Why I play music... aka... how a kid with Asperger's learned to connect with the world... Part 2

In PART 1, I wrote about how I’ve always felt “different,” even as a child, but didn’t know why; how I struggled with interpersonal relationships (well, I still do) and felt a general sense of isolation from the world around me; and how Brett Favre and Bruce Springsteen became my conduits to other humans. But, what I didn’t talk about a ton, despite it being in the title, was Asperger’s. Well, there’s a simple reason for that: Asperger’s wasn’t a part of my life then. Well, yes, I know technically it was, but I was completely unaware that I had it, what it actually was, and how much harm/good it was doing to/for me. Now that I know, I want to talk about how it’s affected my life and my relationships, how it’s helped me, how it’s hurt me, and, how through it all, music has been the steadying force in my life since that “Born to Run” moment. That sentiment is simultaneously not true, as music has completely fucked my life up in numerous ways. So, the two go hand in hand. Everything about my journeys with both music and Asperger’s seems to be contradictory and very polarized. They’re both the best/worst things that could ever happen to a guy, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world…

 

It’s recently become a popular sentiment, first by Kanye and then later by Greta, the climate change icon, that mental health “issues” or “diagnoses” can actually be a positive thing. I think they’ve both gone on record as calling it a “superpower,” which is awesome. But that also makes me feel like I’m in the Truman Show (I know, a common trait amongst serial killers, but I can’t even count how many things I’ve willed into existence anymore…) as it’s something I’ve been saying for years to anyone that would listen and now suddenly I’m reading about it all over the place. Hell, even Jerry Seinfeld said he probably was on the Autism/Asperger’s spectrum and said it isn’t “dysfunctional” but just “an alternate mindset.” I like that. I have an “alternate mindset.” Makes me sound more like a genius… (wait, isn’t that also a serial killer attribute? Being a self-proclaimed genius? Well, at least my love for animals is a big strike against me being a serial killer. Why am I talking about the traits of serial killers? Damn you, Netflix, for recommending so many murder documentaries!)

 

My wife was actually the first person to bring this up and tell me how lucky I am to have Asperger’s. More times than I can count, she’s mentioned how she wishes she could do and say some of the things that come so naturally for me. Over the years, I’ve also had many a musician friend comment on how they wish they could be more like me; in certain regards, that is. I’ve talked about the many positives of having Asperger’s over the years (having routines that save time/energy, decisions that should be hard aren’t for me, big life changes don’t really phase me, extreme persistence in pursuing things I need/want, unswayable morals, etc.), but I think the main thing that people wish they could do is not care so much. I keep hearing from others how they really wish they could not care as much about things like:

 

• what other people think of them
• what other people think of their music/art/writing/etc.
• what other people might say if they do x/y/z
• how other people might feel if they do x/y/z
• how many people clicked on their whatever on social media
• how many people streamed their song/music video/etc.
• how many people showed up to their show/event/etc.
• whether people will like their new music/art/writing/etc.
• whether they might look stupid by doing or saying something
   

I could go on, but you get the point. I know many a person affected by George McFly syndrome. You know, the what if I’m not good enough? What if no one likes it? I just don’t think I could take that kind of rejection thing. It can be paralyzing. I’ve known more than a few artists/musicians who’ve given up because the stress of putting their worth into others’ approval is too much. It can suck the joy out of things very quickly. One of my best friends, and the most talented musician I’ve ever known, goes years between albums and shows because of George McFly syndrome. My wife quit playing her music altogether because of it. One bad show can send them spiraling in self-doubt, draining them of their confidence and making them question their indisputable talent. I wish that I could do something about it. I wish I could give them a little Asperger’s the way Jedis in the latest Star Wars movie can now magically give others life (don’t even get me started on the latest Star Wars… Thank you for not getting me started…). But, I can’t. They can’t have what I have, unfortunately. I just wish they could not care, like me.

 

All those things on the list up there, I don’t give a damn about a single one. And I’m not just saying that to sound cool or something, I really don’t. I’m not sure I have the ability to. Sure, it still feels good when things go well, when a show is packed, when people say they love your music, etc.; everyone likes a compliment, even me. But, and this may sound mean, I don’t really care. If no one told me “good show tonight” or “I love that song” I’d still be fine. I judge my music, performances, etc. against how I think I should write, perform, etc. That’s the only criteria that matters to me. I’ve played countless shows where I’ve received the nicest compliments from people but still came away with a list of things ready for myself to work on and improve for the next show. I think it’s why I was good at sports. I always wanted to improve, never felt comfortable, and didn’t need a coach or someone else to inspire me. I’m all the inspiration I’ll ever need. Again, which is great for a musician.

 

In the music world, and, unfortunately, even more so for female musicians, there are so many things and people that will try to beat you down. The system is almost designed to do so, especially if you are tying up your worth into other peoples’ judgments of you. Since I don’t really care, I’m able to move more freely around the music world without the anxiety that plagues a lot of the musicians I know. Since you can’t actually control other people’s actions, thoughts, words, likes, dislikes, etc., it’s a huge mental burden to try and then also to worry about it. Trying to make sure a room full of people are having a good time is exhausting. I’d rather put all my energy into performing the best I can and let them all do whatever the hell they’re going to do. I can’t do a damn thing about it either way, so I want to have the most fun I can whilst performing. 

 

I think the other part of “not caring” that is very beneficial, again, especially to a musician, is that I don’t worry about results. It’s something I constantly remind my wife (and friends, colleagues, etc.) to do. She spends so much time worrying about how things might end up that she can paralyze herself fretting the possibilities. I know a lot of people who do this. When I play a show, all I can do is promote it, prepare myself and the band, and then go have fun. Everything else is out of my control. The things people worry the most about are things they can’t do anything about anyways like: how many people will show up, will they like it, will I or someone make a mistake while playing, etc. It’s wasted energy, and it’s something my Asperger’s allows me to not care about. I’ve had some of my favorite shows in front of almost nobody. And, one time, to literally nobody as the sound guy went out for a smoke and no one had stayed around for my 2am set at some random bar in NYC, not even my girlfriend. I played a three minute harmonica solo as I covered “Mr. Tambourine Man.” I played two or three Carter Family songs and a Hank Williams tune. I love that memory. It was so much fun. One of my favorite quotes is from former Green Bay Packers (and Jaguar and Steelers) writer Vic Ketchman. He often says “memories make us rich.” That memory of the empty show is worth more than many other hundreds of shows to me. But it never would have had happened if I cared about those things listed above. And there are plenty more memories I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have Asperger’s; like the “Born to Run” moment I wrote about in part 1.

 

There are many days I curse my Asperger’s (or more accurately, my wife curses it) but overall I’d say the positives outweigh the negatives. Is it hard for me to do simple things like making small talk with a barista while I’m getting coffee or chat with the bartender while he makes my drink? Sure, but are those really things that are categorically life-changing? No. Do I sometimes get overwhelmed when in public places with lots of other people? Yes, but those situations can also mostly be avoided. Do I have trouble making and keeping friends since it’s hard for me to make connections and even harder to find the time/energy to want to go hang out with people when I really just want/need to stay home and recharge? Yes. But, planning in advance and also planning downtime for myself can alleviate a lot of that. Does my Asperger’s also increase my depression? Probably, as I’ve read a lot of compelling evidence linking the two, but who knows. Is it difficult to sometimes perform simple tasks as I get overwhelmed when I overcomplicate things? Sure, but making task lists and breaking them down helps my brain focus. Is it difficult for me to understand metaphors or when people are trying to be polite by saying one thing but meaning something else? Yes, and I know I’ve alienated some people because I took them at their word or said something too bluntly or completely misread a situation and, therefore, acted inappropriately. I know, a songwriter who struggles with metaphors. Weird, right? That’s why I’m always amazed when I stumble across one when writing. Further proves my theory that music is ethereal and we are merely conduits for it, each with our own storytelling skill set which is why we receive the songs we do. But, I digress…

I’d say the toughest thing about having Asperger’s is my relationship with my wife. She’s a very emotional woman and that’s difficult for me. Seems like at least once a month I do or say something that unintentionally causes her to get angry, hurt, sad, etc. I don’t mean to and very rarely do I realize what it is that I’ve done. We’re getting better at communicating these things but I struggle badly at it. I wish I didn’t do and say stupid things and I’m trying to learn what they are so I can stop myself in the future, but even that is proving very tricky for me. It’s also difficult because we have disparate needs when we occasionally do have a fight. She needs comforting and touch, and I need to be left alone. Obviously, we both can’t have what we need at the same time. I’m also really bad at pretending to care. It’s written all over my face and body language so I can’t really hide it. It comes in handy when someone you don’t like approaches you at a party and you’d like to leave, but it’s very un-handy when your wife needs you to at least pretend to care. This is the evil side of “not caring.”

 

Anyways, I’m surely a bit off-topic here, but I’m trying to give a fuller picture as I don’t feel like I’ve adequately described things in the past. It’s always been more anecdotal. And, in the spirit of this post, I’d like to move on to how music has affected my life in eerily similar ways. Just as Asperger’s has helped me through some tough times, both personally and professionally, music has done much the same. Music has also taken a lot from me, just as my Asperger’s has.

 

I’m a big believer in karma and balance. Not necessarily in the spiritual sense, but more in a literal sense. The same way that in nature everything comes to balance. Steel will eventually rust and return to the earth as iron. Rain will eventually evaporate, reform clouds and then fall back to earth. But also, just like in science, every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Which stands to reason but is a tough pill to swallow some days. For every moment of, oh, say hearing your songs on a radio station halfway around the world, playing in front of hundreds of people, meeting my wife at a show I was playing back in Portland, OR; there has to be the opposite too. The years of depression. The hours spent fighting with the band over the dumbest things (I now realize that in all likelihood we had three people in that group who had Asperger’s, including me. That helped us forge our sound and some amazing music, but could also be the worst situation imaginable. Our drummer was kicked out of the recording sessions for both albums we did together…). The drinking and the drugs. We’d make a record (great) and immediately spend hours, days, weeks hating each other and break up (bad).

 

As I mentioned in part 1, my friends and I spend hours discussing how much we hate/love music. I think the best way to describe it to others who say “why don’t you just stop then?” is that it’s an addiction. For me, there’s a part of my brain that only gets its juice from writing and performing music. I don’t know what it is but I don’t think I’d survive if I stopped. It’s probably the same reason Springsteen is still out doing three hour shows. I used to hate that. I always thought “why don’t the old guys just hang it up?” But, the more I played music, the more I realized that I couldn’t stop either. I feel like music has physiologically altered my brain in some way and now I can’t function without it. And, normally I’m pretty good at quitting things once my mind is made up on something. That’s probably the Asperger’s, but once I quit sports, I had no desire to play ever again. Once I decided to move out of my hometown, I had no desire to go back. Once I decided to quit smoking, I stopped that day. But music is a whole different beast.

 

It’s strange, but I feel the most comfortable as a person when I’m on-stage performing. It’s hard to describe, but that’s when I feel the most “me.” Like I can take a breath and relax for once. I say weird things that are sometimes funny. I lose track of time and just have fun for those two or whatever hours. It’s definitely weird to say out loud (or, write out loud, as it were…) as that is most certainly not healthy. To feel the most me, I have to be playing music that I’ve written in front of other people. Trust me, I don’t get it either. I remember the first time I told my wife this, she said it was merely attention-seeking behavior. It’s true, I do love attention and that’s probably why I act out sometimes and/or get bored when people aren’t paying attention to me. I’m like a cat in that way. But, I think she finally believes me when I say that isn’t the whole truth. Yes, I want attention but being on stage is probably what it’s like when someone has a religious experience or prays to God. It’s personal and singular to them. They don’t have to “be” anything other than their true selves. Some people go to confession, I like to do mine in front of an audience. It’s the same thing; except I get paid to do mine.

 

The other benefit of performing is that it turns my brain off, which is awesome. I don’t think much at all when I’m on stage. I just be. It’s wonderful. I can’t tell you how much of my life is spent in my own head. I’ll often laugh or say something really fucking random because in my head it’s all connected. For example, a week ago my wife and I were going to see the latest Star Wars (again, don’t get me started…) and I casually mentioned that it can’t be as bad as some of the prequels. Then, without missing a beat, I said “just like Alanis Morissette.” Of course, my wife was like “what the hell?” I then had to explain that after I said that, I went back on that sentiment because, if I’m being honest, I actually kinda like “Phantom Menace.” Jar-Jar aside, I got to experience that movie through my brother’s eyes. It was his first Star Wars in the theatre experience (mine too) and it blew his mind. He was probably five or six at the time so he could relate to young Anakin. His excitement was contagious and I grew to love that movie. We played the pod racing video game and watched Episode 1 many a time. But the only reason I like that movie at all is because of the experience of taking it in as, and with, a child. I valued the experience more than the actual movie. In my brain, the logical step was to ask myself “what else did you have to be there for that wouldn’t make as much sense now?” I arrived on 90’s music. Much of the 90’s has come back around in culture but a lot of the music hasn’t. Wu-Tang has because of their recent documentary, Ms. Lauryn Hill has because she’s just one of the most talented people ever, Rage Against the Machine has because they are such icons and reunite to play shows only every 5-10 years, and the Foo Fighters and Sheryl Crow just never went away. But bands like the Wallflowers, Everclear, New Radicals, Semisonic, Goo Goo Dolls, Lisa Loeb, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, etc., etc., never really stayed relevant and haven’t enjoyed a comeback. The one that surprised me though, since she was the fucking queen of being awesome and weird and super talented, was Alanis Morissette. She’s back on tour but her music hasn’t really made a comeback and you really had to be there to know just how huge she was back in the day. She had hit after hit and was everywhere. But, I don’t think the kids nowadays know her as the musical mastermind she once was. It’s almost like how everyone’s forgotten that Mike Ditka was better as a player than he was as a coach. But, I digress. So, that’s how we arrived at “just like Alanis Morissette.” If you didn’t live through her reign as a pop/rock music icon, you probably see her much differently than I do. That’s how my brain works and it’s doing that all in milliseconds and doing it all day, every day. That’s why I value things that can shut off my brain.

 

But, there’s something inherently wrong with anything that makes you constantly need more of it to feel good about yourself, but that’s how music is. Everything that I’ve already written is the past and it’s on to the next song, the next hit of endorphins or whatever it is that floods my brain when I write a new song that I love. But, it’s also a helpful guide as it keeps me moving forward instead of moving in circles in my mind. Not sure if that makes sense, but it’s the way I feel many days. Like my life is a flat circle and I just keep repeating the same things over and over; which, to some extent, I do. I do wake up at almost the same time each day, eat the same thing for lunch almost every day, have my week planned out where I do mostly the same things on the same days each week, etc. But, for my creativity to spur, I need chaos (that’s healthy, right?). I need change. I need new environments and new stimuli. I have enough stories to tell (I’ve lived quite a life) but sometimes need something to jar me out of my routines so I can focus on telling them. I often only write songs when I feel the need to. When I’m prepping a new album or want something new for a string of shows or whatever. But, when I get the bug, I often write songs in clusters. I’ll write three or four at a time then move on to the next three or four. It’s why groups of songs will often share similar themes, characters, places, etc. I’ll also often pull a piece from this song to put into that song or tear down three to build one that’s the best parts of each. But, the most important piece of this is that I feel a purpose when I have to write new music. It gives me a reason to exist and a reason to keep existing despite whatever bullshit is going on in my life. I might be depressed for a time, but if I can write a song that might make someone else feel OK in their own state of depression, then it is worth it for me to experience that. It circles back to my reason for playing music, to help others like me, who need a companion in a tough time. Or just to feel the comfort of knowing that they are not the only ones going through whatever the hell they are going through. It may sound narcissistic but I truly feel like I’m in a position to help others and it’s my duty (ha! doody…) to do so. But, again, I’m not trying to be some large scale saviour but just want to help a few people who experienced the loneliness that I did. Those who felt disconnected from the world around them. Music helped me, it can help others. I write to try and tell the stories I needed to hear. That’s all I can do. I don’t know what others need. I only know what I needed and that’s all I can give. And I have. And I will continue to do so.

 

Anyways, I’ve rambled long enough. Music giveth and music taketh away. Asperger’s giveth and Asperger’s taketh away. Music gives me a reason to exist and a reason to keep fighting, and Asperger’s gives me the strength to fight and the mental fortitude to do so unrestricted. They both make me depressed and make relationships difficult but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I don’t think I would’ve found music if not for my Asperger’s and I certainly wouldn’t keep playing music without it. And without music, I wouldn’t have a purpose to exist and probably would have ended my life long ago, so I’m grateful for both music and Asperger’s. They team up for good sometimes too.

 

Not sure if any of this means anything to anyone but I hope it does. And, if you have Asperger’s/Autism, I hope you feel like you have a brother out there who gets you and who can hopefully inspire others to pursue their passions and maybe someday they’ll return the favor to their fellow Aspies.

Why I play music... aka... how a kid with Asperger's learned to connect with the world... Part 1

I was recently asked one of my favorite questions: why do I play music?

 

I’ll answer that in a second, but it is funny that when talking about music with others, it usually falls into one of two categories:

 

1) Why I love music and why being a musician is awesome

 

OR

 

2) Why I hate music and why being a musician sucks

 

When talking about number one, I extol the virtues and many gifts music has given me. The stories, the emotions, the connections to other humans (more on this in a bit), the comfort I receive from hearing a familiar album, the way it allows me to process my own emotions, the way music connects me to my past (I have terrible recall for my past, so I use music as my historical checkpoints. For instance, if someone asked me what I was up to in 2003-2004, I could probably muster up a few things but it would hardly be a complete answer. But, if you asked me about the time when I was obsessed with Arcade Fire’s “Funeral,” Sun Kil Moon’s “Ghosts of the Great Highway” and Death Cab for Cutie’s “Transatlanticism,” I could run you through a huge list of connected memories from that time in my life. I know there’s more than a few of you out there who can relate.), how music saved my life and gave me a purpose when I desperately needed a reason to stop thinking about killing myself, and on and on. Music has given me everything. It’s given me so many wonderful memories. It is the reason I met the friends I have. It is the reason I met my wife It’s literally the reason I’m writing this right now.

 

Being a musician allows me to live the lifestyle that feels most natural to me. No one criticizes me anymore for having longer, messy hair or not showering every day or waking up at 10:30am or spending too much time playing guitar/singing or RANTING ABOUT RANDOM THINGS or any of the other reasons people used to think I was weird. Now, people accept those things because I’m an “artist.” It’s great.

 

BUT, when talking about number two (ha! Insert poop joke here), which is usually with other musicians, I talk about the false promises music has made to me, how the industry has changed so drastically, and for the worse, in my lifetime, how I wish I could go back in time and tell myself everything I know now, and maybe persuade my younger self to choose something else to obsessively pursue, how I wish I could separate my self-identity from music but it’s tentacles have wrapped and swallowed up most of my insides, in both a good and bad way, how thinking about my future with music makes me so hopeful-yet-depressed, and all the other reasons my fellow musicians and I usually throw out as to why we should quit music (but, ultimately, never will).

 

As I stated before, being a musician allows me to live the lifestyle that feels most natural to me. Unfortunately, that also includes lots of bad habits and has lead to a number of terrible decisions over the years. Drinking too much, drugs, ill-advised sexual adventures, deep and cyclical depression, the disintegration of relationships, the inability to stay in one place for very long, etc., etc. Music giveth and music taketh away. Everything in life always comes to balance. The higher the highs, the lower the lows, and so it goes…

 

Usually, when talking about number two (ha! Bet you didn’t think I’d say it again but now you’re thinking about poop for a second time!), it will slowly morph back into number one. I don’t know for sure whether this is because at the root of it all we really do love music unconditionally or if it’s because we are trying to justify our commitment to music and all the years/time/energy/money we have already invested in it. I’d like to say the former but I don’t know if I can say that unequivocally…

 

Which brings us back to the original premise: why do I play music?

 

As far back as I can remember (which usually goes back to about age 5-6, when I would spend all day either trying to recreate Michael Jackson’s dance moves from “Bad” in the living room or running around the backyard all day with a plastic ninja sword pretending to be Leonardo, the leader of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…), I always felt a little different from other kids. Obviously, at that time, I was unable to articulate those feelings or thoughts in any meaningful way. When I started going to school, I remember starting to become more aware of it. So did others. But, remember, this was way before anyone was really thinking about how kids acted in a clinical way. It was either they were smart, dumb, hyperactive, disruptive, lazy, etc. and the kids who did receive any special attention were the ones who were severely learning disabled. Even our tiny town had a learning disabilities class, which is incredible (and so was the woman who ran it) given that our entire K-8 school housed maybe 400-500 students. But, any other kid that displayed “not normal” behavior was usually labeled slow, was told they had ADD (attention deficit disorder, before they added that “H” to it) and moved to the redundant class. I was also lumped into this group, at least for a bit.

 

Soon, after some additional testing and the incredible support from my mom, they concluded I should actually be taking advanced classes instead of being moved to the slower class. They landed on the fact that I was disruptive because I was bored and I didn’t understand why everyone wasn’t done with their work as quickly as I was. I’m not saying this brag, but to illustrate the beginning of my disconnect from the “normal” people around me which I’ve felt for a long time.

 

In Middle School, and especially in High School, these “outsider” type feelings really started to grow. Again, I had no way to verbalize this to anyone so they could maybe offer some suggestions or help; so, instead I retreated inward. I used to study people having conversations and try and figure out the mechanism behind it. It didn’t quite make sense to me. It was like an impossible math problem. I could talk at people but not with people. For some reason, it was hard, or almost impossible, for me to care about what anyone else was saying most of the time. Despite this, it wasn’t like I was a loner. I had plenty of friends. I was invited to parties and sleepovers and whatnot. People generally liked me. But, that was always centered around one thing: sports. Sports were my conduit and connection with others. I lived and breathed sports (Packers, Brewers and Bucks fan for life! In that order.), spent hours pouring over stats, collected massive amounts of baseball and football cards, and drew up plays in all my school notebooks. My friends and I would play sports all day, every day. Baseball season turned into Football season which turned into Basketball season which turned back in Baseball season. I could talk sports with anyone and for hours. I’m sure some people were likely sick of me talking about my beloved Green Bay Packers, and how Brett Favre was the greatest football player ever and my eternal hero (which he still is to this day). I didn’t need other hobbies or interests as sports consumed every waking moment. I was convinced I would either:

 

A) Become the starting shortstop for the Brewers

 

Or, if that didn’t work out, I’d fall back on:

 

B) Become a starting wide receiver for the Packers

 

Simple, right?

 

(I know, you’re probably wondering why I’m blathering about all this when the question was about music. Well, hold on to your butts, I’m almost there.)

 

Well, not exactly. First off, it would have been highly unlikely that a 5’7”, 120lb white kid from the sticks would be able to crack either of those major sports leagues. Not impossible per se, but not entirely possible either. Second, I had an Achilles’ tear when I was a Sophmore in High School. It wasn’t a complete tear, but it wasn’t far off. Coupled with my ongoing knee issues and my flat feet, I began to realize that sports were not likely in my future. It was a devastating blow for someone who didn’t really know much else. What would I do now? I briefly dabbled in nihilism, like a lot of High School-aged kids do, I’m sure. I had nothing left to look forward to. Things weren’t going great for ‘ol Bradley (or Brad, at the time).

 

When I stopped playing sports, suddenly most of my “friends” were no longer my friends. I wasn’t part of a group or team or anything. I had lost my connection to other people. Depression set in. Suddenly, that was my identity and I was really good at it. I started working at a factory so I had something to do after school. It was mostly mindless but passed the time and paid pretty damn well, especially for an unexperienced 16 year old in a small town. My coworkers became my new friends. Maybe this is what I’d do going forward. They all seemed to be doing OK. Until I started to see through that more and more. Some were. Some were not. Some were just as depressed as I was pretending not to be. There was a lot of drinking the nights away; and sometimes, the harder stuff would come out. I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted something more. And still, through all that, I never felt like I fit in. Even with other depressed, aimless people, I was still the outsider. I told myself it was because I was destined for greater things, which turned out to be somewhat true. But, mostly, I just couldn’t feel any real connection to most of those around me. I didn’t know why and I didn’t know if anyone else felt like this. It was lonely.

 

It was around this time we had to take one of those stupid aptitude tests that supposedly tells you what you should be when you grow up. Most kids were already scouting out colleges at this time and I’m sure the school was trying to help them towards picking their major. (I had no path for my future, and thus, no desire to go to college. I viewed it as a waste of time. And, it would have been had I gone.) But, as is often the case with standardized personality/trait tests like that, my answers were so erratic and diametrically opposed that it could not reasonably spit out an answer as I was seemingly two separate people. There was the loud, boisterous Brad who thought speech class was the best because everyone had to shut up, give me all their attention, and listen to me talk. There was also the Brad who preferred to hole up and read Kurt Vonnegut Jr. books, play NFL 2K (or Madden when the NFL/EA killed 2K. Sega Dreamcast for life!) for hours, and hang out with my little brother in our bedroom and not interact at all with the outside world. There was the Brad who would cut class with a small group and go get high outside the Taco Bell and devour double-decker tacos like they were going out of style. But, there was also the Brad who spent his study halls alone, practicing pep band songs on his trombone. There was the Brad that thought Metallica and AC/DC were the greatest bands in the world. But, there was also the Brad who loved Tchaikovsky and Outkast with equal vigor. So, how was this stupid test supposed to know which to choose? Which was the real Brad?

 

There was always one teacher who I greatly respected, had become friends with and rarely argued with (which, is a miracle, as I rarely got along with my teachers). He sat me down and said this test doesn’t work for people like me. He said the Brad he knew would never let a damn piece of paper choose his direction in life. “What are you passionate about? What do you love to do?” he asked.

 

The only things that came to mind were reading and listening to music, but never at the same time. I don’t know how people do that. If music is on, I can’t concentrate on other things. “Aha!" he said. “Then music it is.”

 

“But how?” I asked. “I can’t sing to save my life and the only instrument I can kinda play is the trombone. I wish I could play guitar…”

 

“Then figure it out.”

 

He knew what motivated me and how much I loved to be challenged. Years before, my first foray into music was short-lived. I had saved up my lawn mowing and snow shoveling money and bought myself one of those $99 specials out of the JCPenney’s catalog. Kids over the age of 30 probably remember how awesome that fucking catalog was. It would come like two or three months before Christmas so you could start dreaming of all the stuff you couldn’t have. My sister and I would earmark dozens of its 1000 pages, hoping to get at least a few of the treasures inside. But, in this case, I could finally get it on my own. I ordered it through the mail and patiently waited for it to arrive. When it finally did, I was beside myself with excitement. I was on a path to a new world! Except, I didn’t know what to do with it. We couldn’t afford lessons and I didn’t even know how to get it in tune. Eventually, I figured out that I needed to spend another $15 on a tuner. I learned how to strum a few chords but it was much harder to play than I anticipated. Both literally, as my fingers ached, and sometimes bled, each day after only a short while, and generally as I struggled to remember where my fingers were supposed to go. I gave up after only a short while. He knew that. He knew I hated struggling at things but if someone challenged me, then I had to prove them wrong at all costs. I had to go home, pick up that damn guitar and get to work.

 

He also played guitar and would stay after school to show me some simple things to go practice. He showed me how to play a few very basic blues and folk songs. I spent hours practicing each night. Eventually, I graduated to strumming along to Bob Dylan songs. I learned how to play “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison and would host singalongs at the few parties I was still invited to. But, this all still felt like work. I wasn’t having much fun. I still sucked, still couldn’t play anything but a few basic chords, and had no idea how I would ever turn this into a career. Then, just like what had happened back in ‘92, when Brett Favre was introduced into my life after Majkowski went down during that Bengals game, as he seemingly always did, and he brought me sports as my connection to the world around me; I would be introduced to a hero who would show me a new path to connecting to people. Going forward, that connection would be music; and that hero’s name was Bruce Springsteen.

 

To give you the full experience, I’ll give you the full scene. When I was 16, my grandma was getting rid of a bunch of stuff, and one of those things was her old console sized record/8-track player. It was the kind that is about four feet long and three feet high, is all made of light colored wood and closes to be like a bar top. It was so heavy, I’m still surprised we were able to get it upstairs. The wooden monstrosity took up most of one whole wall when we finally finagled it into my (and my brother’s) bedroom. I was so excited to have my own record player but didn’t own any records myself. I started going through my mom’s collection and pulled a few to try out the player with. There was Neil Young’s “Decade” collection, Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumors” and Bruce Sprinsteen’s “Born to Run.” I had heard hits from all three artists, but never really dove into their records on the whole. Once I got the record player set up and working, I put on “Decade.” It was better than I had hoped. I loved his seemingly reckless and wild style when he played with the band and I remember the song “Helpless” really hit me hard.

 

I got ready to fire up a second album. I chose “Born to Run.” I had heard the song “Born to Run” on the radio a few times and I liked it, but thought Springsteen was mostly for the older crowd, not 16 year olds. I was so used to CD’s where the side you play is down that I put the record on upside down (B-side up). I pushed the button to start the automatic needle drop and found a spot across the room. I sat down on the floor next to my bed, back against my dresser. I closed my eyes. The Neil Young record had felt so alive and so real, I hoped this one would feel the same way. I had heard vinyl sounded different and so far it was 1 for 1 in my real life test. The needle finally touched down and made its silent loop around the outside groove, with a few cracks and pops so you knew it had found its mark. THEN… the intro to “Born to Run” kicked in (as it’s track one on side-B) with that drum fill and then that simple yet iconic guitar riff. I got shivers. By the time the vocal kicked in, I was already in another world. I couldn’t open my eyes. My heart began to beat faster. My whole body clenched up. My brain raced. What was this I was hearing? What was this I was feeling? It felt like it was all happening in slow motion, and suddenly, I was watching myself as I sat there paralyzed by the beauty and majesty of the sound coming from those old speakers. I could feel every drum fill in my stomach. Every word was perfect, every note necessary. Elation and anxiety washed over me. I searched my mind for a comparison to this moment. I tried to figure out the math behind this feeling while the physical version of me sat, eyes closed, on the floor taking in the this wondrous music. I wanted to be like him and just let this newfound glory wash over me but something was stopping me. I couldn’t stop trying to figure out what was happening. My brain kept spinning in circles and I tried to find something, anything to help me understand. I was panicked. But, looking down, that version of me was in heaven. Why don’t I get to enjoy this as he is? It wasn’t fair. I was having a meltdown and he was calm as could be. Finally, I gave up. I closed my eyes. And then something incredible happened. I slowly felt myself rejoin my physical body. In stressful moments like this, I’ve always felt a disconnect between my brain and body. But, suddenly, int that moment, they were reconnected and my brain switched off. There was no time for thoughts when this magical music is playing. For the first time in a long time, I stopped thinking. I was just being. I was just accepting. I was just being happy in a beautiful moment. It was something I had forgotten how to do.

 

“Born to Run” paused my thoughts and gave me the momentary peace of mind I had been longing for. It was the thing that used to happen when I would play sports. I could just be. I didn’t have the voices constantly chattering away as I tried to figure everything out like the world was one big math problem that I needed to solve. “Born to Run” allowed me to just be me for a while. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off my shoulders, if only for those four and a half minutes. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Or so I thought. But, music had an even greater gift and was just waiting for me to find it.

 

I started the song over. Partly because I needed that feeling again. And, if I’m being honest, partly because I thought there was a skip on the record in the bridge when they do the descending line just before they all pause and wait for Bruce’s famous “1, 2, 3, 4” to storm back into the final verse. There wasn’t of course but the band hits those notes so perfectly at the end of the run, that I swore it was the same one skipping, what seven times, before resolving. This time I focused all my attention on the words. By the time he said “Baby, this town rips the bones from your back. It’s a death trap…” I felt like he was singing about me, but me in the future; and, somehow he was doing it from the past. Somehow, back in 1975, he knew exactly what 16 year old Bradley would need to hear about 20 year old Bradley 30-some years later (hopefully that makes sense). I felt everything that he felt as he sang those words with all his heart. I felt like I knew him and he knew me. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who thought and felt the way I did. Maybe someone else understood my thoughts and feelings even better than I did. I finally felt like I wasn’t alone anymore. I cried as that song played for the second time. I felt like I had found my way back home after wandering aimlessly for the past year or two after losing sports. Bruce unlocked that part of my brain and my heart that allowed me to be myself again. I owe him everything for that.

 

That’s what music gave to me. It made me feel “human” in a way nothing else could. I finally felt “normal.” The more music I really listened to, the more I felt like I was part of a larger world of people who knew exactly who I was. I could learn from them. They were teaching me it was OK to be myself, no matter how fucked up I felt most of the time. And whenever I was feeling bad, they gave me a place where I could leave that at the door, put on a record, and escape; even if just for a while. I knew this was what I wanted to do. I knew I wanted to give the gift of music to others. I wanted others to feel OK about being themselves because someone else out there knew exactly what they were feeling. There’s a comfort in that. It’s why people listen to sad songs to feel better. Music gives people permission to be who they are and lets them know they are not alone. I may not know Bruce Springsteen personally, but he’s given me the best friend I’ve ever had in “Born to Run.” I thought it was my duty to pay it forward. If I could make music and help one person feel less alone and less fucked up in the world, then I’ve done my life’s work.

 

This is why I play music: to help people, especially those who’ve lost, or still haven’t found, their connection to the world around them.

 

That is what music gave to me that day so many years ago. That is what I hope to give back to others.

 

I know a lot people who have Asperger’s/Autism might feel that same disconnect I did (and still do sometimes). But, I want them to know it’s OK and they’re not broken. And, there’s a place where you can feel at peace and at home. It’s music. And maybe for some, it isn’t music. TV also does a lesser version of this for me. TV still allows me to shut my brain off for a while so I can relax a bit (Rick & Morty for life!). It doesn’t provide the same life-giving energy that music does, but everyone is different. Maybe it’s books or movies, but these stories can help us understand ourselves better than we can alone.

 

OK, so I’ve just now mentioned Asperger’s in a long post about playing music and having Asperger’s. Well, there’s lots more of that coming in part 2. You see, the whole time I’ve been feeling disconnected from the world, it was really just a product of the Asperger’s. I didn’t know it then. I don’t know how I could have. No one was really talking about it much back when I was kid. They still don’t, really. I don’t think doctors, teachers, parents, etc. are given much information on Asperger’s and what to look for in identifying it early on. I don’t know what would’ve been different, if anything, had I known sooner. I, myself, have only recently found out and started learning about it. It’s been a crazy three year journey since I started learning about it and how it affects me, but my life has already changed for the better by just knowing I have it. Just as it helps me understand myself better, it also helps those around me (like my wife, friends, etc.) understand a little better why I am the way I am. I don’t think younger Brad would have been able to do much with this information. I feel like I found out at the right time in my life.

 

I also really want to impart that I don’t think of Asperger’s as a disability in any way. In fact, it has helped me in numerous ways in the pursuit of my musical career. I’ll talk more about this in part 2 but I don’t think I’d even have gotten into music in the first place had it not been for my Asperger’s; so I definitely think of it as a blessing. I think people will start to be able to better identify Asperger’s in kids once we stop thinking about it as a negative. Now that I understand Asperger’s (and myself) better, there’s been at least a handful of times where I wish I could tell a parent that their child is likely on the spectrum. But, even the one time I brought it up (when it was even about someone else’s kid) they were quite offended by the mere suggestion. Maybe I should just not care (as I’m good at that) and just say it anyways. But I don’t want people to think it’s an insult and then never seriously consider it for their child. They should realized it can be a good thing. It is for me. As with anything in nature, there’s always a balance. So, there will always be negatives to balance out those positives but I still think I’m much better off on the whole because I have Asperger’s. But, more on that in part 2. Stay posted…

 

Things I'm outraged about right now... aka... not Peloton's stupid holiday ad...

I have a few things I’d like to get off my chest. I know, you’re thinking “How is that different that what you do most of the time?” Well, I guess imaginary you has a point. I often need to get things off my chest and into the (computer) world because somehow this makes me feel better. I’m not sure what the mechanism is as I’m not a psychologist (though I do play one on TV. OK, I don’t but I could…) but, for reasons unknown to me, typing my issues into the interwebsphere helps me move on with my life. This is my therapy, so to speak. Which is nice because this is free and I don’t have health insurance (one of the many “benefits” of being a poor musician… along with worrying about paying rent, drinking probably too much, keeping really weird hours, eating too much cottage cheese after shows… OK, maybe that last one is just me. Not sure why or how it started, but that’s my post-show ritual now. A glass of bourbon and some cottage cheese and kiwi. I’m weird, I know…) so actual therapy is not an option for me right now. As my therapists (or “the rapists” if you’re an SNL nerd like me), all you need to do is listen. Well, I guess technically you don’t even need to do that as I just put this out there and have no clue if anyone actually reads it or not. I could check the stats on Squarespace but I don’t care enough. That’s one of the nice things about having Asperger’s: I don’t have to care about a lot of things that “normal,” non-Aspy people care too much about. I feel like it’s a super power as my wife/friends/family/etc. ask me constantly about what I think about things before they say/do/post/etc it. I don’t really care what other people think about things. Yes, I’d like people to enjoy my music but it’s OK if they don’t. Doesn’t matter to me. If they can’t understand the wonderfully human and tragic-yet-hopeful nature of my storytelling, that’s a loss for them. I don’t gain or lose anything as a result. Well, maybe an album sale or stream here and there, but I don’t make music for money. I make money from music but I don’t make music for money. I’m wholly unconcerned about others’ opinion of me. It’s nice to be free from that burden of trying to be liked or trying to be something you’re not or whatever a related third thing is because things sound better in threes. But, I’ve gotten way off topic. I guess I technically haven’t even established a topic to get off of yet, so I’m still not off topic. Ha! I win…

1) Why are people so hard on Elizabeth Warren about Medicare for All but don’t give Bernie Sanders as much shit about it?

 

It’s such a double standard. Unfortunately, women know this double standard all too well. But, seriously folks, I read Bernie’s document about it on his website and he doesn’t have a solid/attainable plan to pay for it at all. His stance is the government has really low administrative costs for Medicare compared to private insurance companies so that will somehow save money by not having government subsidize those costs to the private companies. I guess. But those costs are still only a part of the total bill. The math doesn’t make sense. He then lists some random shit that “may” be options to help fund his Medicare for All plan. Like an extreme wealth tax plan (never gonna happen as rich people are more influential than poor people and won’t let this happen), lower drug costs (not gonna happen. They pill that can effectively eliminate HIV, literally a cure for AIDS, costs about $75/year in many countries but like $40,000 in America. Drug companies are not going to suddenly give up all that money…) and other things that the very rich are not just going to suddenly let happen which will take more of their money. And that is all being generous, as he couldn’t pass a bill if he wanted to as the Republicans are primed to keep the majority in the Senate anyways as half the Democratic senators are running for President. OK, it’s not half but it sure feels like it sometimes. Bernie also wants to relieve student loan debt, make college free, etc. All things that would require fundamentally changing our country and the way it runs these things. Look, he’s right. All the other first-world countries offer things like healthcare for its citizens, higher education at low-no cost, etc. in one shape or another, but America has always been about money and money and more money first and foremost. It can be good in some instances, but terrible in others. The US should not be ranked 37th in overall healthcare for its citizens. That’s awful and, frankly, unacceptable. Something does need to be done. I’m just not sure Bernie has any effective plans to make that happen.

No one has demanded a more concrete plan from Bernie like they did from Warren. And, now she’s getting angst because she stepped back and said there has to be a transition period before any Medicare for All could be put in place. And her poll numbers have slipped as a result. That’s insane. Of course there has to be a transition. It’s not as if Bernie was going to walk in on January 20th, 2021 and suddenly I’d have healthcare. That’s not how things work. Personally, I don’t think the insurance and drug companies would ever let that happen. They would literally be losing trillions of dollars. People like to have trillions of dollars, I hear. But, it’s insane that Bernie can spout whatever nonsense he wants and Warren would like to move towards one of those lofty goals and gets torn apart over it. I believe it is just because she is a woman. And I can’t believe we are still doing this to women. Think of when Hilary had the flu or whatever and everyone jumped on her like she didn’t have the toughness or health to be President. Bernie literally had a heart attack and no such claims were made. Our current President is morbidly obese, can’t form coherent sentences to save his life and apparently just recently found out that “canine” is just a fancy word for “dog,” and not much is made about his unfitness to be President. It’s stupid we’re still doing this to women so blatantly in 2019. C’mon people, we should be better than this.

2) Happy Saint Nicholas’ Day!

 

Congratulations if you know what the hell I’m talking about since I usually get blank stares when I say it. The tradition is alive in the Wik household as I woke up to fresh baked cookies and other small treats in my stocking. But, apparently, at least according to Wikipedia, if you didn’t grow up with a strong German, Polish and/or Belgian influence in the cities of Milwaukee, Wisconsin; Evansville, Indiana; Cincinnati, Ohio; Fredericksburg, Texas; Newport News, Virginia; St. Louis; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, then you do have a pretty good excuse in having never heard of this holiday. I do love little treats and snacks so I enjoy this day a lot. I forget every year until it’s the morning of December 6th, but still. Sorry to all those who did not get something delicious to celebrate the occasion. I will have one of these delicious snickerdoodle sugar cookies while thinking of you.

3) Why do people choose such stupid shit to get all pissed off about when there are literally hundreds of things that would warrant such vitriol, angst, outrage, etc.?

 

That stupid Peloton commercial was just on whatever generic Hallmark movie is on TV and it got me thinking “Why on Earth are people so outraged about a stupid TV ad?” It’s permeated my newsfeeds (both Apple and Google news) and I had to click on it to see why people would give a shit about a boring, weird and ultimately stupid commercial for a $2500 stationary bike. Apparently, people think it’s sexist since the husband gave his already a model wife a bike (which implies she should lose weight). They also think it perpetuates a stereotypical model of beauty which shouldn’t be idealized. And they’re mad because the model was already fit so how did becoming slightly more fit “change her life?” Look, it’s a dumb commercial. We can all agree on that. But, Peloton is selling a lifestyle/status symbol that is 100% intended for the wealthier types out there. I’ve heard people brag about how many different Peloton products they’ve bought. Which, to be fair, I would probably get one if I had lots of expendable income too. But I don’t, so I use the free bikes down in my apartment complex workout room.

Look, nobody likes to get outraged about nonsensical things more than me (see: almost all my previous blogs. Though most of that is in jest...) and I understand what the complaints are getting at, but who cares? Seriously. We are currently in the process of possibly impeaching our President, who is clearly unfit to serve in so many different ways and is being mocked openly by other world leaders, global warming is pretty much past the point of no return and Manhattan might soon turn into the land under the sea, Puerto Rico is still in a horrible state from the hurricanes, North Korea is offering vague threats about bombing us and are close to having the technology to do so, Iran is now making nukes since the U.S. pulled out of the Iran nuclear deal, we have a growing disparity between the rich and poor in our country, ungodly-wealthy companies like Facebook, Google, FedEx, Amazon, etc. don’t pay taxes despite billions in revenue (and, in fact, some even get refunds in the hundreds of millions of dollars, which is absurd), millions of kids are going to bed hungry every night in the U.S., women here and all over the world are still marginalized/oppressed/not allowed to attend school/forced into marriages/forced to hike miles and miles to fetch clean water/unable to get abortions in some states here at home/at risk for sexual assault whenever they walk down the street, go to college, get into an Uber, the list goes on and on…, racism is still alive and well, in fact, getting worse not better, there were 97 school shootings last year alone and our government has done nothing to keep guns away from anyone who wants one and would like to injure/murder others (see this quote: "It is sobering that in 2017, there were 144 police officers who died in the line of duty and about 1,000 active-duty military throughout the world who died, whereas 2,462 school-age children were killed by firearms," said Charles Hennekens, the study's lead author from Florida Atlantic University's Schmidt College of Medicine.), our V.A. healthcare system is ridiculously broken with wait times of up to three months for care, and it is woefully unprepared to help with the mental health challenges of returning to civilian life leading to veterans being twice as likely (or more, depending on which study you read) to commit suicide as a non-veteran, which is horrible considering what they and they’re families have given up in order to serve our country, our electoral college system is so antiquated/insane that someone can lose by five million votes and still be overwhelmingly be elected to our nation’s highest seat rendering millions of peoples' votes useless, not to mention that Ellen recently went to a football game with former President George W. Bush...

OK, obviously that last one was another example of ridiculous things people get outraged about for no fucking reason. And that list above is just what’s off the top of my head as I write this. I could make an entire list just containing the shitty/absurd things that are still done to women and minorities in 2019 in the United States of America for some insane reason. Look, I don’t like to live my life outraged and angry. I spent an entire year doing that (OK, it was 4 years, aka High School) being angry about: George W. Bush becoming President because of the aforementioned antiquated/insane way we elect our leaders, a small town in Wisconsin still being actively racist against its few minority students and the school doing essentially nothing about the confederate flag waving and hate spewing students it housed, everything that had to do with Dick Cheney, including his shooting a guy in the face and the victim apologizing to him, the ridiculous war in Iraq, amongst other things like the general shittiness of High School and High School-aged people (Kristen Bell has a fantastic show on Disney+ called “Encore!” where a High School Drama club re-performs a musical they did like 20 years ago. Intentionally or unintentionally, it shows just how stupid High School was as they dredge up the past. It’s both heartening to see how some people have matured and disheartening to see how some have not…). It was awful. So, I’m not saying we should live our day to day outraged about the things I listed above. That would be a terrible society to live in. But, what I am saying, is that maybe before you get outraged and feel the need to post online about it, usually joining in an already growing chorus of indignation, maybe think to yourself: is this really something I should be this mad about? Is this more important than any of the things listed above or the hundreds of other actual tragedies occurring right now in the world? Is it?

Anyways, I’ve rambled enough for now…

(dictated but not read)

Another great show and Carolina rain vs. Portland, OR rain... aka... just another reason I'm so glad to be in Carolina...

Awesome show this past Saturday night with DANE PAGE and WILL EASTER. I had the pleasure of kicking that show off and then sitting back, enjoying a few D9 Brewers Day Off beers and just taking in some amazing music. Wish I could’ve sat back and listened to myself as I was pretty good too, but we just don’t have the science for that yet. Someday. All in all, a great night for everyone. It’s always inspiring to play music alongside really talented people. I can feel how it pushes me to be the best version of myself as a performer, in a good way. I hope to play with these guys again soon. Thanks to everyone who hung out, listened hard (seriously attentive and wonderful crowd. I can’t tell you how much that means to a performer when everyone is locked in. Raises the experience for everyone involved.) and, shit, you’re supposed to do these in threes. Umm. And bought beer/wine? That works, I guess. Maybe people don’t know but the more you buy drinks, often the more the bands get paid. So, drink up in support of local music! That seems like a win-win if I ever heard one.

Now, this might sound strange, but one of the things I love the most about moving to North Carolina (apart from the obvious of not being in Portland, OR anymore… good riddance) is the rain. I get it. Former Portland, OR resident likes the rain? Isn’t that why people get so depressed out that way? Doesn’t it rain for like eight months out of the year? Why the fuck aren’t you sick of the fucking rain after almost 9 years of that?

Well, let me tell you. For those who don’t know, I was born and raised in the great state of Wisconsin where we had these things called Seasons. I loved them. Even, to a certain extent, winter (though I suppose my having a song called “MIDWEST WINTERS” with the refrain of “Those Midwest Winters will suck your soul away” might refute that statement…). And one of the things I loved was rain storms. The sounds are so soothing. In fact, I have my windows open right now so I can listen to the sound as I write this. I enjoy thunderstorms even more, but I’ll take a good rainy day any day of the week. It also makes me feel more comfortable inside where I can work on my computer and not feel like I should be doing something out and about, which is great for someone who is still learning the music scenes out this way and needs to do tons of research/booking online but normally hates to be on a computer for more than a couple hours. I don’t typically enjoy the out of doors, but I actually had a cup of coffee (super watered-down for those wondering how I drink coffee with Meniere’s Disease. I put in like a spoonful of ground for every three cups. It doesn’t taste as good as it used to but I still get that warm, brown elixir every morning and I don’t have to worry about my ear acting up. Meniere’s, for those who don’t know, is an inner ear disorder that affects hearing, balance, vision and just about everything else when it ramps up. To read my blog about my latest Meniere’s attack, CLICK HERE.) out on my patio this morning just to listen to and take in the rain. It was the first time I’ve been out there in weeks.

The reason Portland rain sucks (and all the Pacific Northwest rain in general) is that it’s so light and constant. It basically sprinkles all day, every day for months on end. I prefer my rain to come hard and then get the fuck out (ha!). The rain was so shitty, half the time my windshield wipers wouldn’t even work on it because the drops were so small and mist-like. So, when you have your six hour drive to the next show and you can barely see and the roads are super twisty-turny because of the damn mountains and the highways aren’t properly sloped so your constantly hydroplaning all over the place and for some reason, even though it rains for eight fucking months a year, no one knows how to drive properly in the rain and they keep almost hitting you and you haven’t had any coffee yet since every time you reach for the cup either some asshole tries to hit you because they’re on the phone instead of driving or you hit yet another mini lake on the freeway and nearly careen into the log-hauling truck you’re passing… I lost the point, but it wasn’t fun. You can’t even use an umbrella because it’s goddamn pointless. That’s actually how you could spot new arrivals: trying to use an umbrella, getting wet anyways and then getting aggravated since the misty-bullshit rain is still blowing onto them. Good times…

And that’s just one of the (seemingly endless) things I hated about Portland, OR. Maybe someday I’ll do a top 5 things but I have more important things to do today so… Listen to DANE PAGE and WILL EASTER, drink any beer that D9 brewing makes (especially the Pinch of Salt Salted Caramel Gose) and I’ll see you next week or at the next show. Bradley out…

(dictated but not read)

Top 5 reasons why my brain doesn't work so good right now... aka... singing the exhausted Asperger's blues...

Well, this week has been atrociously crazy. Not that this upcoming week is any different. Which is good, in a way. It means I’m busy, which really is to say that I’m starting to make more money, which is really good. Not sure if I used my commas correctly in that last sentence but I’m too tired to think any harder about it or fix the damn sentence. Which brings me to my top 5 list this week…

Top 5 Reasons Why Bradley’s Brain Doesn’t Work Right Now

 

5) My overall lack of caffeine consumption

One of the things that sucks is my inability to have more than a couple of (watered-down) coffee during the day. You see, when you have Meniere’s Disease (that pesky inner-ear disorder where my tubes can close up or flood and I get to deal with vertigo, excessive hearing loss, vision impairment, increased depression, etc. You know, all the fun stuff…) one of the things you have to do is cut back on caffeine. Caffeine restricts blood vessels so it can spur on a Meniere’s attack. In fact, MY LAST ATTACK was due to over-caffeinating (if that’s a word) and the heat, so I’ve been very sensitive to caffeine since then. But, that also means that when you need a little pick me up, you can’t have it or you risk the worst. Some days, that risk is worth it…

4) Wildly inconsistent meal times/missing meals

Since this week has been so hectic, I realized that a large part of my fatigue is due to missed meals. Being a musician means lots of late nights. But, doing all my office work (booking, poster making, set writing, looking for bandmates, researching new areas, etc.) in conjunction with my music bingo and podcast producing jobs on top of that, also means a lot of long days. All of which is to say, I’ve definitely missed many a meal this week and have had to make up meals around the midnight or so when I return home. Not a healthy/great way to do it and definitely hasn’t been helping me stave off fatigue.

3) Decision fatigue

I talked about this recently in a blog but I don’t remember when, and I’m too tired to look it up. But, my theory on this is that all energy (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual if you’re so inclined) is related so if you are taxing one area, say mental, once it reaches it’s limit, it will start to take from the others, most notably, physical. So, as I continue to struggle to make enough money as a musician (what musician doesn’t?) it makes every decision that much more impactful since it could affect my ability to, oh, you know, pay rent and eat food (another reason my meals this week have been shitty, cheapness). Since there’s no playbook for becoming a successful musician other than (trying to) book as many shows as possible, play in multiple bands for extra opportunities, hustle all day long and hope for the best/a shitload of luck, it means that it requires your brain to actively be involved in everything. Should I be targeting different venues? Should I shelve playing shows for a bit and focus on putting together a full-time band? Should I start recording again so I have new material to promote? If I do that, what happens to my current stock of records? What would I do with that new material? Should I finally bite the bullet and join social media? Should I record more videos so people have new online content to consume? Should I learn more popular covers and try and play more background type shows? Should I invest in my bass equipment so I can join another band that way? WHEN DO I FINALLY GET TO DO SOMETHING CREATIVE AGAIN?!

That is what’s swimming in my head just in the past few minutes. Thinking about, detailing the potential time vs. results, weighing those options, putting together a plan, all in my head takes a lot of mental energy which saps my physical energy. Hence, where I’m at now.

2) Too much “peopling” without a break

Now, most people when they meet me think I’m an extrovert. I love meeting new people and learning about them. It’s fascinating and I think getting to know those around us the reason we’re here on Earth, apart from our special task (mine is writing/telling stories to help people feel less fucked up and alone in this world like I felt most of my life, still do). But, having Asperger’s means that while I don’t necessarily outwardly have social interaction issues, it still is an emotional energy drain (there’s that darn energy thing again). So, when I have lots of peopling to do, I usually try and schedule a day to myself to just crash and watch TV (usually on Sundays to watch football. GO PACK GO!). But, with this week (and the next) being so crazy, I haven’t had a day off in while to recharge my peopling power. I’m running low. But, luckily I have some shows this week which will help recharge the old battery to get me through. But, I’ve scheduled next Sunday as a crash day and I’m really, really, really looking forward to it. Fucking Asperger’s…

1) My cat…

To be sure, I love my cat BUT she’s also a huge pain in my ass… As someone who is out late almost every night of the week, waking up at 5am is not my purview. A typical cycle goes like this: I’ll be out playing or at a show or whatever, get home around 11:30 or midnight, have to decompress from the energy/peopling, head to bed around 1 or 2am depending on how energized/exhausted I am, get up at 5 or 5:30am to feed my cat before she tears apart everything in my apartment in an effort to get my attention/be the biggest asshole in the house (tough to beat me but she does, fucking Catspergers…), try and fall back asleep for a while, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t, then wake up after another hour or so since I wasn’t really sleeping well that second go round, say fuck it, and start my day half-awake and half-dead. Awesome. Thanks Lovey…

So, there you have it. And that’s all, folks…

(dictated but not read)

Who loves Top 5 lists? aka... Asperger's brain dump...

I’ve been so busy lately that I can barely think so I’m gonna make this easy on myself and do some random lists like I used to do. I’m not sure if having Asperger’s makes me more prone to liking lists (which is the way I keep most information stored in my head) or I would’ve been a list-man anyway. Either way, let’s do some lists!

Top 5 times I feel the most “Bradley Wik”

This is a weird category but I was thinking about this the other day. Back when I had a day job, I would constantly feel like I wasn’t myself. For example, the aforementioned day job required me to trade shows where I and my colleagues would all have to dress alike. There we all were in khakis and matching polo shirts. Most of it was standing there yelling at people (since there were so many people talking, normal conversation-level voices would not be sufficient) but when I had to go piss, I’d catch a glance of myself in the mirror and hardly recognized who was staring back at me. Neat hair, polo shirt, khaki pants? Not Bradley Wik. It would crop up in other areas of my life as well, but that was always the most shocking. So here are the top 5 times I feel the most “me.”

1) When I’m performing on stage in front of people

I know what you’re thinking. Why multiple prepositions in that short of a sentence? Why do you have to specify in front of people? People are assumed when you say “on stage.” Not if you’ve played some of the shows I have. I still remember those shows in NYC at 2am when even the sound guy would step out for a smoke. Some of my favorite memories actually… Or, you’re thinking it seems strange that when I’m performing I feel most comfortable, but it’s true. It just feels like home and I’m at my most loose and confident. Even my wife notices a difference when I step up there. For some reason, I need people to watch me be me to be more “me.” I don’t know if that means that I’m a fraud in the rest of my life or what but this is weirdly the #1 answer…

2) When I’m having sex

This should go without saying (or maybe it’s different for others), but I’m the least self-conscious with my pants off. Probably because I have other things to occupy my thoughts (or lack thereof). It’s mindless work, which I love as I can finally shut my overdriven brain off for a moment of peaceful clarity.

3) When I’m watching a Packers or Brewers game

I guess those could be two separate ones but they’re essentially the same. But again, my brain shuts off (apart from trying to figure out the strategy behind the games, especially baseball. My wife is always amazed when I can guess when things will happen during a baseball game. I’ve called so many strikeouts, hits, home runs, etc. over the years. It’s one of the few ways I can still impress her…) so I can “just be” in peace.

4) When I’m pooping

Maybe it’s just me, but I find this to be some of my most relaxing time each day. I savor my poop time. There are no expectations to work or do anything productive other than evacuate my bowels. It’s delicious. Also, with #4 being the best and my favorite number in the whole world (thanks Favre!), I had to give my favorite answer here.

5) When I’m in New York City

Yep. Just whenever I’m there. This would be higher on the list if it happened more frequently. My years living there were the best and every day I wish I was still there. I love living in Charlotte and NYC is not the same as it once was, but being back there last year made me love it even more.

Top 5 Movies I Watch When I’m Sad

1) The Wrestler

Years ago, when we first met, my wife once asked me what character from a movie would I say I’m the most like. I chose Randy “the Ram” Robinson. I stand by that, for better or worse. Probably says more about how messed up my priorities are but I thought the ending was actually happy. He got to go out on his own terms, doing the thing he loved and while being loved. That doesn’t sound sad to me…

2) Get Him to the Greek

I used to watch this movie so much that I could do a good Aldous Snow impression and once convinced (a very drunk, mind you) group of people I was actually British. Then, when I told them I was fucking with them, I almost got beat up. One of them stood up and shoved me. One of them actually took a swing at me, spilling her drink all over herself before storming off. Man, some people can’t take a joke. Good times…

3) The Wedding Singer

This is pure comfort food for me. I actually like the fake song he writes when he’s super depressed. And Adam and Drew are so good on screen together. Plus, Billy Idol cameo? Yes, please.

4) Bridesmaids

Upon first viewing, I didn’t like this movie very much. The advertising really did it a disservice. It’s not a quirky, silly comedy. It’s a full-blown drama with some hilarious scenes (emergency pooping is always funny). Wiig is so amazing in this and everything is better with a little Maya Rudolph. I think I connect with Wiig’s character in a way that maybe is only matched by a few other characters (see above) and I like that. It’s not easy for an Asperger’s to “feel” with other people and she somehow brings that out of me.

5) American Movie

No matter how sad/depressed I am, this movie can always pull me out. Maybe it’s the Wisconsinite in me, but Mark’s unending determination to achieve his goal is magical. I feel a kinship to that. I know his struggles. Maybe too well. But, like Mark, I too have something magical to give the world, whether or not they want it/are ready for it. He did it, so can I.

Honorable mentions: Grandma’s Boy (Linda Cardellini singing Salt-N-Pepa? Yes, please. I’ll take two.), Walk the Line and the Bob Dylan “documentary” “Don’t Look Back”

Top 5 Phil Collins/Genesis Albums

My wife says these are the same thing, and since she's always right, I’m lumping them together. I also didn’t realize how much I’ve spent on Collins/Genesis vinyl over the years…

1) No Jacket Required

This not only has my favorite Collins’ tune (“Sussudio”) but also my favorite song of his (“Take Me Home”). Wait, two favorites? Yep. That’s why it’s #1.

2) Invisible Touch

I probably sing along (or try to, Phil has a slightly better range than I…) to this album as much as any other record I own. Truly a triumph of music making and Genesis at the peak of their pop powers.

3) Abacab

I know you might be thinking: Abacab? Seriously? #3? But, I know that every time I put this on the turntable, I get the unending joy of hearing “Who Dunnit?” one more time in my life. It’s one of my great joys. I still don’t know who or how many drugs convinced Phil to allow this onto an album (assuming it’s the keyboard player’s song. Sounds like a keyboard man’s contribution…) but I’m grateful for each listen. If you’ve never heard this song, HERE IT IS. You’re welcome. Try getting that shit out of your head, ever.

4) Face Value

Would be higher if it wasn’t so sad. It’s a fantastic journey and experience to go on when I’m in the mood. I’m just less inclined on a daily basis to spin this album.

5) We Can’t Dance 

I still almost tear up when I thread this up and “No Son of Mine” comes through the speakers. And then I also have to DO THE DANCE whenever “I Can’t Dance” comes on. Love it.

So, there you go. Lists. How awesome are they? Yes.

(dictated but not read)

Asperger's hates me... aka... I think that's just Asperger's...

I was going to extoll the virtues of music and its impact in my life, but unfortunately, my day (well, two days) were upended by Asperger’s. You see, one of the worst things that can happen to an Aspergerian person (if that’s a thing) is they have to change their plans. This can show up in larger ways, like, say, having to work on your day off (like I did on Sunday, which is now officially football only day even though I hate the NFL and what football has become) or in small ways, like, say, not being able to eat cottage cheese and kiwi after playing a show because we’re out of kiwis; true story. But, the sad thing is that both things are often equal to the Aspergian mind, as illustrated by this Sunday where I had to work on a podcast instead of relax and Thursday, where I had to eat cottage cheese without kiwi since someone ate the two I was saving…

But, this is one of the downsides of having Asperger’s. I’ve noted the upsides a few different times on this blog, and I actually believe having Asperger’s is generally a good thing, like probably 70% of the time. It helps me focus on myself and my art by not caring what others think. It helps me eliminate mindless decisions, as too many decisions leads to fatigue. It helps me focus on tasks with its borderline obsessive nature. But, it also takes the smallest things and renders me in almost complete Aspergian panic mode. Here’s an example:

Tonight, I was at a songwriters meeting. I have never attended a meeting by this group so I had no idea what to expect. My wife said I should be prepared to play a song as they often have members play so they can give notes, give praise or just support each other. I was reticent as I was just attending to see what the meeting and the group was all about. Needless to say, they asked me to play a song. I didn’t want to but obliged. As my turn came up, I couldn’t think of what song I wanted to play because I was so in my head about having to play in the first place. I didn’t want to. I stepped in front of the microphone and gave an intro/backstory for a song I wanted to play and… played something else. I’m not sure why or how I landed on the song. It was a surprise to me and I could barely sing the song as I didn’t know what was happening. This wasn’t the song I wanted to play (or the song I’d intro’d) so I couldn’t keep up with the song. Since the speaker was on my right (my bad/Meniere’s ear), I started to have issues with hearing and worried I’d have a vertigo attack. I played and sang it about as poorly as I had in years. Since I play so often, it wasn’t unlistenable by any means, but it was in no way representative of my abilities and, since I had no idea what was happening, I was only along for the ride rather than controlling the performance. It felt weird. I felt disappointed in myself. I didn’t play or sing well and I should have known to have a song ready. I was angry until I got home turned on the TV to see Deshaun Watson and the Texans score a touchdown in 13 seconds only to see the Saints (whom I fucking hate, I’ll never forgive them for Bountygate and for essentially ending Brett Favre’s career, even though it was on the Vikings…) come back and win. Now, I was more mad about this than at myself for failing to perform to my standards.

My wife asked me why I was aggravated to begin with. Everyone has an off night. I’d been awake since 4am (thanks to my cat), which means I only got 2-3 hours of sleep so I shouldn’t have expected a brilliant performance from myself. But, that’s not how it works. I get aggravated when I have an off night practicing in my apartment. I’ve never expected perfection, but I know what I’m capable of and hate when I fall short. I especially hate when I fall short due to my mindset/Asperger’s. I hate that it can derail a simple thing like singing a song I’ve sang hundreds of times. Or when It makes me have a fight with my wife because I forgot to do something and now I’m just angry at everything. It sucks. But, even though I’m aware of it most of the time, that doesn’t mean I can control it. It still is what it is. It still controls me even when I know it’s happening. Just because you know it’s going to rain, doesn’t mean you can do much besides try and prepare yourself. But even then, it’s much stronger than I often realize and I still have Asperger’s whether I see it or not. Often, I know I’m doing its bidding but can’t do anything to change my behavior. It’s a helpless feeling. At least it doesn’t lay me up in bed for hours on end like Meniere’s…

I wish I had a great moral or ending to this story but it’s just another in a long line of Asperger’s moments. At least I didn’t have a full on yelling at myself, squeezing my head with my fists while my body shuts down and I literally (yes, literally) cannot move for who knows how long; so I got that going for me, which is nice…

Sorry for the short blog, but it’s so late and I’m already so tired. One thing they don’t tell you is how exhausting having an Asperger’s attack is. Although, I doubt that would help anything anyways…

(dictated but not read)

First Show in Charlotte and Top Five Arnold Movies... aka... Just a normal Monday!

Thanks to everyone who joined me Friday Night (is for the drinkers) at Summit Coffee Co.! It was my first official show in the Charlotte area and I couldn’t be happier to kick off this new season of my life and this new chapter in my music career. When I actually sit down to think about it, I feel very blessed to have lived the life I have and to have experienced the hospitality of nearly 10 cities at this point. Chronologically, Horicon/Mayville, WI, Madison, WI, San Francisco, CA, Los Angeles, CA, Seattle, WA, New York City/Brooklyn, NY, Portland, OR, and now, finally, and probably lastly, Charlotte, NC. Each city has welcomed and embraced me and my music (especially New York and Charlotte, seems like I’m an East Coaster at heart). Also, looking at that list, I realize my propensity for moving long distances, including three trips from coast to coast. I hope to never experience that again. As a younger man, it simply involved shipping my musical equipment, books, records, etc. to a FedEx store and flying myself, but as an older man, it’s slightly more involved as I now have years of merch, musical/sound equipment, and even furniture I’d like to keep, to move across the country. I hope, and feel, that this move to North Carolina is my last. All of which is to say, thank you for supporting my musical journey and I hope to see you again soon. It hasn’t been a normal life, but it has been an incredible one, that I’ve lived up until this point. I’m proud to say this kid from a town of less than 3000 people in rural Wisconsin has played hundreds of shows across this great country, sold thousands of records, heard his songs played on the radio (in the U.S. and Europe) and lived more than his fair share of life in his limited time on this earth. So, thank you Charlotte, for welcoming me one more time and I know you’ll be proud of me when this thing is through…

OK, enough of the mushy stuff, why are we here today? (Editors note: I forgot yesterday was Monday due to the holiday, which is why this is a day late) The answer is a question you’ve all been waiting with bated breath for me to answer: what are your top 5 (I love lists) favorite Arnold Schwarzenegger movies?

OK, so maybe you haven’t felt like living your life has been a lie up until this point, when you can finally put your mind at ease about Bradley Wik’s top 5 Arnold movies, but I’m sure you’ve spent many a sleepless night trying to pare down his amazing career into a top 5 list? No? Just me? I’ve literally (cue Rob Lowe from “Parks and Rec” who now owns the word “literally” the same way Wallace Shawn owns the word “inconceivable” from his turn in “The Princess Bride”) lost many hours of sleep on this topic but then again, that may just be a weird, Aspergian obsession that comes and goes. If you’re a regular reader of the blog, you’ll know I love lists, hence:

• My Top 5 Neil Young (and all-time) Albums
• Top 5 Spinal Tap Songs and favorite live shows from Portland, OR
• Top 5 (or 27, kinda) things I should do before I die
• Top 5 albums I fall asleep to
  
  

Well, you get the idea… So, here’s the fucking list:

5) Junior

 

Ivan Reitman directing, Emma Thompson, another Danny DeVito pairing, and wait, buried the lede, a fucking pregnant Arnold? Of course this made the list. Probably, didn’t think it would be in my top 5, but it definitely is. I have to turn this movie on whenever it’s on cable (which is almost never). One of my favorite podcasts (and based off its popularity, many people’s favorite podcast) “How Did This Get Made?” even on gave this movie its blessing by mocking it. It’s absurd, ridiculous and implausible but also hilarious, ridiculous and so damn entertaining. Kind of misogynistic, but dumb enough to get away with it. I wish I was in the room when someone said the words “Picture this: Arnold is pregnant, Danny DeVito is his co-star, Emma Thompson is acting like Arnold looks like Robert Redford and the plot makes no sense, but who cares…” OK, maybe that wasn’t the pitch but it could’ve been.

4) Jingle All The Way

 

This was hard to put this low on the list. I know, given Arnold’s amazing career, how could this even crack the top 5? Well, this is my fucking list, so deal with it. Every year, my wife and I have a list of Christmas movies we can’t wait to watch (which includes all of the new cheesy/shitty Hallmark movies) like “Elf,” “Christmas Vacation,” “A Christmas Story,” “Die Hard,” “The Santa Clause,” well, you get the idea. But, of all the holiday movies, “Jingle All the Way” might be my favorite. Phil Hartman, the Seth McFarlane lookalike in the caroling scene, Sinbad acting, well, insane, Arnold fighting a room full of Santas… It’s all so amazing. A true Christmas classic… Who am I kidding, I mostly just love how Conan did his bits where he would pretend to interview Arnold and the always-cracking-up voice would say “Jingle all the Way!” more times than I can count…

3) Kindergarten Cop

 

This might have been my toughest decision, “Jingle All The Way” vs. “Kindergarten Cop.” But, after intense debate with myself, it came down to the fact that the “Kindergarten Cop” sequel starred Dolph Lundgren, which is awesome, and the “Jingle All The Way” sequel featured Larry the Cable Guy, which also happened…

2) The Terminator

 

I know, I know, how is this not #1? In fact, how is “The Terminator” and “Terminator 2” not #1 and #2 respectively? Well, despite it’s amazingly wonderful and random soundtrack (as a kid, I had a shitty Casio keyboard that had a record feature. But, it was also monophonic, meaning it could only record one note at a time. So, I would hit record, press all the keys as fast as possible and was constantly fascinated by how weird and random the recording playback would sound. But, years later, I realized that those recordings sounded similar to the Terminator soundtrack. Apparently, I could’ve made a lot of money pressing random keys on a keyboard/synth…), the incredibly original screenplay/story and the actors just fucking killing it, there is a movie of Arnold’s that I love more…

1) Total Recall

This movie embodies everything I love about the late 80’s/early 90’s. It has the huge set pieces, the ridiculous but engrossing (and mystifying) story and world-building, the action, the gore, the the-governments-out-to-get-us theme, the weirdness, a.k.a. a mutant with a genius baby growing out of his stomach that eventually gets shot in the head, a thrice-boobed lady and many shots of peoples eyes being sucked out of their heads by the oxygen-deprived Martian atmosphere, the overt product placement (Pepsi, Jack in the Box, Sharper Image, Miller Lite, etc.) and just plain insanity that makes movies teeter on the precipice of amazing/campy. I still can’t believe they remade this movie as it was perfect in its original incarnation. It’s the type of original storytelling that our current movie scene could use. I wish they still funded weird/creative as fuck projects like this nowadays. We could all use a little Arnold, hot Sharon Stone, badass Michael Ironside (as if there’s another kind…), Paul Verhoeven-directed madness in our lives. “See you at the party, Richter…”

Honorable mention goes to: “Terminator 2,” “Twins,” “Predator” and “Conan the Barbarian”

(dictated but not read. Well, this one was kinda read, but not totally, so excuse the msitakes)

It’s hard to get a good picture of me performing as I make a lot of funny faces when I sing. This is about as good as can be reasonably expected…