful about drug use as I ended up being back then. Great post Chris, thanks.

  10. Again, give me time to return to these wonderful comments. There was a death in the family and things have been a bit unsettled the past couple of weeks. I'll be digging in to these and hopefully catching up with previous comments by the end of the week. Thank you as always for your thoughtfulness.

    1. so sorry to hear that, Chris. posi vibes sent your way, for sure.

    2. Chris, very sorry to hear this and just like andrew above, sending positive vibes your way.

  11. Hope things are not too dark for you right now, Chris. My condolences

  12. What happens to poets and musicians who wander from their gifts can be found in the first lines of Homer's 'Odyssey' when read in context to our discussion as Homer states, "Sing to me of the man, Muse, of twists and turns driven time and again off course." The fault maybe within ourselves as the nature of the Muse from the pages of mythology instructs us that they were helpful above all and conferred upon the deserving poet three gifts: a laurel branch to use as a scepter, a beautiful voice with which to sing their verse and knowledge of the future and the past. What pisses them off is what always pisses off gods and their elemental children with us---hubris. Our clever talent for arrogant pride. We stopped invoking the Muses centuries ago and instead have shrugged off their gentle gifts with intoxication in lieu of communication. In the light of myth, is it really so surprising so many of our cherished and talented artists perish in such similar ways? As easily as the Muses can breathe divinity into our imaginations, they can also blow out the flame of innovation and inspiration. Often, that flame reaches into the core of the artist and when that light goes out, so does the life which was warmed by it. I, too, have courted the Muses in my youth and as quickly as I was inspired by then and astonished and confused when they abruptly left, I would dare not seek them like a ride at an 'amusement' park. In this stage of my life, I am terrified of their touch and would fill my ears with sealing wax lashed to my cubical rather than chance pissing off any of those Daughters of Memory. Better they remain in mine as they were in a time when I was, not as I am now. That is my offering of fast food of the gods.