writing sample: liner notes to 'Depresso' [a mix CD]

Depresso: Track Notes for a mix CD
©2009 Erik Rader. All rights reserved.

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Starting in 2005 and continuing intermittently through 2009, during a time in which I struggled against the dissolution of my hopes and dreams, my career, and my mind, I became obsessed with the idea of compiling a mix CD of the most depressing popular songs ever recorded. I realized that such a thematic compilation could never be perfectly realized, being that one person's depressing headphone trip might be someone else's first dance; and I found that no matter how complete and perfectly arranged the mix seemed at any given time, reviewing it the next day would inevitably be a disappointment.

The dodge, which I must say in all modesty was a brilliant one, was to arrange the songs in chronological order, beginning with the earliest composition I could think of, and ending with the most recent. With that simple structure in place, filling in the blanks was a cinch. I knew I was home free, after months of sleepless nights, when I listened to the transitions and found myself laughing hysterically. Inappropriate emotional responses are, I'm told, a symptom of depression, but for me it was a sign of catharsis.

These, then, are the liner notes to Depresso. If you'd like me to burn you a copy, shoot me an email. I'm warning you, though - clocking in at about three hours, this mix is an immersive experience that is not recommended for the faint of heart. And if you suddenly find yourself laughing hysterically, you might want to call 911.


Chopin: Prelude in E Minor op. 28 no. 4
Simply put, the sound of the most nobly gifted and brilliant musical mind of his century, dying of consumption.

Hank Williams: Alone And Forsaken
Hank Williams, better known for his folksy hillbilly pop tunes such as “Jambalaya” and “My Bucket’s Got A Hole In It”, holds forth on the subject nearer and dearer to his heart: A miserable drunkard dies alone, abandoned by his God. Like many artists on this compilation, Hank Williams’ canon could largely be seen as an extended prophecy of his own death, or one long suicide note.

Billie Holliday: My Man
Possibly in the top 5 most depressing songs gathered here, this is Billie’s classic blues about a lethally codependent relationship. Morgues across America are filled every day with women who might have spoken these words.

The Beach Boys: I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times
Few lyrics capture the despondency of the misunderstood musical genius/acid casualty better than these, with the possible exception of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”, which wasn’t even written by its subject. While LSD overdose is not a universally held experience, it is perhaps the ultimate distillation of something more widely shared - the disintegration of a human being.

The Doors: End Of The Night
Quoting William Blake: “Some are born to sweet delight/Some are born to endless night.” Hmm, wonder which one Jim was. Like a Viking warrior of old, he went into battle as if already slain. In Bobby Krieger’s heavy reverb, one can hear the lapping of the wavelets on the bathwater in Jim’s own personal staging of the death of Marat.

The Velvet Underground: Venus In Furs
It may be reasonable to consider this track inappropriate for “Depresso”, as it’s actually quite positive – a celebration of what alternative lifestyle types like to call “different loving”. But it certainly sets a mood, doesn’t it?

Otis Redding: (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay
Sheer existential panic. One actually imagines Otis sitting on the dock of the bay like Nietzsche perched on his eagle's nest observing the folly of western civilization with contempt, or Sartre unable to touch the knob of his front door for sheer nausea. Doppio depresso!

The Beatles: I Want You (She’s So Heavy)
Contrary to their commonly perceived image as cheerful purveyors of frolicsome love songs, the Beatles probably single-handedly composed the largest canon of pop songs about death, tragedy, murder, mayhem and suicide of any 20th century group. On this track, we hear the simplistic and repetitive lyrics of a mind locked in sexual obsession and compulsion, followed by what can only be described as the sound of a man’s life swirling down the drain.

Black Sabbath: Black Sabbath
Ozzy recounts his first meeting with the A & R scout from a major record label - possibly the same one that signed Robert Johnson.

The Carpenters: Superstar
Originally penned by Bette Midler, this song is also included in my mix entitled The Slow Death of Karen Carpenter. Karen’s misty high notes and vibrating contraltos, her languorous phrasing and agonizing sustains telegraph a painful and early death to anyone familiar with the physicality of vocal emoting; the subject matter - the pathetic pleas for love by a groupie addressed to an indifferent musician - is interesting to hear coming from a true superstar who clearly never internalized that experience enough to save her own life.

Joni Mitchell: Blue
“Acid, booze, and ass/ Needles, guns, and grass/Lots of laughs, lots of laughs”...this could be the soundtrack to the disillusionment of the 60’s generation. On par with Neil Young’s “The Needle And The Damage Done”, Mitchell’s track wins out because on Young’s you get the feeling that he’s learned his lesson; Mitchell on the other hand, brilliant storyteller that she is, leaves the ending up to the imagination, and offers no moral to the story.


The Who: Behind Blue Eyes
How many high school Heshers bit a bullet to this song, I wonder? I can think of at least one I knew personally. Statistical analysis would doubtlessly show this track to be far more lethal than Ozzy’s “Suicide Solution”, but the Who evaded a witch hunt over this song simply because it is couched in the usual poetic evasiveness that only a suffering adolescent would understand.

Nick Drake: Things Behind The Sun
The scary thing about this track is, it’s probably not Nick’s most depressing song. Rather nonchalantly he tosses off the statement that there are “things behind the sun”, like a folk H. P. Lovecraft. “What?? WTF do you mean?? WHAT things???” I could have included “Black Eyed Dog”, but I had to pull back somewhere - I don’t want to get a call from the police at a suicide scene asking me why the victim was listening to this CD before they slashed their wrists.

Roxy Music: A Song For Europe
Bryan Ferry is the veritable (and venerable) Barista of Depresso. The only reason “In Every Dream Home A Heartache” did not make the cut is because in combination with “Venus In Furs” I would have had to title this mix “Creepiest Songs Ever Written”. That mix is, by the way, in the works and will be available shortly.

Big Star: Holocaust
Delicious! Not just a song about a girl blaming herself for her mother’s death, it’s also the sound of a band falling apart rancorously! Two for the price of one.

Brian Eno: Sombre Reptiles
From the master of atmosphere, expressing so simply what others need volumes to say.

David Bowie: Sense Of Doubt
The master of atmosphere meets the 20th Century’s Dorian Grey. Yep, that’s pretty much what a sense of doubt would sound like.

Patti Smith: Easter
Patti Smith has embraced spiritual ambiguity more artfully than any other poet of her generation. Few like she could so ably describe the horrors of religion while still celebrating it, short of Diamanda Galas. I should have included a Diamanda Galas song on this mix! Oh well, now you see why this process is never-ending.

Joy Division: New Dawn Fades
“Directionless so plain to see/A loaded gun won’t set you free/So you say...” In those last 3 words, Ian Curtis sets himself as Jesus before Pontius Pilate. Out of a catalog of appropriately depressing songs, this one comes the closest to an actual cry for help.

Talking Heads: Heaven
Depressing because its essential message is, “Most people lack the imagination to even conceive of happiness, so they compromise by avoiding any new experience at all.”

Wire: A Touching Display
Like my musician friends and I used to joke by shouting out: “Bass solo!!!”

As with most of Wire’s work, generous use of irony and double entendre clearly mark this as the work of Art School students. And as we all know, nobody knows depresso like Art School students.

AC/DC: Hell’s Bells

At least Joy Division had the grace to break up and reform under a new name when their lead singer kacked. This song seems to say “So our lead singer died - that’s rock and roll, baby. If you want a safer business, go back to your day job.” Brrrr!

The Cure: Faith
I don’t know...this could be it. As in, No. 1. I almost included “Cold” from Pornography, except that song is so over the top it’s ridiculous - I mean, cello? Then again...well, like I said, it’s a never-ending process.

T.S.O.L.: Beneath The Shadows
These guys were so far ahead of their time.

Hüsker Dü: Too Far Down
This song is so personal, so naked, it’s almost embarrassing. This is a song from inside the closet, a topic which probably deserves its own mix CD.

Robyn Hitchcock: St. Petersburg
One never knows whether Robyn is kidding or not; least of all on this track. Like a true artist he uses his unparalleled knack for hyperbole to his advantage here. Plus, nobody else could get away with rhyming “knife” and “wife”.

This Mortal Coil: I Want To Live
The entire 4AD Records catalog notwithstanding, I chose this above all the others because they come right out and say it.

Angelo Badalamenti: Laura Palmer’s Theme
The beautiful dead girl floats down the stream like the Lady of Shalott. Who killed Laura Palmer? The Devil in a Rolling Stones song might say, “After all, it was you and me”.

American Music Club: What The Pillar of Salt Held Up
Manchester had Ian Curtis; San Francisco has Mark Eitzel. How he’s still alive I’ll never know.

Metallica: The Unforgiven
It is my theory that this is the album that opened suburban kids’ ears up to the music of a certain suicidally depressed kid from Aberdeen, WA, and the whole big mess that followed...

Nirvana: Something In The Way
What do you do when you figure out that the thing that is in the way is you?

Kristin Hersh: Your Ghost
You think Karen Carpenter’s voice is beat? Try Kristen Hersh’s. Kim Carnes, Stevie Nicks, Lotta Lenya...none of them hold a candle to her. The addition of Mike Stipe on backups is just the icing on this depresso-flavored cake. Cello, dreams about dead people, a big bass drum, Mike Stipe on backup vocals...a recipe for despair.

Aimee Mann: Par For The Course
Resoundingly bleak. Are there any publicly available photographs of Aimee Mann smiling?

Girls Against Boys: Zodiac Love Team
Perverse purveyors of post-hardcore GVSB deal out yet another song about heroin addiction. This could be the soundtrack for the television show “Intervention”.

Therapy?: A Moment Of Clarity
Listening to these heavy-handed lyrics, this gigantic production, you’d think these guys were joking. I’ve seen them live; the other guys might be joking, but I think the lead singer is serious. He looks like he’s never been outdoors in his life.

Moby: Now I Let It Go
I think they misspelled Moby’s name - I think it’s actually supposed to be Mopy. Somebody buy that man a cheeseburger.

R.E.M.: Leave
Speaking of cries for help - when the song features a guitar feedback loop through a digital reverb unit that sounds like an ambulance siren.....

Soundgarden: Tighter And Tighter
It was a toss-up between this and Zep’s “Tea For One”. This one wins out because, well – who do YOU think wins in an all-out depresso deathmatch between Percy and Chris? Percy was the Golden God; Chris, on the other hand, lives a bit further south.

Elliot Smith: No Name No. 5
The man stabbed himself in the heart through his chest. You know how hard that is? You have to penetrate the bone of the sternum. Most people aren’t that strong. You’d have to really, really hate someone to be able to stab them that hard.

Radiohead: Exit Music (For A Film)
It’s kind of like “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” if the drug of choice was Night Train instead of LSD.

Thom Yorke is a new breed of depresso singer, in that he maps the territory and sings his way out of it. The guy probably has a therapist and everything. I’m not worried about him at all.

Modest Mouse: The Cold Part
Now, Isaac Brock, on the other hand…

What do you think – Aberdeen or Issaquah? Which is more depressing?

Gillian Welch: April The 14th (Part 1)
It’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.

Beck: Already Dead
Beck, who also wrote “I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me”. What many people don’t know about Beck is that he started out as a straight blues musician, then just got curious about other styles, and took off on a few tangents. So this one is actually quite old school for him.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: Suddenly
Kids these days, with their noise they call “music”! Why, when I was their age, we were rubbing our chests with broken glass and peanut butter…

Cat Power: Evolution
Some singers you wait for to implode during the course of their career. With Chan Marshall you wait for her to implode during the course of a live set, or halfway through a song. (Actually I hear she’s much better now. Maybe she’s taking the crazy pills, or found Jesus or something.)

Staying current

Blogging, they say, is a harsh mistress. I've been informally (okay - read that as "in cowardly anonymity") blogging for most of this decade, and reading blogs voraciously during that time. What I have found is that blogging is not a hobby, nor a pastime, nor a sideline. If you're going to do it and do it to the hilt, it's a full-time job. It's the pinnacle of self-employment as a writer: You must set your own schedule, manage your time, and PRODUCE, PRODUCE, PRODUCE. The ultimate test of a blog is timeliness and prolificity. So what happens to even the best of us who aren't hunkered in a bunker, blogging our fingers to the bone? What happens is that after days of real-world networking, scouting out fresh opportunities, working on various projects paid and unpaid, and oh yes - taking care of our homes and families, we come back to our blog to find that we haven't updated it in a week...two weeks...a month...or more.

Did I mention that I have a vegetable patch in my backyard? Did I also mention that it is currently a wasteland barren as the moon? And before that, a trackless jungle of invasive and poisonous plant species?

This is a prime example of the two direst imperatives of blogging: UPDATES and EDITING. It is necessary that you blog about what you read, heard, saw, thought, felt, and did TODAY, and create linkages, and at the very same time, spare your readers your stream-of-consciousness unschooled and undisciplined rants.

UPDATE and EDIT. These things require a time and energy commitment. The easiest way to do this is to have "blogging time" scheduled in your calendar - first thing upon waking for example, or exactly at noon, or immediately after the dinner dishes have been washed. Otherwise you are in danger of leaving it on the "when I get around to it" pile with the rotting laundry and unspeakable vegetable crisper.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to put on my elbow-length gloves and head into the kitchen. If I don't report back within the hour, please send in a rescue team.

Some random thoughts on writing for the web

For creative writers like me who are old enough to remember manual typewriters, positioning oneself as a "creator of web content" can be a somewhat daunting task. Especially those of us who didn't get a degree in Journalism and who don't keep an APA style manual on their nightstand [not that it isn't somewhere on my shelf!] might find what we are asked to do a little nebulous. "Snappy! Friendly! Tech-savvy!" Except for that last part, it sounds pretty much like standard advertising copy. [note: if that last link doesn't creep you out, then you're not a professional writer.]

Meanwhile, I surf the web every day [sometimes I miss those days of hanging out at the public library, but the coffee's better at my house] and I keep coming across sentences [or the fragments thereof] that make me groan. While snappy is good, language pared down to the point of being little more than a thin layer of buzzwords is not something that enhances communication.

I'm on Facebook just like you are - come on, no sense in denying it - and do you know what I've noticed? Every day, i read the complaints of users who are saying [1] the interface gets in the way of their easily finding out things or telling about things; and [2] they're "dumbing themselves down" in terms of language. Is this an inescapable side effect of the medium? I don't think so. The "Notes" area that's linked to on every Facebook page, for example, is a rich and mostly unexplored opportunity to get back to something pretty close to what you and I might recognize as blogging - I know, it seems so old-school now.

As for Twitter, it certainly is very Zen, very editorial, and very good for one's character - like a literary bran muffin or dish of broccoli, if you will - to be forced to condense one's thoughts down to what can be expressed in 140 characters or less. One of the many hats I wear is the rock trivia fanatic, and sometimes the impulse comes over me to "Tweet" a brief song lyric pertinent to the way I'm feeling in that moment, to see if any of my followers will respond with the next line. And for creative writers, anything that helps to stir the pot is worth keeping around. Not to mention the fact that using Twitter has greatly reduced my need to carry countless little scraps of paper in my pockets.

I guess what it all boils down to is this: Use the tools, but don't let them use you. When I was in college, I typed when I was sitting at my typewriter, I scribbled in my diary when I was away from my dorm room, I doodled in the margins of my class notes; my walls were covered with drawings and paintings, and everything I drew and painted contained some text. I also wrote letters both on my typewriter and longhand whenever I could. This helped me flex my creative muscles as well as keeping my friends and family up to date as to how I was doing. Similarly, online social media are great for networking or just keeping in touch with your friends, sharing an in-joke or a crazy candid snapshot - but they're also useful for keeping in touch with yourself and your own process. In the next few weeks, I'm going to be spending a lot of hours consolidating and editing things I've blogged under various fake names since, oh, about 2000. I'll probably be discarding a lot of commentary around links that have gone dead, but there are some rants out there that could be very entertaining, maybe not too incriminating, and most definitely would never have come into existence without the provocation inherent in this medium.