Sitting here, in Hermiston, OR, contemplating whether I feel motivated to write a new song, I’ve decided to flip channels; a favorite hobby of mine. Sometimes, having Asperger’s, I paralyze myself with too many thoughts, too many ideas, too many things I’d like to do, just too many words, honestly, that all I can do is watch TV. TV is the only way to turn my brain off. I like to mindlessly scour the stations for something interesting, or at least, less “less interesting” than what’s on the previous channel. What I’ve found tonight is… Cornhole Championships live from Jacksonville, FL (which seems like an oddly appropriate place for this…). Yep, we live in a country where people can make a living (God bless ‘em for this) throwing beanbags at a board with a hole in it some 30 feet away or whatever it is. The strange thing is, it was fucking captivating. I’ve been watching for the past hour and I’m sad it’s almost over. I can’t explain it other than it’s a quick, simple game that reminds me of growing up in Wisconsin. I know they play it everywhere but I grew up in Wisconsin so fuck it, that’s what it reminds me of. I even have a mini cornhole game at my apartment for when I feel bored/overwhelmed/anxious, like I do right now. I hate feeling like I’m simultaneously doing too much and not enough. I can’t explain it. Most small business owners (yes, being a musician is a business) would probably be able to commiserate. But, I often think myself into a self-deprecating, depressed, manic, walking-dead-like state and I don’t know how to stop. I’ve begun to realize when I’m doing it but I haven’t found the right answer to “un-stuck” myself. I’ve been able to recognize and modify my behavior with other Aspergersy things like: talking incessantly/saying the same things over and over about the same things (usually something I hate/love, like the state of the music industry and Open Mike Eagle), getting panicked by large crowds of people (unless they’re around because of me), not being able to do the same things the same way (like trying to shop at a new grocery store and setting down my basket and walking out since it’s hard to find the same 12 items I always buy), having a difficult time looking someone in the eye while I talk with them, etc. But this self-overwhelm is not an easy thing to overcome. Yes, therapy would help but I want to find someone I can work with for years to come and so I’ll wait for now, as I won’t live in Portland for too much longer. It was hard to even get on here and write this. Well, never mind, the cornhole championship tournament thing is done. A couple white guys beat a couple other white guys and four white guys beat four other white guys for the two and four person finals respectively. Oddly, they where earbuds the whole time. Seems like I’d rather play off the crowd than concentrate on a drunken pre-football game, but, then again, I’m a musician and I love the crowds. The energy warms my soul and feeds my delusions of being more important than I probably am. But, then again, I’ve had people tell me how much my music has affected their lives so maybe I have served a larger purpose and I’m grateful/honored to fill that role. Music has given me so much (read: everything) so I’m so excited to give back whatever I can to world, in regards to music and understanding of our own lives. It’s the highest compliment I can ever receive and I will always be overwhelmed by hearing it. It makes me want to write even more songs, write more personal songs, expand the sounds I use to record to reach new audiences, write “poppier” songs to make them more accessible to those who may not love my style of music but not sacrifice quality of storytelling, spend all my money making more AMAZING MUSIC VIDEOS to maximize appeal to the casual music fans who could use some more substantial music than what they’ll get on the radio or listening to the same things over and over on Spotify; and then I feel like I need to do even more things and what’s on ESPN2 now??? Oh, college gymnastics tournament. I’ll take it. The same way I cannot figure out how Jeff Buckley sings so heavenly, I cannot figure out how these girls defy gravity and the limitations of the human body to accomplish incredible things. I feel as though I’ve defied my own human body to create things I shouldn’t be able to with music/sound as I was given zero musical talent/human insight to begin this career with. Not sure my mental anguish compares to their physical but it’s probably close.. But that’s more than likely due to self-inflicted wounds. Who knows? But I don’t like thinking of these things… I think I’ll see if I can get enough wifi in the hotel to watch a few “Corner Gas” episodes so I can fall asleep…

(dictated but not read)

yep, this is a real thing on ESPN with announcers and everything. yep...

is it the 90's or am I just drunk and flipping through youtube... aka... yes drunk youtube is the best...

Wanna go down a youtube rabbit hole with me? Too late… seems like there are better things to do besides watch:

“Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s live on Countdown

“One Week” by Barenaked Ladies (canadiens have an immaculate sense of humor)

seems like a 90’s night: “Gimme Some More” by Busta Rhymes

(that shit was so fucking amazing to experience for the first time and is pretty much just as amazing to experience like fucking 20 years later…)

“Hard to Explain” by the Strokes (what the fuck? Us kids didn’t know Television so this is the most amazing thing we had heard like this)

speaking of that shit: “Marquee Moon” by Television

speaking of bands influenced by Television: “You Only Get What You Give” by the New Radicals

the 90’s brought me to this, one of my favorites: “Virtual Insanity” by Jamiroquai

and this: “Weapon of Choice” by Fatboy Slim

and this: “Protect Ya Neck” by Wu-Tang

by the way, “The 36th Chamber of Shaolin” is amazing. It’s on Netflix, just sayin…

this is also from my childhood: “Jump” by Kris Kross

man, I miss Starter Jackets…

and with that same sample from “Paul’s Boutique,” “I Missed the Bus” by Kris Kross

and we go to a random scottish girl I have a mad crush on: “The Mother We Share” by Chvrches

“We Sink” by Chvrches at the Doug Fir in Portland, OR (I love playing the Doug Fir but fuck Portland)

“Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio

When was the last time you watched “Dangerous Minds?” It’s fucking awesome. Michelle Pfeiffer is so gorgeous and talented, I could watch it over and over…

Speaking of the 90’s, remember the Offspring: “Pretty Fly for a White Guy”

Oh yeah, the Offspring used to be pretty good: “Self-Esteem”

I only knew my biological father til I was 6 years old (and vaguely remember the physical/emotional abuse he put upon me, my mom and sister) so this song always hit me right in the fucking solar plexus: “Father of Mine” by Everclear (another Portland band) but I never heard from my father for the rest of my life (supposedly, he’s still alive in Phoenix. So Fuck Phoenix)

This autoplayed after the last song, so here you go: “Flagpole Sitta” by Harvey Danger

How many bourbons are recommended for a Monday night? 5? Sounds right.

Here’s the final song for tonight: “You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon

Not sure how this popped up on my list but fuck yeah, the best music video ever… Now, I’m happy. That doesn’t happen often so I fucking love this…

(dictated but not read)

As I sit here, trying to decide if I like Buffalo Trace bourbon and where it might fit in my family of bourbons (topped by Blanton’s, Buffalo Trace’s older, rye-ier brother), I realize that I cannot stop watching “Corner Gas;” that quirky, Canadian “Friends”-like show, except all the characters kind of hate-love each other. Brent’s mom is easily the worst character in the show, making her husband, Oscar, seem palatable by nature. Besides Brent, the main character, my favorite character is Hank, the dumb sidekick. He rarely is mean, cruel, sarcastic, vengeful, plotting or any of the other adjectives that describe literally everyone else. Anyways, maybe I do like Buffalo Trace as didn’t I already recommend “Corner Gas” on Amazon Prime? And when you’re finished with its 6 season, watch “Spaced.” My god, what an amazing show from the guys who did “Shaun of the Dead” (watch for some callbacks in “Shaun”), one of my favorite movies and my personal inspiration for my zombie character in the music video for “Let’s Go Out Tonight” along with “Thriller,” obviously. Wait, what am I talking about?

The past few weeks have been very trying for ‘ol Bradley Wik. I’m not sure what the root cause is but I’m sure it’s some degree of being back home in Portland, OR more the past month or the lack of motivation I’ve had to write/record new shit. It’s hard to describe what depression feels like but I’d say it feels sort of like be hungover everyday, with slightly less headaches. The malaise, the feeling of worthlessness, the stomach aches, the self-critique of being a lazy piece of shit, the counting down of hours until you can effectively put on your PJ’s, grab a glass of bourbon, lay in bed and watch reruns of “Whose Line is it Anyway?” until midnight then switching to BET for reruns of “Martin” until you pass out from exhaustion/booze. I always wonder how much should be attributed to the Asperger’s, how much to just plain ‘ol depression or how much to the lack of sleep/booze (Kanye advocated for the latter) over the years. Sound fun, right?

In good news, as I mentioned previously, I have my typewriter back in working order. It’s a Royal Quiet De Luxe (in case you give a shit about such things). It gives me such joy to peck away as I work through my backlog of songs that aren’t typed out yet. It’s been amazing to go back and read some of the lyrics from my folk songs. They’re equally entertaining and ridiculous and semi-autobiographical, somehow. I posted some a couple weeks ago, check it out HERE. I love to sit with a glass of bourbon (and sometimes a cigarette) and clack those keys. It’s a weirdly satisfying experience and a fun way to wallow in nostalgia.

Excuse the shitty quality (it’s not mine) but I couldn’t find a better clip of ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS EVER ON FAMILY GUY.

As far as music goes this week, I’ve been combing back through old Spotify playlists and here are the highlights:

“No Country” - The Jezabels

I’m not sure what to say other than this song get’s me misty eyed every time I put it on. The guitar flourishes sound like something I would write 99 times out of 100. I love trills and repeating lines. God bless Asperger’s, it makes music like math; which I also love.

“Antabus” - Makthaverskan

I think I spelled that right, jesus. Pure fun, and sadness. Incredible. “Fuck You. Fuck You.”

“We are what you say” - Dead Sara

Jesus fuck, what a fucking tune. Got to see Dead Sara not too long ago and motherfucker what a show. Incredible. I was fucking entertained from minute one until the high fives as she ran through the crowd at the end. Just fuck yeah.

“Cost of the Cold” - Joan Shelley

Fuck me sideways. Few people can pull off what Joan does on this song. I feel like I’m living in a different world while I listen to this. That’s the biggest compliment I can give. If a song can create an entire world where I can reside, without connection to my own reality for four minutes and not even realize that I’ve left. I hate coming back…

“Teeth” - Lisa Hannigan

There was a time (maybe I still do now upon revisiting) in which I led the coalition of those who found Lisa Hannigan to be the most attractive woman on the planet due to her combination of talent and beauty. This is such a Damien Rice-like tune that I can’t help but weep when I listen to it. I could listen to Lisa sing all day, every day; and look at her much the same. There’s a delicate pain and reactive anger in this tune I can’t get enough of. Not sure why I like that kind of thing, but boy, do I.

“Irene” - Courtney Marie Andrews

This song once saved my life. True story. I was driving back to Portland, OR from Boise, ID after a show and got caught in a snowstorm just outside Baker City, OR. I-84 went straight from drive-able to a fucking shitshow. I was sliding all over the road and could barely see. Of course, I didn’t have chains (growing up in WI, the city/state actually takes care of the roads and salts/clears the fucking roads). I was trapped between a couple semi-trucks so I could slow down or speed up too much as we weaved through the mountainous region, complete with various cliffs (remember: I will die by driving over a cliff. I’ve dreamt it so many times I know it to be true. It is my worst fear, but also a reality; but not on this day) and treacherous curves. Right before I got to this stretch of highway (which lasted about 100 miles and nearly 6 hours) I had set my Spotify to repeat on this song. Once I hit the rough patch, every time I reached to change the song, my car would swerve or I’d lose traction to remind me to fucking leave it be. I decided I would not go off the cliff or get run over by the semi-trucks who seemed intent on driving much faster than me but with far less control by focusing on this song and this song only until I was back into safety. Courtney Marie Andrews, without this song, I probably would’ve freaked out or made a driving mistake which could have led to my demise. Thank you.

“Ultrafluorescent” - Oshwa

Either I’m drunk or Squarespace’s spellcheck is fucking awful. It keeps flagging words I spell right motherfucker. I don’t get it.. But regardless, I can’t figure out why I like this song so much. I just do. I just do.

“Breakfast of Champions” - Rainer Maria

For those under 30, this is what the music of our teenage years sounded like. Perfectly beautiful, rough, melodic, angry, sad, hopeful and named after Kurt Vonnegut Jr. books. Brilliant. And one of the few bands from Wisconsin that kicked fucking ass. They were perfect for a moment and a place. And that moment is me and that place is wherever the fuck I am.

Just noticed every song is sung and/or written by women. Seems like I have a preference for my vocal presentations, songs and musical sensibilities. Anyone who thinks women don’t kick as much ass as (or more than) men can go fuck themselves. Just listen to these tunes and tell me different. Some of the best shit I’ve heard in the past couple years. I love it and I hope you enjoy these tunes. I don’t actually. I couldn’t care less, actually. God bless Asperger’s. God Bless Me. I think I’ve had enough pours to officially like Buffalo Trace bourbon by now. God Bless America.

(dictated but not read)

Lonesome Crowded West aka... why the fuck am I still here?

I would spend my time writing a blog right now but I’m watching THIS DOCUMENTARY ON MODEST MOUSE’S “LONESOME CROWDED WEST” instead. I’m no longer a Pitchfork fan myself (though they did help me find artists such as My Bloody Valentine, Bonnie Prince Billy, the Flaming Lips, Cocteau Twins, etc.) but this is a good piece of work. Mostly it’s just old clips and a few new interviews but I’m obsessed as “Lonesome Crowded West” is one of my all-time favorite records to the point where my 8 year old brother would sing “Shit Luck” repeatedly as we played Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros. back in the day. Sorry got to finish this shit. Note to self: I love everything Modest Mouse. They’re the reason I ended up spending a year and a half in Seattle (back when my rent was $500/month for a spot in Belltown. A pimp, a literal pimp, moved into my apartment after me and got arrested six months later for prostitution. But I loved that apartment. I could look at the Space Needle and the Monorail. The Monorail once broke down right in front of my fifth floor apartment and I opened the window and serenaded them with songs while they sat there for hours. I bet they loved it. Who doesn’t love Bob Dylan covers while you’re distraught, hungry and angry for paying to take a tram a mile or so that you could have just walked in the fucking first place? I also famously almost murdered someone there, see THESE BLOG POSTS) and I loved every minute of it. I took a bus (I didn’t own a car) out to Issaquah just to see it since I had heard/read so much about it but didn’t know what it felt like to be there. It was… fine… But I loved every minute of it. It was all more interesting than growing up in Horicon, WI where there is one traffic light which is only there to help keep the shift change at the John Deere factory from being too disruptive to the town since half of it worked there. The other half was at one of the six bars in the town of 3000 people. Now I’m just rambling when I should be watching that damn “Lonesome Crowded West” thing. Fuck…

Want to hear 18 year old Bradley Wik sing some fucking songs? aka being 18 and depressed is so much more hopeful/hopeless... aka 18 year olds are sooo dramatic...

I was bored/drunk and kicking around my old iTunes and found these. Oh, and I thought it was fucking Monday until about two hours ago when I was told that was not the case. So, sorry this is two days late but I didn’t know until two hours ago so fuck it. Stupid drinking holidays messing with my days… Anyhow, back in the day when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a pager, or something like that, I was a young ambitious singer/songwriter. I thought every feeling I felt was important and worth relaying to the world. Then I hit my Bob Dylan phase where I wrote songs that began with lines like:

There’s a black moonlight tear across her pale face

but the girl holding an iris feels oddly out of place

and the son of a preacher brings only disgrace

to his uncle selling honesty from a jar

Sooo… You know…

But, before that, I was a baby faced kid who typed out his lyrics on a royal quiet de luxe. Wait, I still do that… Shit. Well, I was baby faced and naive, so that counts for something. Some of the songs I wrote I still enjoy, including the two I will be sharing with you. The performance’s aren’t always brilliant and I’ve always had more confidence than skill as a singer, which shines through in these recordings. But, there is something here. An energy I love and don’t always have these days. I used to write like five or six songs per month (though most were shite/forgettable) but some weren’t terrible. You may think these are rough (they are) but I hope you can at least take in the emotion, the fears, the naivete, the conviction, the narcissism, the hope, the despair, the raw sexuality (OK maybe not that one) of these tunes. I haven’t heard these in years and have no reason to share them other than the fact that I’m drunk on a Monday/Wednesday (thanks New Years!) or whatever the fuck it is and I’m nostalgic. Anywho…

SONG FOR GOD (listen at bradleywik.com)

A song written about/for my first real girlfriend. Or at least about my first real pussy, or as it’s otherwise known: God. Just kidding (kind of) but reading back over the lyrics, I’m surprised I was as honest as I was. My favorite line:

There’s a picture on her arm that’s only a scar

a reminder of times when faith wasn’t all that she had left to dream of

She would get tattoos to cover the cutting scars she had. I would only later (and for different reasons) learn about that. I’m about to get my first tattoo to cover some scars from my bouts of dissociative behavior. Anyhow, this song makes me feel like I’m 18 and depressed which is so much more hopeful than being like 30 and depressed. Not sure why. I guess it’s probably more depressing to be young and sad than experienced and sad. Who knows… Speaking of…

too happy to ever be anything (a symphony that has never begun) - (listen at bradleywik.com)

One of the most raw and honest songs I’ve ever written. I’m clearly struggling with my recently found (then lost) religion. Had a friend whose dad was a preacher. I really enjoyed his sermons until he said that all music should be in praise of God or it’s sinful. He lost me and I never felt comfortable with organized religion again. I desperately wanted something to believe in but realized it was music and not religion. Humans aren’t meant to interpret God, unless through pure beauty and art. Music is how I hear/know God and always be. Don’t get me started on Jesus, or else risk a long tirade about the absurdity of the new testament… Thank you for not getting me started. Anyways, listen to the songs and enjoy this rare peek into the very young and inexperienced and raw world of 18 year old Bradley Wik. Because I know you all give a shit… Well, I do, so fuck it..

(dictated but not read)