Only Henry Rollins Can Save Us Now
MP3 (CD quality FLAC available on full GASS site)
Featuring Kelii Compulsive – vocals
Recorded by Tim G
Mixed by Jason Sanderson

All songs written by Ginger
All songs mastered by Jon Astley @ Close to the Edge
Artwork by Harry Waine, graphic design by Vicky Peck

Only Henry Rollins Can Save Us Now

You nearly got away with the things that you did
But you forget I was doing this while you were booking gigs at the
YMCA, I’m an old dab hand
You can stick me in the desert I’ll learn to eat sand
I’ve been down here before, on the floor more times than
Traci Lords, I’ve been treading the boards.
Taking the blows while you were striking a pose.
Finding me feet while you were filling your nose.

Nothing in the world will stop this show.
Nothing in the world will stop this show.
Even death would just see me legacy grow
But first there’s one thing i wanna know

What are we going to do with you?
What would Henry Rollins do?
Before I do something I’m gonna regret, what would Hank do next?
I’m asking you, what the Hell would Mr Henry Rollins do?

Just … cos … some

Jackass said “out of sight is out of mind” you’ll find I’ve got a dozen spiders eyes
in the Back Of My Head I can see right through whatever the fuck you think you’re trying to do.

Okay, so we were friends..that makes it weird..

But not impossible, it just means you ain’t gonna end up in a hospital.
Got to use my head, got to think this through
Now what would someone one smarter than me do?

What are we going to do with you?
What would Henry Rollins do?
Before I do something I’m gonna regret, what would Hank do next?
I’m asking you, what the Hell would Mr Henry Rollins do?

So I tell you what I did, I got online
I got an email address for Henry in no time.
I sat by the Mac and I started to write
Mr Rollins, I said, could I have some advice?
I’ve got this thing I’ve been working on
It’s kind of a problem and kind of a song
It’s in demo form, but can I send it to you?
It’s called “what would Henry Rollins do?”
I’d be honoured to have you appear on the track
And within one hour Hank came back

And this he wrote – quote unquote

“I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THIS THING AT ALL”

Now I know what I’ll do with you
Now I know what Henry Rollins’d do
I won’t do anything I’m gonna regret
What I’ll do next, I’ll tell you kid
Is the same as Mr Henry Rollins did.

I’m gonna dismiss you like a bug on a dustbin lid. Thanks Henry.

We feature two of the recent songs, ‘What Would Henry Rollins Do?’ and ‘Ostracide’ as part of this G·A·S·S lite preview and hope you enjoy them. Six months into G·A·S·S there are 18 new songs available, with another 18 to follow over the remaining six months.

As you’ll see by exploring the site, there’s much more delivered every month than the 3 songs, with eight other boxes of content including 2 new demos per month, videos, podcasts, Ginger’s diary and much more to be discovered.

To upgrade to a full G·A·S·S membership visit: http://g-a-s-s.co/main/membership-account/membership-levels/ or for full details of what the different membership levels deliver, have a look at: http://g-a-s-s.co/main/

We’ve had a few questions from people wanting to buy G·A·S·S for someone else or to receive it as a gift. To arrange membership for someone as a gift, please contact gifts@g-a-s-s.co and we can help to arrange this.

If one was to take all the criminally under rated groups of the 70s, and choose a poster band, then surely Starz would top the list by a healthy margin.

Over groomed for imminent success, this New Jersey powerhouse unit ticked off more boxes than any other underachievers. Awesome songs? Tick. Killer frontman? Tick. Amazing guitar arrangements? Tickety tick. They made three classic albums in two years.

So what went wrong?

Heads have been collectively scratched since the band’s demise at the end of the 70s/turn of the 80s regarding this conundrum.

Maybe it was simply the slightly-too-glam image that ran at odds with the hard rocking music? Looking back at the 70s as a whole, one could conclude that people simply tended to dress a little fruitily, but under a microscope it would seem that Starz came along at the perfectly wrong end of 70s, when punk was growing in the belly of a dissatisfied youth.

The era of garish rock had been superceded by the era of uber-glam disco, and the youth of America began demanding their guitars stapled to a more realistic image. Sadly, the same audience that turned their backs on Starz would have found more spit and attitude in this outfit than any number of pretend US punk wannabees churned out in the same years.

Mixing tough American rock with star charisma and classic tunes, Starz could easily have enjoyed the riches that Van Halen were to go on to collect, and while indiscriminately influencing every big hair band in the 80s, Starz failure was a bigger loss to American culture than their own bank accounts.

Signed to Capitol records in 1976 the classic line-up of Michael Lee Smith (vocals), Richie Ranno (guitar), Brendan Harkin (guitar), Joe X Dube (drums) and Peter Sweval (bass) would record three awesome albums, starting with classic US rock self titled debut, ‘Starz’ (every bit as good as any Aerosmith album), and finally bowing out with the incredible ‘Attention Shoppers’ (pop rock heaven), the band would then begin replacing members before calling it a day on the patchy yet great ‘Coliseum Rock’.

And sandwiched in the middle of all this big-rock action stands the majestic ‘Violation’.

Recorded in 1977, Starz second album is an awesome affair that wastes no time getting comfortable in your collection by kicking off with ‘Cherry Baby’, not only the band’s finest tune but one of the greatest songs ever written. Pop rock is given a new standard with this amazing track. You think you’ve heard good songs, but unless you’ve heard this one then your barometer is working on half battery life.

The delicious vocal stylings of unsung US icon Michael Lee Smith effortlessly luring the listener in, the stage is set for a quality filled 36 minutes of sheer class.

‘Rock Six Times’ follows in heavier style, sketching out a storyline based on a post apocalyptic rock fan’s discovery of an old Aerosmith album. The band are tight, the playing is focused and once again the vocal delivery stands up to any singer in the history of American rock music.

‘Sing It, Shout It’ treads the same boards as the most rocking tunes of Boston, Journey etc, and sits perfectly within an album intent on exploring the entire spectrum of US rock up until this point of origin. This track in particular brags the talents of guitar duo Ranno and Harkin, blending Aerosmith’s taste with the Eagles’ flair, as well as proudly presenting another hit-that-missed chorus the size of Texas.

‘Violation’ picks up on the post-apocalyptical storyline once again, with which the album is VERY loosely based, in its ‘decree by committee’ subject matter and tough musical performance. Jack Douglas’ sturdy production takes on Bob Ezrin proportions here. Like I said – quality, man!

‘Subway Terror’ builds the menace as the lyrics go from politically themed to dark and dirty in a tale of a serial killer that rides the subways looking for easy meat. The difference here is that the victim is male, and as the protagonist politely informs him to ‘please tell his family he won’t be home tonight’, one can’t help but shudder at this modern take on a largely misogynistic parable.

It is worth mentioning here that, while Michael Lee Smith is almost untouchable as a singer, as a lyricist he has very few peers. Cutting, touching, funny, intelligent and often just downright filthy, the man straddles the line between poet and rock God whilst never finding the need to take his art too damn seriously. Imagine Bon Scott and Dave Lee Roth combined with movie star good looks and you’re getting warm.

‘All Night Long’ drifts into an almost Allman Brothers groove as it sleazes lazily along, the album then switching from swing to classic 50s bop, with ‘The Cool One’. Surely the defining moment of Smith’s entire raison d’etre, this tale of love at the drive-in savours the line “she reached over and she squeezed on my rocks, I lost it all in the popcorn box”.

Who writes like this anymore? And why the hell not?

‘S.T.E.A.D.Y’ returns to the bi-polar storyline as it mixes up rhythms, tempos and generally throws the listener around like the poor unfortunate in this cautionary tale of enforced sobriety as inspired by George Orwell. As powerful a rock workout as a lyrical masterpiece, no song more beautifully illustrates the timeless quality of this band.

And in fine melancholy style, the album closes with ‘Is That A Street Light Or The Moon’. Sombre and string laden, it is the perfect way to end an album of almost schizophrenic rock’n’roll logic.

Man, what a band! What an album!

And while it is in serious doubt that you own anything this good, what should not be in question is the urgency in which you find this album and add it to your collection right now.

P.S. And while you’re at it, track down a copy of Smith, Ranno and Harkin’s next project The Hellcats, featuring the astoundingly great song ‘Auto Erotica’. You deserve it.

[Editor’s note – Starz are one of the bands referenced in ’29 Times The Pain’ that Ginger has since had the pleasure of joining onstage. In 2009, Michael Lee Smith joined Ginger and Friends at the Hollywood Viper Rooms for a runthrough of Wildhearts classic Loveshit.

In 2013 this was followed with Starz first ever UK show, the band supplemented with Ginger on bass and one time Clam-Abuser Alex Kane on guitar.]

Soul Asylum, Hang Time, 1988, Columbia

Before he dated neurotic actresses and strapped an acoustic guitar around his chest Dave Pirner was the coolest motherfucker to wield a low-strung telecaster who isn’t called Keith Richards. And before the puke-inducing ‘Runaway Train’ Soul Asylum were arguably the best live band in America.

Hard to believe? Read on, dear reader, read on.

Inspired by Husker Du, The Replacements and a healthy dose of country music, Soul Asylum would drag themselves around Minneapolis for seven drunken years after forming in the early 80s until the recording of this, their shining moment is a history of spirited, if semi-shambolic recordings.

Releasing three albums on the indie Twin Tone label, the band would continue to find their studio legs, often stumbling on gold, but largely never able to capture the base fury of their live shows. 1984’s oddly titled ‘Say What You Will, Clarence… Karl Sold The Truck’ cobbled together from various sources came with suitably varied results, while ‘Made To Be Broken’ and ‘While You Were Out’ (both 1986) hinted heavily at the shape of things to come.

Signed to A&M in 1988 the band would release this classic album, and although they would release another album on A&M (’And The Horse They Rode In On’) disappointing returns would see band being dropped from the label and picked up by Columbia where they would record the double platinum, and far inferior, ‘Grave Dancers Union’ before fading in apologetic style while attempting to recall what made them so fantastically essential.

Shame then that the world remains, by and large, blissfully unaware of ‘Hang Time’, an album that should be in the collection of any serious music lover.

Bursting into action with ‘Down On Up To Me’, the opening track sees the band in quasi Led Zeppelin territory with a huge, spluttering riff tumbling into harmony laden chorus, a style cannily ‘borrowed’ by many a band in years to come, including The Wildhearts, and one that still packs a weighty roundhouse to this day. Such is the confidence displayed in this opening track that it’s impossible to deny the bold presence and authenticity of a group absolutely on top of their game.

Almost supernaturally aware of themselves, the second track, ‘A Little Too Clean’, almost acts as a jaunty bridge between the killer opener and the hair-on-end brilliance of ‘Sometime To Return’. Although a live favourite with the ability to strip paint from the walls, the studio version admirably captures the break-neck beauty of this absolute thrill ride of a track (which contains one of the greatest rhyming couplets ever: ‘throw away your calendar and saddle up your salamander’).

With hooks fully implanted into the listener’s skin, it is with almost brazen moxy that they unleash their finest moment, the divine ‘Cartoon’, a song so perfect that it should awarded its own place in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. The twin vocal attack of Pirner and fellow guitar slinger Dan Murphy is simply shiver-inducing in this supreme slice of power pop guaranteed to make a fan of the most bone-headed of critic.

Go on, try to dislike this song! Told you, it’s not possible. Give in.

The mood is darkened for ‘Beggars And Choosers’ (let’s face it, after ‘Cartoon’ the mood would be darkened by The Archies ‘Sugar Sugar’) but the spirit fades not one bit as the boys lay into this slice of vicious pop like their livers depend upon it.

Side one (imagine it’s an album, even if you must buy it on CD, or worse still, download it) is neatly tailgated by the sumptuously gorgeous ‘Endless Farewell’, where Soul Asylum get to flex some sensitive muscle within the guitar onslaught, perfectly illustrating the point that this band bare scant relation to the outfit that would score a No.1 hit with the soggy acoustic-based mushy drone that is ‘Runaway Train’, even when tackling sensitive numbers such as this one.

Side two opens in classic style with the swooping intro of ‘Standing In The Doorway’, a track so awesome that the only thing more awesome is the potential to step over awesome songs in such a jungle of awesome songs, as this album is often in danger of doing. Taken away from its moorings ‘Standing In The Doorway’ would qualify as any normal band’s best tune.

As would ‘Marionette’ with its Queen-like opening stabs and lilting melody. In fact, amid the ferocious guitars the main theme here is the consistency in the songwriting. These gems are no cobbled-together-in-rehearsal type affairs, oh no – more Simon And Garfunkel-got-into-the-medicine-cabinet-and-discovered-severe-volume.

‘Ode’ drags itself into the party laboured under the weight of its own lurching guitar riff, while ‘Jack Of All Trades’ pushes festivities into third gear and doles out the speed. And after such an intense combination salvo the album adopts the wise approach and settles into a lighthearted, bluegrass groove with ‘ Twiddly Dee’ before launching into its closing statement with venomous glee. ‘Heavy Rotation’ sounds exactly as you’d imagine. Every element of the album is thrown into the pot for this final cheer: psychedelic vocals, thumping staccato riffs and sweet discord huddle together in a barbed wire nest, screeching out the end until finally taking flight on a mighty bed of noise.

And then it is over. A heavy meal that takes the consumer some time to digest afterwards, but one that feels so damn good going down that pause is not an option.

‘Hang Time’ represents a time in underground American music where the rules were still being written and albums, as a result, often revelled in a gloriously sprawling lack of coherence.

Where huge rock training sessions rubbed shoulders with blatant pop fancy without fear of audience alienation.

Where the industry hadn’t yet carved out neat sections of society and named them ‘markets’.

Where songwriter and band shared the same van.

Where guitars were still exciting.

Where style was still about personal expression.

Nostalgia can take the mind part of the journey but the rest of the trip needs a soundtrack, songs that last the test of time, fashion and hype.

‘Hang Time’ is such an album, and Soul Asylum were such a band.

You owe it to yourself to own this one.

ICE – I’d been given a brief to write some pop/rock songs for a Japanese artist, something that sounds like Ginger. I penned a few songs (I’m sure we’ll be sending you the others in due course) and the artist didn’t like them because they were too melodic and sounded too much like The Wildhearts. This has happened a few times, once for a proposed movie soundtrack where the director insisted I write something as he was a huge fan (No Way Out But Through), then complained that it sounded too much like me writing a song for a film. This is why I don’t write for people very often. This song was recorded with Jase Edwards.

THE JACKSON WHITES – This is a home demo that I made of The Jackson Whites, the first track written for Chutzpah!, in New York City, 2008. This was before bringing it to the band, where we made a further demo of it in Finland, recorded by our manager at the time, Virpi, which also featured standard tuning. The decision to drop the tuning was made in Denmark as we were actually recording the album. So much for demos, eh?

Download Ice and The Jackson Whites

Ostracide
MP3 (CD quality FLAC available on full GASS site)
Featuring Jon Poole – bass, Denzel – drums, Chris Catalyst – guitars and vocals
Mixed by Kevin Vanbergen, mastered by Jon Astley @ Close to the Edge

Ostracide written by Ginger,
Artwork by Rona Innes, graphic design by Vicky Peck

Ostracide

Lady liberty sits in the corner
She’d open up but she don’t wanna
I hear tell she could set the well on fire
She got a boy and he got a vision
They don’t need their own musicians
Now all of mine turned into guns for hire

I’m in the picture
Though we don’t seem to talk no more
It’s complicated.
I guess someone’s gotta be the bad guy after all.

I can’t make you care
And miss me when I’m not there
or even call me on the phone
But if you want to talk I’m home
Call on me I’m always home

At the end of the day, people are gonna be people
You can’t change that
Oh, but how you react is your business
Better leave ‘em to get on with it

Hickey Man he wants to be famous
Going on his Facebook status
He’s got skills but lacks imagination
But there’s… two sides to this boy wonder
As he applies ‘divide and conquer’
And gets twice the problems in the making

At the end of the day, people are gonna be people
You can’t change that
Oh, but how you react is your business
Better leave ‘em to get on with it

At the end of the day, people are gonna be people
You can’t change that
Oh, but how you react is your business
Better leave ‘em to get on with it

Dir Takashi Miike

Anime comic brought to brutal life by Japan’s most brilliant director.

From the fevered toolbox of Japan’s most consistently astounding director, this is surely the crowning glory in Takashi Miike’s bizarre canon of unique creations. Shredding the nerves with breathless pacing, fantastic characters and the generous reward of copious bodily fluids, not all of which are red, Ichi contains more highlights than one is able to take in on a single viewing, making this an essential purchase designed to be worshipped many times over.

What is basically a cat & mouse caper between pain loving gangster Kakihara (the always brilliant Tadanobu Asano) and sexually repressed super killer Ichi, this ultimately plays like a twisted sketch show with an uncommon interest in human suffering.

A subplot involving Yakuza boss Anjo and a hefty stash of missing yen acts simply as vehicle for the supernatural, masochistic force that is Kakihara, one of cinema’s most colourful villains, to perform some extreme methods of torture on both himself and others. In one particularly eye watering display Kakihara is seen cutting his own tongue in half by way of apology to a gangland boss, while in another he forces a sharpened tool repeatedly through the face of fellow mobster suspended by flesh hooks.

Extreme? Not at all.

Elsewhere we’re treated to a woman beater being sliced in half longways.

Extreme? Just getting warm.

How about the confused Itchi lopping off a girls leg before slicing her neck open as she hops around her apartment spraying claret all over the walls?

As safe a bet as it is that you haven’t seen anything like this before, Ichi The Killer crams so many novel ideas into a couple of hours that you wonder if you actually dreamed some of them. For nipple slicing, gangster dicing, face opening, hand munching, arm ripping, artery spraying fun look no further than this wonderful Japanese oddity, guaranteed to leave you cheering in bemused admiration.

Film: 10/10
Splat-ometer: 10/10

DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978) 126 mins, USA, Italy

Dir George A Romero

When the earth spits out the dead, the dead go shopping.

When Romero made this, the first genre horror ‘super-movie’ it’s warming to think of him knowing what an impact it would have on popular culture, how much it would influence and establish the zombie genre and how prophetic it would remain as a summary on greed, excess and consumerism. Still, it wouldn’t explain how he has managed to make so many terrible recent follow ups in the ‘Dead’ series.

We digress. Let us, instead, bask in the glory that is arguably the high point in career that has inspired more than most other directors could lay claim to.

In case you’ve spent the last 40 years living in space it goes like this, the earth is overrun with the living dead, flesh eating zombies. Civilization is in chaos, society is in mass panic, and a solution from the authorities looks unlikely to be forthcoming any time soon. In a bid to escape the escalating tension a shopping mall becomes a secret hideaway for two SWAT team members and two television station workers. But their sanctuary is about to be invaded, by the living and the dead.

Deliriously entertaining and absolutely chock-a-block with Tom Savini’s groundbreaking special effects Romero’s classic serves up the good stuff with multiple messy head shots and some awesome flesh ripping. No-one does flesh ripping like Savini.

The second act settles into cruise as our four central characters make themselves at home within the luxury of the empty mall while the zombie hordes are kept at bay. That is until a gang of militant bikers get the same idea and suddenly our stowaways have a new threat to their safety.

The third act is a dizzying compilation featuring some of horrors fondest set pieces as the final battle for survival takes place. And while it’s obvious that not everyone is going to make it Romero still finds space in that big heart of his for a relatively happy ending.

Film: 8/10
Splat-ometer: 7/10

Download G·A·S·S· podcast month 6 [54:44] MP3

Click the diary image for gallery version

23/07/14 – Wednesday

Oh, today was much more like it, thank you.

New pens, lots of unhealthy snacks and a day of guitar playing madness. The Halloween show went on sale to GASS members only (for 48 hours) and they’ve already bought half the bloody tickets!

Great hearing the songs fleshing out. Oliver is being amazing on this session. Tireless and very nice, he reminds me of the super engineers that were around in the late 80s/early 90s, most of which went on to be producers in their own right. I predict great things for Oliver.

Great day, great work and some absolutely amazing guitar sounds. I sleep sound, so much that I forget to lie down and wake up sitting up in bed. Still, it seems to work well.

24/07/14 – Thursday

Wake up to the news that Courtney has scrapped the idea of a Hole reformation. This puts me in a great mood, which is a good frame of mind for a day of singing.

First song goes well, a spite-filled Geordie rant called ‘Toxins and Tea’, which a brass quartet turn up to add that magical thing that brass adds to any song. It’s great fun to get them all to yell ‘wanker’ in the song too. My camera runs out of battery so I’m unable to film any of it, but the memory will have to suffice.

Then my voice turns to shit. Well, not compete shit, I just lose all tone and am left with a raspy yelp that has to suffice as we record vocals on a song called ‘Don’t Stop Loving The Music’, a track rendered far less poppy than intended due to the smokey drawl that replaces any hopes I had of copying Steve Perry.

No doubt about it, the problem hampers the session. Looks like my day with the family won’t be happening tomorrow. Back to being two paces behind schedule.

25/07/14 – Friday

Get back on track, or at least as on track as time will allow, and by the time Jane and Taylor arrive, we’ve completed 90% of the tracks, and only fatigue (and inebriation) stop play at the very end of a very long day.

A quick couple of glasses of wine and about 3 minutes of a movie, with Jane, signal bed time. Bushed, beat and ready for a break.

Only tomorrow we’re going to spend a few days with all the kids, so a break won’t be happening any time soon.

26/07/14 – Saturday

Travel day. Early start. Get kids, check into hotel, swim, go to see Planet Of The Apes at the flix. Taylor is scared then bored – an accurate review right there – and I leave the movie early to take him home, leaving my cap in the movie theatre. I will spend the next 3 days trying to locate said lost hat, but the staff in the cinema are just about as helpful as diarrhoea on a bride’s wedding day. In fact this attitude will be a recurring theme for our entire stay in Boldon.

27/07/14 – Sunday

No vegetarian breakfast available? Surely you could just design one omitting all the meat from a Full English? Oh Boldon Quality Hotel, you are a lovely place to hold a wedding (as the daily matrimonial armies would indicate), but your staff are, at best, ill-equipped at dealing with basic problems, and at worst a thorough worry.

Later, a barman will inform me that the hotel have no water. No water?!? Not a bottle on site. Astounding.

Not half as astounding as the two (count ‘em) assistants sent to deal with a locked door to the adjoining room we are booked in to. The door opens from the occupants’ side. On our side there is no handle, no keyhole – just a large wooden door. It takes the two hapless girls a good ten minutes to struggle to find a key that opens the no-lock in the door.

Tomorrow we will endeavour to spend as much time out of this place as is possible.

28/07/14 – Monday

The heavens behave themselves, and the rain that ruined yesterday’s airshow stays at bay. As do the pillarbox red drunks that effectively ruined a scenic open-air music festival by the sea. Well, those and the oddly annoying atonal warbling of Heather Small.

Decide that today will be spent in the company of immediate family as my sis, mum, and nieces join us for fun and frolics by the seaside, culminating in a costly blast around the fairground and a trip to the supermarket where the kids are given free rein to buy any party crap that they can keep down. Party night in the hotel, and the debris left in the morning would have done Led Zeppelin proud. Nice one kids.

29/07/14 – Tuesday

Leave the North East with mixed emotions, but feeling a lot more settled as we arrive back at Chairworks studio to finish off vocals on the tracks we started last week, until we find that current road works have cut off all power to the studio. Sweet.

Eventually, electricity is returned and Chris Catalyst hammers through his parts like a pro. Gonna get the kids on the songs later. I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of swearing on daddy’s new songs!

Never work with children or animals, as the saying goes, and with good reason. The weather takes direction better. Still, they all finish their sweary, over-eager performances with little signs of nerves or reservation. Jasmine impresses the most with an angelic solo section, complete with harmony. She’s a natural and will do great things. Jake gives so much punk rock that he loses his voice and Taylor is hilarious – yelling ‘wanker’ with superhuman glee. Politically correct parenting? You’ve come to the wrong recording session mate.

It’s a long and very draining day that I bid goodnight to some 19 hours since it kicked off.

30/07/14 – Wednesday

Woke to screaming. Apparently there’s a tarantula in the kitchen. On further investigation, the truth reveals a very large garden spider frantically attempting to pull itself free from another spider’s web, which has it held fast by the foot. And then a remarkable thing happens.

Seemingly strong and presumably able to escape its predicament, the spider loses footing on the ceiling and hangs helpless by its one trapped limb. Almost automatically it begins twitching in frustration and then, with a series of tics and leg movements, the helpless arachnid assumes the death position – all legs curled inwards – and dies. Just like that. gives up on its curious situation and decides to give up on life. It was so strange to see the lack of survival instinct that we as humans take as a natural part of our design. What did this thing actually die of? Auto-suicide?

The strange display stays with me for the entire day, and will no doubt follow me around for the rest of my life.

After a trip up Abraham Heights, and a private wander around the caves, I drop the kids off at a family wedding in Derbyshire and return the rest of mine home. Still haunted by the spider’s death and unable to avoid the imminent absorption into despair that threatens. The Dog is strong this month. Resistance, it appears, is futile and naïve. This is how it is for me.

31/07/14 – Thursday

A day to get packed for the family holiday, get the podcast recorded and film the video for the new GASS competition. With a sack of anvils following me around. Hey ho, let’s at least give it our best shot, eh?

A spur of the moment return to Facebook for a Q & A session lays to rest a few ghosts and rumours, as does a chat to CJ – which has been long overdue. As usual, it appears that the problems stem from bored outsiders with an overinflated sense of importance.

By the time I record the podcast I’m thrust deep into a huge depression that renders the recording dull, manic and – ultimately – worthless. Still, I decide to issue this sad documentation on the hunch that it will give comfort and solace to fellow sufferers, and maybe illustrate the helpless nature of this illness to outsiders unaffected by its wretched torment. And no doubt it’ll give a few heartless bastards more ammunition with which to fire at my open target. [Editor’s note: this podcast was not the finally released version]

Filming myself spray painting the logo on a disused railway wall is done on total autopilot, and I return home to a delicate atmosphere caused by sweeping moods, surely the absolute worst result of this awful affliction.

01/08/14 – Friday

Two hours’ sleep is made bearable by Tramadol, a drug issued for my back pains but, on which, sleep is a tattered and fragmented assault. Handy when one needs to sleep light for a very short while.

Traffic, dawdling and a lack of planning (due to simple lack of time in general) sees us missing our flight to Minorca, meaning we must return home until tomorrow, where two seats have been located for the next flight. The dog has its teeth in deep by now and I simply don’t care if a third seat is found, feeling, as I do, like a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and solitude could provide any joy that a beach and sunshine could do.

A remark about my voice being “shit compared to what it once was”, the penalty for returning to the thorny path that is Facebook/All Things Wildhearts, sucks any possibility of resurfacing from this murk and I accept defeat as my default response. If only people knew how close I come to ending this all on a regular basis, and how absolutely steel my reserve as I make it through another day.

People are enjoying the Courtney duet on this month’s GASS playlist. I’m relieved. In fact, all the music has been positively accepted this month. It is this that talks me down from the precipice today. Again, if people only knew how much their kindness affects things…

02/08/14 – Saturday

Arrive at Manchester Airport where a third seat on tour flight is located. There are some wonderful people on this earth, and the lovely Christine of Thomas Cook is certainly one of them. As I continue to fight the sure to sleep, writing this on the plane towards Minorca, I’m exhausted and confused and unsure of myself and my future. I am leaving myself open to the whims of the universe and hoping that she will provide wisdom and solace. This empty shell has nothing to lose. And so I submit freely myself to the chaos of improbability and chance. We could go down right now and I am absolutely prepared to meet my fate.

Get to the hotel, where the mood is about to dramatically change. We pick up the key to our apartment, number 555 (I am later assured that had we arrived yesterday, as scheduled, we would have most certainly not been given this room. The universe is at play in the most mysterious of ways once again). On opening the door, the view strips me of any angst, stress, frustration and despondency. As I look out on the perfect sea view, complete with hour glass sand and turquoise sunburst water – framed perfectly by majestic cliffs – I can barely remember what anger feels like.

Ah, so this is why people go on holiday.

03/08/14 – Sunday

Alarm set for 5.55 to catch a sunrise that the houses and trees will deny me, it’s enough to catch the morning chill slowly being burned away by evasive sun. the smell of fresh pines and the birdsong, like an orchestra of flutes, more than make up for lack of morning colour spectacle. Anyway, I’m on the search for water. Like fools (or tourists), we gamely stocked up on liquor, snacks and a few bottles of water that we consumed during the night after waking with the thirst that the aforementioned liquor guaranteed. And snacks? With three huge meals a day, I doubt that even the huge red Brits peppering the beach have room for extra munchies.

Being entirely unfamiliar with holidays and the like, I give sunbathing a bash, taking a nap on the beach – palm tree, lounger, the lot. I’m thinking I’m passing myself off as a regular sun worshipping pro until I wake up and realise I’ve slept with my hands linked on my belly. I will suffer the indignity of sporting a white wrestling belt design as I desperately try to match up my tan during the duration of my stay.

Honestly, what a twat.