7 Days To Dudes: "Reminded #1"

The Voices Of Fessey Park was a short-lived vocal quintet comprised of Brad Jones and myself. Our only paying gig was on Tangerine, our existence called forth into being when I made a late-night decision to do an a cappella arrangement of a song called “Reminded #1.” We disbanded shortly thereafter.

TVOFP is the only fictional element of the song, unfortunately. The rest of it was culled directly from countless ‘morning after’ conversations between my first wife and myself that occurred in the house we shared in Nashville, circa 2005. These talks were generally the product of a misunderstanding, namely my own inability to comprehend exactly why the Olympian drinking binges that I regularly undertook with my friends made her feel unsafe and alone. I could never get my head around the fact that, when I was epically inebriated, I was basically useless and unavailable to her. When the topic arose I would suggest that, at these unfortunate times, she should simply function as she might have before we were together. When she would point out the fact that she married me in order to avoid having to function the way she might have before we were together, I would roll my bloodshot eyes and make an insensitive comment. At this point she might tear up. Or leave the room.

After a brief reprieve, I would change tack and attempt to reassure her that my excessive consumption had nothing to do with her. That it was just something I had to do occasionally to get back in touch with myself. That, in fact, it reminded me of the horrible hole I might have dug for myself had she not appeared in my life. That, in a roundabout way, my drinking was actually a tribute to her goodness and grace.

It pains me to attribute such a pretty song to such blatant narcissism. But “Reminded #1” is basically a first person account of addiction, and addiction is basically a highly evolved form of narcissism. If you’ve ever wondered why artists often seem to do their best work during their most fucked-up periods, remember that most artists are born narcissists who might excel to great heights when given permission to indulge themselves freely. It is their most natural state of being.

I used to say that I would never regret anything. Why bother? Everything that happens in life is useful experience from which some kind of wisdom can be gained. But that is only half the story: You can learn something from any experience, but you can never reverse the consequences your actions have on other people. Those consequences take on a life of their own, they move away from you and they are gone forever.

Some things are worth regretting, if only to ensure that you don’t repeat your mistakes. And there are things that I deeply and most definitely regret.