Gina Harris's Blog, page 67

Ten albums that influenced me and how

I did the Facebook postings in the order in which they came into my life, at least to the extent that I remembered it correctly. That was not exactly the order of release, but pretty close.

For the summary I thought it would be fun to group them by the influences that they had. It may make some strange bedfellows, but some of them might be quite comfortable together.

Albums that taught me small but important things:
Toys in the Attic, Aerosmith, 1975
Mad Season, Matchbox 20, 2000

Toys was the first album I bought. Well, I picked it out. Mom was buying us each a record. I was five, and was advised I would not like it, but the cover had all of these toys, and was really cool.

I learned that you can't pick an album by its cover, but also, give it some time and that album is okay. You can grow into music.

With Mad Season I was much older (almost 30), but so many guys tried to tell me that I could not like it, or that it couldn't be among my favorites. I get that Matchbox 20 is not as great a band as the Ramones, but it's my choice. Taste is subjective, and you don't get a vote.

I don't get a vote on yours, either, though I will probably have some thoughts.

Albums that changed something about how I did music
"Weird Al" Yankovic in 3-D, "Weird Al" Yankovic, 1984
From Under the Cork Tree, Fall Out Boy, 2005

I love music but am not great at it. You may not know that I have written a lot of songs, and it's fine that you don't. "Weird Al" had an earlier album, but on the second album I started hearing more, and it sunk in. While in junior high and a little into high school I still wrote a lot of whole songs, but I also wrote some song parodies. That's on "Weird Al".

You are more likely to know that I love karaoke, and if you have been there you have an idea of my ability, but Fall Out Boy has big songs and they bring out the best in me. From Under the Cork Tree was the album that helped the most, and I have sung every release from that album in front of somebody.

Albums that changed my identity
Ramones-Mania, Ramones, 1988
Indestructible, Rancid, 2003

I was always okay with the Ramones, but late in life I realized that I loved them, and not long after that I realized that I loved The Clash. The worst thing about that is it happened not long before Joey Ramone's death, and then in short order we lost DeeDee, Johnny, and Joe Strummer. That was terrible, wishing I hadn't waited so long and realizing the difficulties that punk bands faced in getting airplay so that even getting exposure was an issue. However, I still did not think of myself as a real punk aficionado; it was just a coincidence that I loved two key punk bands.

It was not a coincidence; Rancid showed me that. Gina is a punk rocker, and it actually makes sense. I'm never rowdy for the sake of being rowdy, but politeness that covers up evil is evil itself, DIY is a good ethic, and if you can use humor to deal with your anger, that can help a lot.

Also, Mormon is basically straight edge, but without the tattoos.

Albums that changed my world

Hunting High and Low, A-ha, 1985

Danger Days: True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, My Chemical Romance, 2010

We got MTV shortly after it started, so I had been into music videos for at least three years before "Take On Me". I had ones I liked better than others, but A-ha was the first time when it was a band, and I thought about wanting to see them (and did), and I bought songbooks and tried playing the songs and bought teen magazines for scraps of interviews and new pictures. It is still one of my favorite albums, and certainly the first one I memorized.

I had been really into music until my mission, and then when I came back there were fewer music videos being play, and it was mainly grunge and gangster rap. It felt like I didn't really have a place there anymore. Getting into punk helped, but that was older music, and the players were dying off. Then life got really tough, and I was in a deep and joyless rut.

Danger Days brought me back to life. It wasn't just that it gave me new music and a new band, but it helped me see that there were even more bands, and I didn't need a video channel to find them. It got me writing again, a lot, and Frank Iero came to me in a dream and got me a bass guitar, so I have tried playing again. Still terrible, but there are worse things.

Albums that changed how I listen to music
Fluke, Something She Said, 1991



Last Stop Crappy Town, Reggie and the Full Effect, 2008, expanded edition in 2020

Fluke was the first independent album I bought, though I was starting to get to know a lot of people in bands. I remember specifically talking to the singer after I'd listened. I mentioned that there were some recording issues that I assumed were a budget factor. They were not. He was a little irked, and I felt bad about that. He didn't hold a grudge, but it stayed with me because I started thinking about why you might want things to sound differently. I love melody, but sometimes it doesn't fit for what you need to convey. There are reasons for fuzz and static and sludge. I am more open to understanding artistic intentions and what is done deliberately because of John.

That still does not mean I get everything right on the first try. It has taken me a long time to understand Crappy Town.

https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2020/04/album-review-last-stop-crappytown.html

I reviewed this less than a month ago, so I don't necessarily want to write a lot about it now, but this album is incredibly rich. If a modern dance company wanted to explore addiction, I think this would be a great soundtrack.

It's almost too new to say that it's an influence. Just today after posting about it on Facebook I realized something new about it. So I think there is a personal influence, and that will be better understood over time, but for realizing how much can go into an album, and how well it can work and unfold, this is huge.

Influential albums and social media compliance

For the last nine days I have been posting albums that influenced me on Facebook. The original assignment was for ten, so I will finish tomorrow.

Usually social media posts like that want you to tag other people so they have to do it, which makes me uncomfortable, but where I really departed from this one is that you are not supposed to put any explanations about the album, but just the album itself.

I can't do that.

I know I should be able to, but I think about things too much. I don't get to have geeky conversations enough. Why do you think I blog?

I mean, I don't like the chain letter aspect of these posts - "Don't just like!" - anyway, but what really gets me are the limitations. So many of them are "Just one word!" or "Only post this picture; no explanation!" That is not in my personality.

However, in over-analyzing that, I realized it probably makes it easier for other people to participate. Not everyone has the time or inclination for dissertations. I can conceive that for many people it would be less pressure, though I do not respond to it in that way.

For this particular one, I think it would be easy to just give your favorite albums or the ones that meant a lot to you emotionally, or that are really strongly associated with certain ages. Those are all valid topics, but for me an influential album is one that changes something. With many albums important to me, the importance is not because they changed anything but because they fit in with where I was. Of course, sometimes with the influential ones, their influence hit the way it did because of where I was. There's a lot that goes into it.

Therefore, tomorrow I intend to round up the ten, with explanations of the influence, but today's post is about defining the terms, and also why I find it so necessary to do this.

I understand if I come off as neurotic. I'd be worse without the blog.

Messier than karma

All right; now for things coming back to me.

This is a much messier story.

The short version is that a girl that I had helped several years ago saw something I tweeted and she messaged me that I had helped her and she was there for me.

It gets longer because of many different factors.

One is that the reason I was tweeting is that when I had recently posted about my sadness and frustration on Facebook, I had set off a lot of alarms and had people checking on me in various ways to make sure I wasn't suicidal. It is good to be cared for, but it felt like a lot of pressure.

Twitter would normally feel safer for things like that anyway. There are fewer people who know me personally on there, and it is easier to not be noticed. However, because of that period where I was spending a lot of time encouraging and shoring up teenage girls, it makes me reluctant to be the voice of discouragement. Maybe it's good for people to see that we all struggle, but maybe it would be taken as "If she is this down, what hope is there?"

But I need to be able to feel sad and express it. As much as people don't like seeing problems they can't solve, that happens sometimes. I am going to be sad for as long as my mother is alive, and then I am going to be a different kind of sad. It's not the only thing I feel, and none of it is forever, but it's there.

So I called out into the void, and someone answered back, and she cared about me because I had cared about her. It came back.

The other tricky thing about it is that I have recently seen some concern expressed in an adjacent Twitter group about adults encouraging teens to open up to them, when kids are so vulnerable and and it is so easy to mess them up, even without bad intentions.

I see their point. I have seen plenty of arrogance and plenty of bad intentions. I totally agree that having local, in person sources of help is better when possible.

But also, I was trying to do what's right, and responding to intuition and circumstances, and it usually wasn't in private messages. It would be easy to be insecure about it. I was then. It was hard to believe that I could ever be enough against so much pain.

Except, of course, that I was not healing their pain; I was just witnessing it and caring about it. Sometimes there was advice, or links to articles, but mainly it was just a reminder that you are not alone, and not the only person who has these feelings.

Sometimes it made a difference, and at different times people have come back and told me it mattered. It is probably good that has been spaced out, because I may have needed that more now, but I am sure there were times when I needed it before.

About a week before that, another girl did message me, asking if she could vent. Of course she could, and a lot of her issues dealt with feeling guilt about needing to put some needs of her own over those of her difficult mother (though it was not dementia).

It landed close to home, but then neither of us are alone. We related to each other.

Twitter has been out a lot lately, I am sure because of more people with less to do. I am not on top of things, and that had been pretty true before the virus, just because of Mom needing more attention.

But every now and then I still notice something and have something to contribute: validation or encouragement or a link to an article or a cat picture. I have told enough stories about homeless people now that I understand if you are wondering if I go looking for them. I don't, but they have found me enough that I probably am more alert now, and sometimes that helps.

I believe that staying open to it, we can do a lot of good.

But often that good is mainly only caring. Lamed-vov, but if there are enough of us, it will be enough.

The most pessimistic encouragement

I am changing the order in which I am writing these. So the part about something coming back to me? Not before tomorrow.

I think it was the last author event I went to when this happened. It was respite time and too soon to go home, so I decided to walk from Powell's to the Safeway on Lovejoy.

When I got there, there was a guy out front with a sign. I asked if he wanted anything, and he wanted something hot. It was late enough at night that the deli had closed, and there wasn't much of a selection in their warm case. I explained that to him, but gave him some money so he could choose what he wanted. If it had ended there, I would barely have remembered that it happened.

I went to the streetcar stop across the street and waited. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard shouting. The guy was cursing at the security guard and demanding his name and saying he was going to sue. He did not get a name, and eventually he came to the streetcar stop too.

He said that the guard had threatened him with the taser. I guess he had gone in to buy something. Technically, I gave him the money to do that, that's on me. So he was just going to go to McDonald's, because that would probably be better anyway, but he was still really upset.

He also told me that earlier that day a woman had kicked him out of McDonald's saying that they don't serve his kind there.

Now, it is possible to have some skepticism about that story, because McDonald's serves homeless people all the time. I also know that all of the restaurants downtown have locked restrooms to keep homeless people out of them, and most restaurants reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and that people who don't have a lot of power can get pretty awful with what they have (like transit cops and store security guards).

We ended up riding the streetcar part of the way together, so we talked for a while. I will never forget the giant scabs on his hands. He had gotten an infection and they had to cut it open, but it was probably getting infected again because he had lost his antibiotics. Yes, that made me think of the story from the woman on the bus, and getting rushed off at the end of the line and not collecting all of her things in time. However, I had also recently read an article about HIV+ people in shelters, and how medication is often stolen because other residents hope it will get them high. Medical compliance is not easy on the streets.

This is the other thing that I will always remember, because I was so mad about it. I still am.

"I want to tell you something encouraging, like that everything's going to be okay..."
"But it wouldn't be true," he interrupted, accurately.
"So I'm just going to tell you that you're human, and that matters. And you have to remember it because other people won't."

It was probably the most pessimistic encouragement that I have ever offered.

I wanted to be able to tell him something better, but I couldn't. Maybe his response showed me why: he would not have been able to believe it.

It was clear that night that the world was terrible, but it has gotten a lot worse since then, and I did not see that coming.

The reasoning is still essentially the same: too many value money over people, and even those who would be better off under a more equal system take a lot of delight in the small superiority they can wring out of the current system.

When I worry about the homeless, that's why. I still think about both of them a lot, and I can't be optimistic.

Three encounters

I want to write a little about some interactions that I have had - mostly before social distancing started - and things that they have meant to me.

The first one started on the bus. I was waiting at Beaverton Transit Center and this woman got on.

She stumbled a little and she was muttering to herself. As she sat down in front of me there was a terrible smell of beer. It was easy to make certain assumptions.

I was not planning on having any interaction, but as she was talking to herself she mentioned losing five pairs of gloves. As it happens, I had an extra pair of gloves in my purse (preparedness girl, still), and I asked her if she would like them. She would, and that's how we started talking.

She had just been shopping, and had bought a five-pack of gloves. The bag with that and some food had been misplaced.

When you keep all of your possessions with you because you don't have anywhere else to put them, it would be hard to keep track of things; that's logical. I expressed sympathy, but then she explained that she sleeps on buses, and when they get to the last stop and hustle everyone off, that's when she loses things.

That made a lot of sense. $5.00 lets you on the transit system all day, and it is relatively warm. In some ways you might do better on the trains, but on the bus everyone has to get by the driver, and it is a smaller space. If people are looking for someone to harass, you are safer on a bus.

That is assuming that the harassment does not come from the transit staff. I have been noticing them getting a lot more authoritarian lately, and this was still before they changed the layout at Beaverton. You can no longer wait on the bus. Instead, everyone has to wait at the same spot until the bus is leaving. It is less convenient for people with homes, but I suspect it was aimed at the homeless.

I gave her a few dollars too, and she thanked me. She had given the last of her money and the rest of her breakfast to another person that day, but she was telling me that she believes that it comes back to you.

Right about then, someone got on with a pizza box. He sat near us and offered her some. As she was about to take it, the driver barked "NO EATING ON THE BUS!"

It is true that this is a rule, but it was like they had both been slapped. He pulled the box back and closed the lid, and her hand went back. Then he recovered and offered the box again, saying "You can take some but don't eat it on here."

She did, and thanked him, and then she looked back at me and said very pointedly, "It comes back to you!"

She then asked me if I knew where there was a laundromat, because she couldn't stand the smell of that blanket anymore. Maybe now that she had a few dollars and some food, then laundry was a possibility. I directed her to one that wasn't too far.

That was pretty much the end of it, except that I also suddenly realized how easy it would be in that situation to have someone else spill on your blanket, or throw up on it, or something where it isn't even your fault that it smells. You still can't just throw out the blanket, because it is still winter and who knows what you will lose next, or when you will be able to replace it.

It struck me hard then, but I have felt it more as I see that most places have shut down bottle returns, which is an important source of cash for many people. Also, a lot of places aren't taking cash anymore, or ordering food has to happen online and with the assumption of a car picking it up. Going through trash sounds terrible, but if you rely on it, it will have been a lot less productive for the past month.

Sure, there are shelters, but those have their own problems, in addition to being a great place to share diseases. Vancouver opened up a mall parking lot for people living in their cars, but if you don't have a car, that doesn't help. (Honestly, a lot of the people living in their cars still have jobs, a pretty big indictment of capitalism in itself, if you think about it.)

So I worry about people on the streets, along with a host of other worries, and primarily in the camp of worries that I can't really do anything about. It's just there.

But on another level, that story affects me because that woman was a kindred spirit, still believing in giving no matter how low her means were, and I love her for that.

When she told me "It comes back to you!", I felt that in my soul. It felt like a promise that things will work out, and an affirmation that what you do matters.

Next time I will write about one way in which that has been fulfilled.

Anodyne

One way my brain works is that a word or phrase will come to me repeatedly, trying to tell me something. Someday I will write about "garbage barge", but let's focus on "anodyne" for now.

As a noun it is a painkiller, but as an adjective it is more about being designed to not provoke or offend. I think of it when I play Spider Solitaire and Minesweeper, and I have been playing them a lot lately.

When I think about addictions, mine tend to be too stupid to count; I don't even play interesting video games. It can nonetheless be compulsive, and it has been very clear to me that this is an attempt to numb.

Things are hard. It is still true that it is more about the dementia situation than the virus situation, but the chronic stress is ongoing.

I have hives again. I get weird muscle tightness in my back and shoulders. There is a lot of anger and frustration, and I cannot turn it on my mother, so I hold it in and then get physical reminders that I did that.

I have plenty of things to do when I am not actively caring for my mother. I have things I need to do for personal goals and housework and organization, but I keep finding myself playing these stupid games, feeling the urge to, resolving not to and then giving in after another thing has gone wrong.

My brain is telling me that I am doing it to try not to feel. It's working out that great.

For one thing, the more I get pulled into it, the less I sleep. While there is a limit to how much the tiredness can be remedied, the tiredness is vast enough that it should take anything it can get. It also takes away from reading time, which is like the one thing I still get to do.

Probably more to the point is that it's not working out that great. I mean, I am still feeling stuff, and any feelings I hold off are probably just holding off progress in working through it. In the past, letting myself feel anger has allowed me to like myself. I am sure there is a lot I still need to work on.

I also know that I am not just rejecting the potential pain, but also the current situation. This has been very ineffective in making the situation go away. It's all still there. Maybe I could hold onto denial long enough for something to change, but I would lose something by doing that.

The other thing I strongly believe, though, is that my not wanting this does matter. Not in a way to change it, but that it hurts and that my body physically hurts with somatic symptoms of emotional pain... I matter and that matters.

I still need to work on getting better.

If I find something helpful I will let you know.

You matter too.

Where credit is due

Still keeping things short and light this week.

Easter was not typical. There was no church - and while it is not the best Sunday activity - what I desperately wanted and needed was all of the regular cleaning done. We divvied up the tasks and they were completed. It won't last, but at least things were caught up for once.

We did still have a mostly normal ham dinner, but oddly, the conversation ended up focusing largely on my time in high school. Specifically, wonderment at my being friends with two hot guys.

Personally, I had to ask who the second guy was. (I knew whom else she meant.) Suddenly, I realized at least one sister was impressed with my past social life. It was surprising and kind of gratifying.

Actually, I got on well with many good-looking guys, though hanging out was more limited. I do know the secret of my success, which was two-fold.

One, having come to believe at an early age that I was completely ineligible for love, I compartmentalized all romantic feelings and hints of interest in boys, understanding that such hints acted as a very strong boy repellent.

Frankly, I don't recommend that one.

But the other - and maybe the compartmentalization helped with this - is that I always remember that everyone is a person.

I think this is helpful when I meet musicians now. I may have a moment of being star-struck, but then I remember this is a person and relate in that way.

I can give you an example from high school. There was one guy on the football team, and another, less athletic guy I knew did not like him. I found myself teasing the jock subtly, because of that, and then I saw that he took it as flattery and was ingratiated. Suddenly, I was like, why am I teasing this nice guy whom I personally have nothing against? (And also who won't get it, yes, but there's no point in being mean about that.)

After that, we always got along. People who have known each other for years may have old grudges and things that have just become habits. It's real to them, but it may not be relevant to anyone else.

Anyway, that is my personal guarantee. I may be a fan of your work, or think you are irritating, or be wildly attracted to you, or desperately wish I could shake some sense into you (even though shaking isn't how that works), but I will also remember that you are human and have feelings, and I will try and honor that to the extent that you are not causing harm.

Even if you are causing harm, I will try to acknowledge harm that you have received and your potential for improvement, but the harm needs to be stopped first.  Just so we understand each other.

Also, yes, in some ways I was very popular in high school. They weren't any of the normal ways, but still, I am owning that.

Web of kindness

There are many ways in which people are horrible, and I am sure I will get to those. Today I wanted to focus on some helpful acts that have been going on around us.


An older couple was not supposed to be going to stores, but they needed some things, including toilet paper. My sisters went for them. When there was no toilet paper available they came back here and pulled some from our supply.

That's okay, we have a line on a new toilet paper shipment - because of someone else's help - and it looks like we're going to be able to get two multi-packs. We're not going over any limits, but at least finding something somewhere is great. (We aren't out yet, but if this goes on long enough...)

One friend has been busily making masks, starting with a batch of 200. She gave us some for our household. We were actually able to help her get some wipes, but most of this is not reciprocal. We have helped people who have done nothing for us, and the people helping us don't owe us anything. It is strictly based on who needs what and who can help. That's why I used "web" instead of circle.

Those are things that have actually been carried out, but there have also been a lot of offers. Many people have checked to see if we need anything. Apartment residents are leaving contact information for other residents. People are holding fundraisers.

I had posted on Facebook Saturday about not being reckless, because some news items and items through friends seemed like there was a wave of recklessness going around, leading to some poor decisions.

I get that. There are plenty of reasons to feel worried, isolated, and powerless right now. It can bring out some darker impulses.

If we can reach out to help each other, that can help us feel more connected, and remember that we still have some power. Not everything is out of control. Maybe knowing that can relieve some of the worry.

Don't give up, and stay as safe as you can.

UPDATED: Album Review: Last Stop Crappy Town, full edition, by Reggie and the Full Effect

On March 22nd, James Dewees of Reggie and the Full Effect released a complete version of the 2008 album, Last Stop: Crappy Town. It includes three tracks that were recorded then, but not released.

This seemed like a good opportunity to take another look at Crappy Town, which has not been my favorite.

The first time I listened, it felt like it was all this angry growl-shouting, which I shall hereafter refer to as "screamo" (probably not the perfect term, but bear with me), and which has never been my thing.

Later, I listened again, and realized it was in fact more complex than that. I suspect one reason it feels like so much is that a lot of the songs have a screamo section, even though they have other things. So where with other albums there will be a song or two that does it, there is probably more total time spent on the screamo, as well as a higher frequency interval.

Having already gained a greater appreciation for the album, the next time I listened I found myself thinking, "This is really a journey." That was quickly followed by, "You mean like a journey on the Brooklyn train system, literally? Good catch!"

The release of the additional tracks seemed like a good opportunity to dive in again.

Here's one thing about that journey: tracks are not delineated in the download. Having listened to the original release, I can tell where the familiar tracks are, and where new things have been inserted, but there is no guide while you are listening.

It is interesting in that on many other Reggie albums (less true with 41), the connection between songs and their titles is often tenuous. Maybe at a concert you learn the origin of a title phrase, but without the context of why it goes with that song. You still remember - maybe with more effort than from some artists - what each song is called.

That is much harder on Crappy Town.

It also makes sense. The train journey is linear, and probably monotonous. There may be monotony on the recovery journey, but it is much more chaotic. Maybe it is hard to tell if the changes that you feel are even changes, and whether those changes are progress. The music reflects that.

There are concepts that come up over and over again, including betrayal and inadequacy and doubt and suffocation. Sometimes that comes out angrily (probably with the greatest frequency), but it also comes out in dread, or adrenaline, or a depression so overpowering that the words can barely come out.

Is there a pattern? I don't know. I have never been through rehab or ridden New York transit, and I cannot rule out that there is greater - or at least different meaning -  for people who have.

It did make me think of two things, coming from my more recent psychology reading. One is that while people tend to oversimplify and define overly broadly Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's theory of the five stages of grief, it is not linear. Going through one stage doesn't guarantee that you are done with it, or that it is done with you.

Also, in Complex PTSD, Pete Walker referenced a theory that all addiction is rooted in abandonment. That feels like it could be an oversimplification too, but it really feels like there is truth in it.

"9th and 4th" comes between "F" and "E". I think it is the one that fits in best with the other tracks, like I don't understand why it wasn't released. It is quieter, but thematically, it is important with a plea for help that is barely a question. There is not trust in getting an answer.


It is interesting that the official release with a video, "J", is sandwiched between the other two deleted cuts.

The final addition. "86th", is great. It has kind of an "Eleanor Rigby" feel, with lots of strings and wistfulness in its alienation.

The new track before "J", "14th", is really uncomfortable.

I haven't been able to identify exactly why. It grapples with faith and questions of meaning; I guess I like to see those questions receive a positive answer. This feels again like there is not hope for any answer, and what does it mean if there is no meaning or greater value to all of it? It must feel like that a lot.

I want to point out one more thing about structure, using the more familiar tracks.

"R" is musically one of my favorite tracks, taking on a heroic, adventurous feel. Lyrically, in the midst of those assurances that we can make it together, there is always an "if" that doesn't sound too hopeful. What are the chances of no mistakes, given all the mistakes that have come before?

So I think it makes a lot of sense that it is followed by "36th Street" where you are still trying to save children and addressing a "sister", but there is a much more oppressive tone. That then goes into "N", and the closing question, "Are you scared?"

So it is clearly a journey, but it's not concluded, or even certain of successful completion. That is honest for addiction. You have to hope that it often feels more possible, and more optimistic, but it doesn't always.

That makes this a good release for this time.

I don't know how much that influenced Dewees to release it now, but this is a time filled with fear and doubt and uncertain outcomes. It helps to have music that knows how you feel.

In the Instagram post he credits producer Sean Beavan, drummer Billy Johnson, and Slipknot bass player Paul Gray. Two of them are gone now, along with other losses that make that sense of abandonment more real.

There is music for that.

Stay safe and stay alive.

https://www.instagram.com/yourbuddyreggie/

https://www.instagram.com/p/B-DQErnFrRm/

UPDATED:
After the last Instagram update I have had a really hard time scrolling with it, but I got it to work yesterday, and low and behold that original post gave the new track titles, even though they should all be regarded as a whole, and there are reasons why that makes sense. I have updated the original post to include titles, which I hope is helpful.

Otherwise, let me just note my appreciation for my own journey of coming to appreciate and understand Last Stop: Crappy Town better. Songs Not to Get Married to (which Crappy Town echoes a lot, and that makes sense) infatuated me, and No Country For Old Musicians delighted me, and 41 makes me feel seen in a bad time that still hasn't ended.

Crappy Town cracks open pain. It's hard, but it's necessary. Once I was able to scroll down I saw many people expressing how the album helped them, or how they appreciated it more now after going through their own things. Of course. I get it.

And I already knew this, but it is still worth saying, even though Reggie gives you that veneer of silliness, there is always more.

Album Review: Last Stop Crappy Town, full edition, by Reggie and the Full Effect

On March 22nd, James Dewees of Reggie and the Full Effect released a complete version of the 2008 album, Last Stop: Crappy Town. It includes three tracks that were recorded then, but not released.

This seemed like a good opportunity to take another look at Crappy Town, which has not been my favorite.

The first time I listened, it felt like it was all this angry growl-shouting, which I shall hereafter refer to as "screamo" (probably not the perfect term, but bear with me), and which has never been my thing.

Later, I listened again, and realized it was in fact more complex than that. I suspect one reason it feels like so much is that a lot of the songs have a screamo section, even though they have other things. So where with other albums there will be a song or two that does it, there is probably more total time spent on the screamo, as well as a higher frequency interval.

Having already gained a greater appreciation for the album, the next time I listened I found myself thinking, "This is really a journey." That was quickly followed by, "You mean like a journey on the Brooklyn train system, literally? Good catch!"

The release of the additional tracks seemed like a good opportunity to dive in again.

Here's one thing about that journey: tracks are not delineated in the download. I can tell you where the additional tracks are, but not what they are named. I assume the unreleased "86th Street" is there; I can confirm the B-side "Shit Sandwich" is not there.

It is interesting in that on many other Reggie albums (less true with 41), the connection between songs and their titles is often tenuous. Maybe at a concert you learn the origin of a title phrase, but without the context of why it goes with that song. You still remember - maybe with more effort than from some artists - what each song is called.

That is much harder on Crappy Town.

It also makes sense. The train journey is linear, and probably monotonous. There may be monotony on the recovery journey, but it is much more chaotic. Maybe it is hard to tell if the changes that you feel are even changes, and whether those changes are progress. The music reflects that.

There are concepts that come up over and over again, including betrayal and inadequacy and doubt and suffocation. Sometimes that comes out angrily (probably with the greatest frequency), but it also comes out in dread, or adrenaline, or a depression so overpowering that the words can barely come out.

Is there a pattern? I don't know. I have never been through rehab or ridden New York transit, and I cannot rule out that there is greater - or at least different meaning -  for people who have.

It did make me think of two things, coming from my more recent psychology reading. One is that while people tend to oversimplify and define overly broadly Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's theory of the five stages of grief, it is not linear. Going through one stage doesn't guarantee that you are done with it, or that it is done with you.

Also, in Complex PTSD, Pete Walker referenced a theory that all addiction is rooted in abandonment. That feels like it could be an oversimplification too, but it really feels like there is truth in it.

New tracks occur between "F" and "E". I think it is the one that fits in best with the other tracks, like I don't understand why it wasn't released. It is quieter, but thematically, it is important with a plea for help that is barely a question. There is not trust in getting an answer.


It is interesting that the official release with a video, "J", is sandwiched between the other two deleted cuts.

The final addition is great. It has kind of an "Eleanor Rigby" feel, with lots of strings and wistfulness in its alienation.

What comes before "J" is really uncomfortable.

I haven't been able to identify exactly why. It grapples with faith and questions of meaning; I guess I like to see those questions receive a positive answer. This feels again like there is not hope for any answer, and what does it mean if there is no meaning or greater value to all of it? It must feel like that a lot.

I want to point out one more thing about structure, using the more familiar tracks.

"R" is musically one of my favorite tracks, taking on a heroic, adventurous feel. Lyrically, in the midst of those assurances that we can make it together, there is always an "if" that doesn't sound too hopeful. What are the chances of no mistakes, given all the mistakes that have come before?

So I think it makes a lot of sense that it is followed by "36th Street" where you are still trying to save children and addressing a "sister", but there is a much more oppressive tone. That then goes into "N", and the closing question, "Are you scared?"

So it is clearly a journey, but it's not concluded, or even certain of successful completion. That is honest for addiction. You have to hope that it often feels more possible, and more optimistic, but it doesn't always.

That makes this a good release for this time.

I don't know how much that influenced Dewees to release it now, but this is a time filled with fear and doubt and uncertain outcomes. It helps to have music that knows how you feel.

In the Instagram post he credits producer Sean Beavan, drummer Billy Johnson, and Slipknot bass player Paul Gray. Two of them are gone now, along with other losses that make that sense of abandonment more real.

There is music for that.

Stay safe and stay alive.

https://www.instagram.com/yourbuddyreggie/

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