It was a struggle, and again, Future-Me would love nothing more than to have left me a note telling Old-Me that it would be okay, that I’d find a way to be able to control the things that I worried every day would push me over the edge. Sure, in six months, life would turn around and I’d be in better digs, but right then? It was all way too much for me.Ĭoupled with all of that, I was still getting to grips with my mental state, and though I’d dealt with the more extreme urges of my personality, I was still fighting my brain every day to keep myself above water. Little wonder I keep an eye on him to make sure the drunk motherfucker doesn’t pass out and set fire to us all.Īside from the odd trip home to see people – I was still not on speaking terms with my parents after a rather fractious leaving home, music was pretty much all I had. He eats it, telling me in his Irish brogue, “Ma said that the green bits are the dessert part of the meal.” Of course it is. On Friday nights, there is a guy I bump into in the shared kitchen who makes chip butties with bread that is lined by green mould.
I’ve just split up with my first ever proper girlfriend, am living twenty odd miles away from my chums, in a tiny L-shaped room that contains all my worldly possessions. Life is pretty shit…not wanting to put a downer on it, but at that moment in time, life is sucking the sweaty balls of an obese person who has been doing squats for two hours straight. I’ve literally been living there for a month and I’m in a crappy bedsit above an art gallery at the bottom of Brown Street. I’m twenty years old, have just landed my first proper full-time job, sending bits of paper out for a financial company in Salisbury, the city of my birth. Before I delve into the tracks, I’ll paint a picture of where I was in my life when I heard the (quite frankly bonkers) opening track. There are a number of reasons why this album stands out for me, both musically and personally. As I saw him type on Messenger, no doubt informing me that The Fragile, Downward Spiral and With Teeth had already gone, I replied with four words. When Alex asked what album I wanted, I knew which one I hoped was still free.
#Slipknot blop blop crack
Time and time again, the first crack I’d give a band was one of their odd albums, which most fans would put towards the bottom of their list. Slipknot, was ‘Iowa’, Green Day was ‘Kerplunk’. The first Pop Will Eat Itself album I ever bought was their live album, ‘At Weird’s Bar and Grill’.
I would seek out an album to find my way in, yet time and time again, I’d eschew the popular and pick the outsider. In many regards, it was the same when I was getting into music. Some batshit crazy paint scheme that exists only in the twisted synapses of my brain, some weird blend of the two, but with extra cool stuff. No cloud cover, prime real estate for a fighter plane. Or…there was option B, painted in the colours of Rommel’s desert campaign. Ducking and diving, trying to get a bead on the plucky Allied pilot and take them down.
The first, and most prevalent, was perfect for duelling Spitfires over the Channel.
I used to make Airfix models as a kid and having assembled my Messerschmitt Bf 109 – and only stuck my fingers to the chassis twice – I turned over the box to regard the options for painting. I’ve always done things a little differently.
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