Dear Reader. I think you know the answer to this one.
The point, more generally, is how the unmanageability that results from our addiction causes us to engage in extreme acts of behaviour, and to encounter the consequences of that behaviour, without actually setting out for that to happen. We didn’t want to end up in police cells, divorce courts, prisons and the like. We just wanted to take the edge off. But our powerlessness results in unmanageability, and unmanageability takes us to places where the authorities end up trying to manage us for us.
More concert reviews. I’m not really sure how I got into the business of concert reviews. Maybe because I haven’t been to many concerts for a while, and now I’m going bonkers again, and it’s concert, concert, concert. Unmanageability, you see. And one of my two readers asked for concert reviews.
The chronology is completely shot too. Rewinding a week or so from Primavera Sound, I went to see St. Etienne in London. I’m afraid I didn’t like St. Etienne much, and in fact only lasted 2 songs, but to be fair to them, they had a hard act to follow: Birmingham’s Go Kart Mozart. Go Kart Mozart is the vehicle of former Felt and Denim vocalist, Lawrence. I write like I’m a staffer on the NME, but to be honest I knew nothing about any of these bands or people until I rocked up at London’s Bloomsbury Ballroom. My only ammunition was that I thought “Go Kart Mozart” was a cool name, and a friend said that I would be crazy to miss this concert in Glasgow. Lawrence is a doggedly eccentric individual, who was attired in a baseball cap with a clear plastic peak, a leather jacket with the word “KILL” spelled out in studs, a rainbow coloured knitted tank top, and a courier bag. The guitarist was dressed like 1950’s vet. And the keyboard player was like an over animated Mike Read. The effect was amazing, and, for me, rather took the wind out of St. Etienne’s sails, not only visually but musically as well. For me their polished lounge pop didn’t stand a chance against the eccentric bubblegum glam synth rock (yes really) we had previously been treated to. Here’s a snap I took, and a song about criminal acts down the docks.
Something like…. when every waking hour is spent in the unthinking pursuit of various addictions to the exclusion of all other activity.
Life has been a bit like that recently, and I rocked up at Barcelona’s Primavera Sound last week in something of a state of exhaustion. By day 3 I was so tired I became ill, and missed a whole chunk of the festival. I’ve since been torturing myself by reading about the acts I missed, things I could have seen. But, whilst it is undoubtedly true that if unmanageability wasn’t raging in me at the moment, I’d get a lot more stuff done, I also should be wary about this “woulda coulda shoulda” thinking. The goal is progress, not perfection, and it’s one day at a time.
That’s not to say that Primavera Sound wasn’t completely amazing. I really have nothing to whinge about. I saw some dear friends, made some new ones, and had experiences that really were beyond my wildest dreams. So, that’s not so bad, is it? One of those experiences was the privilege of meeting My Bloody Valentine, and watching them play their open-air gig from the side of the stage, right next to the main speaker. I had my posh earplugs, but even so, it was like being strapped to a jumbo jet engine whilst it flew through an active volcano, with the noise being monitored and replayed x11. It was wonderful. I have completely fallen in love with this band. Here’s a pic I took and “I Only Said”.
Step 1 is of the 12 steps of the Narcotics Anonymous programme is:
We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable.
Step 1 of other 12 step programmes is identical, save that the word “addiction” is sometimes substituted with another. So Step 1 of Alcoholics Anonymous is:
We admitted we were powerless over our alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.
AA was the first 12 step programme I came into. Admitting powerlessness over alcohol was pretty straightforward - at the time of first meeting, it was pretty plain to me that if I had one drink I couldn’t guarantee the results. But admitting unmanageability was a different matter. Apart from the alcohol, my life was still pretty sorted, right?
As we discover with the forthcoming questions in the Narcotics Anonymous “Steps Working Guides”, the answer to that, if you’re an addict, is no, and the reason is that addiction is a condition that runs through your whole being. Taking away one particular drug isn’t going to fix the problem.
Admitting that our lives have become unmanageable is a pretty bitter pill to swallow when addicts can be incredibly stubbon, determined and self-willed people. It took a long time for me to reach the point where I was prepared to do so, and I’m frequently retracting that admission, and letting my self-will back in. If it sounds like a tough call, then the best advice is to go to meetings, be quiet, listen, and keep an open mind.
Which (really cheesily) brings me on to the final part of my incredibly delayed review of the Darvel Homecoming music festival - The Attic Lights. Previously, I had one of those “play on repeat all night” obsessions (maybe only I get them) about the Lights’ track “Never Get Sick of the Sea”. Sometimes when I’m working late, playing the same song over and over again can help me shut out distractions and get things done. But the rest of their album, “Friday Night Lights”, had left me cold, and I wasn’t really that excited about seeing them. However, attendance at hundreds of 12 step fellowship meetings no doubt has had some effect, because I was open-minded enough to appreciate that they were, in fact, a really fucking amazing band.
Here’s a photo I took with my own fair hands (and a Canon) and “Never Get Sick of the Sea”.
Hmmm, sensitive subject, as for a little while now some of my addictive behaviours have been raging, and I and other people have been paying the price, as I’ve been tired, full of self-loathing, and generally foul tempered. I made it to a meeting the other night and saw a stranger who I suspect is my sponsor. Some steps in the right direction.
The wider point (trying to move away from this navel-gazing) from this question in the Narcotics Anonymous “Steps Working Guides” is that our powerlessness means that pain inflicted on ourselves and others isn’t enough to get us to stop. Pain isn’t enough. Over the next few posts I’ll going through the questions in the Guides relating to unmanageability, and then I’ll be looking at surrender, which is where Step 1 really begins to kick in.
I’ve written before about The Primary 5, the vehicle of former Teenage Fanclub drummer Paul Quinn. When we last left The Primary 5, Paul had announced that he was folding the band and quitting the music business. He obviously meant it - I subsequently read that he was selling off items of musical equipment. But then, he came back. And he came back to Darvel, Ayrshire. On after Dropkick, The Primary 5’s youthful line was augmented by Gordon Keen (formerly of the BMX Bandits, Captain America and Eugenius). For the track “High 5″ they were joined by Duglas T. Stewart of the BMX Bandits. The final song was the joyous “Make Believe” from 2007’s “Go”.
I’ve struggled to connect the topic from the “Steps Working Guides” with the concert - I’ve got a lot of concerts to get through and I’m way behind schedule. All I can say is that my addiction has immense potential to cause me and others harm, and is often happily doing so. By contrast my recovery has really has brought me things beyond my wildest dreams - I certainly never thought I’d be sitting behind a trestle table in Darvel, drinking Diet Irn Bru, and seeing a band where several of the members have become friends. It’s a pretty good feeling. Here’s a photo I took of Duglas, and “Make Believe”.
Well, my musical mojo has been revitalised by a lovely weekend seeing bands in Glasgow and Newcastle, DJ’s in Newcastle, and friends in Glasgow, Newcastle and Cumbria. And I’ve been taking photos, sticking them up on “Facey”, and people have being saying nice things about them (although the trick seems to be to take about 250 photos and see if you get 4 or 5 good ones). And I think this blog needs a kick up the arse. At the moment, I’m ploughing through the Narcotics Anonymous “Steps Working Guides”, and it feels like a bit of a slog and a rather too-personal exercise, in a bad, navel-gazing sort of way. My intention was to go through the whole book, but at the current rate, we’ll be on it in 2011. So, I’m going to finish Step 1, maybe missing out some questions, trying to be a bit punchier, and we’ll review it at the end of that chapter. OK readers?
The Glasgow gig was actually a little outside Glasgow, in Darvel, Ayrshire, at the Darvel Homecoming festival. The theme of the festival seemed to be the niceness and warm-heartedness of the organisers, from the moment they personally emailed me and told me my ticket would be waiting for me, to the incredibly friendly welcome when I arrived, and then band after band saying how well they had been treated. Apparently there’s home cooking for all performers instead of a fiver and being pointed in the direction of the chip shop. The whole thing has an atmosphere of local friendliness and I can’t recommend this festival highly enough.
The name “Dropkick” is one I’ve seen floating around the Teenage Fanclub messageboards and other similar web places, but for whatever reason the band has passed me by until Friday night when I saw them play Darvel. Consisting of 2 brothers and 2 non-brothers, they are a Scottish alt-country power pop band and were just really rather good in that relaxed diffident way that very talented people are. Here’s a photo I took (for once!) and the track “Obvious”, which seemed be my thought about today’s question from the NA literature. I’ll be writing more about the festival over the coming days. Eager fans of factual accuracy can in the meantime read this speedily produced and handy review.
A classic example of this is creating an argument with a loved one with the specific intention of storming off in a huff and using once alone. At one stage in my active addiction, Sunday night (great choice!) was reserved in my head for using. So Sunday was the night I “worked”, so I had to be alone. Sometimes my then girlfriend had the temerity to think that she might stay over, watch some TV, stay the night, whilst I was working downstairs. Cue tantrums, “panic attacks”, pointless arguments about nothing. What a total cock. But of course this was my powerlessness over my addiction, as this question in the Narcotics Anonymous “Steps Working Guides” reminds us. Doesn’t excuse it, but explains it.
John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” seems appropriate at this juncture, here covered by The Faces, from a bootleg called “Killer Highlights”, shamelessly stolen (including the pic!) from here.
For example: Do I become arrogant? Self-centered? Mean-tempered? Passive the the point where I can’t protect myself? Manipulative? Whiny?
The examples given in the Narcotics Anonymous “Steps Working Guides” are just examples, and it’s whatever applies in your particular case. For me, a cycle of focused determination to obtain whatever it is I’m acting out on, to the exclusion of everything else, greedy and furtive consumption of the same, followed by feelings of uselessness and self-pity. And then back to the beginning. My powerlessness over my addiction has me running round in unattractive self-serving circles.
This question in the Narcotics Anonymous “Step Working Guides” looks, in the context of Step 1, at how our powerlessness over our addiction overrules all innate morals or standards we might have in order that the addiction be fed. I think this ties in quite well with the process in Steps 4 and 5, when we take a moral inventory and admit the exact nature of our wrongs. There is (or certainly was for me) a fear about Steps 4 and 5 that there were these terrible admissions to be made. The process of Step 5 normally reveals that many people in recovery have made similar admissions, and done similar things. The connection is that we are all addicts, and our addiction, and in particular our powerlessness, has this effect of overriding what we know to be right. We find ourselves doing things that we would never do if it weren’t for our addiction, things that make us shudder with shame when we think of them.
So, in “sobriety”, when I find myself doing stuff that I normally wouldn’t dream of doing, my experience and the experiences of others tell me that I’m in a dangerous place. And so the tenuous recovery link to today’s song: Brooklyn’s Matt & Kim’s new single “Lessons Learned”, a rare (and very welcome) vocal foray by Kim, from the excellent new album “Grand“, which comes complete with a new video featuring Matt, Kim, Times Square, and lots of public nudity.
This question in the Narcotics Anonymous Step Working Guides made uncomfortable reading when I typed it out on the last post. As the book says:
We are powerless when the driving force in our life is beyond our control. Our addiction certain qualifies as such an uncontrollable, driving force. We cannot moderate or control our drug use or other compulsive behaviours, even when they are causing us to lose the things that matter most to us. We cannot stop, even when to continue will surely result in irreparable physical damage. We find ourselves doing things that we would never do if it weren’t for our addiction, things that make us shudder in shame when we think of them… We may have tried to abstain from drug use or other compulsive behaviours - perhaps with some success - for a period of time without a programme, only to find that our untreated addiction eventually takes us right back to where we are before. In order to work the First Step, we need to prove our own individual powerlessness to a deep level.
Well, I’ve been proving my own individual powerlessness on a pretty deep level recently. Hopefully I’m a little more back on track now. I shared in a meeting tonight for the first time in ages, and at one of my favourite meetings, inside my local prison. I got to a part where I talked about some of the stuff I did which helped me recover, and realised that I wasn’t doing any of it at the moment. Back to basics, again.
Yesterday I had a ticket to see Camera Obscura, but not really the inclination, as, high class problem here, I’ve seen them 3 times in the past year or so. In the end, and largely because I have a dear friend overseas who’s a huge fan, and couldn’t face telling him I’d not gone, I got over there. It was a revelation. Although they’ve been around a while, this band has really grown and matured and gained a confidence that it didn’t seem to have when I saw them at the same venue in 2007. And it got me thinking as to how I’ve changed over that period. Certainly my circumstances then were very different to my circumstances now, or indeed when I saw them in Glasgow in January last year and again in Spain last summer. And it got me thinking how lucky I am, and how important it is for me to stop fucking around with what I’ve got. I started off thinking “hmmm, I’ll leave half way if I get bored”, and ending up rooted to the spot, mesmerised. For an encore they played, as always, “Razzle Dazzle Rose”, but before that, hesitantly, tentatively, “Books Written for Girls”, a rare live choice.
If you want to know about the effect “Books Written for Girls” can have, then read this beautifully written blog post. I could try to describe how the song made me feel and just flail around with a load of adjectives, but I don’t think I’d ever improve on that.
Quite a lot. People, places and things. Most addicts’ lists feature things like alcohol, drugs, sugar, sex, love, relationships, nicotine, work, shopping, computer games, the internet, gambling, etc etc etc.
And, for me, any track with firework effects. I’m powerless over my instant obsession for it. Here’s a remix by Delorean (a new obsession following last weekend’s concert) of a track by L.A.’s Glasser, “Glad”. The blog that I stole it from, Gorilla vs. Bear, rightly said that the fireworks were “perfectly placed”. Here’s some (rare) value-added from higherpowermoment.com: the fireworks come in at the exact point of the Golden Ratio. I worked that out myself, with a calculator. Gotta love that Golden Ratio.
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