Your Coronavirus Playlist: Destination Lonely

On January 24, 2020 the world turned upside down. No, it wasn't Covid-19 and the subsequent death tolls that fueled conspiracy theories and turned every idiot on Facebook into a doctor. It was a nervous breakdown, and not of the Black Flag sort.

"Far out, over the edge, filthy, desperate fuzz noise, garage rock 'n' roll from France," was how it was described. It was an apt description of what was unleashed that day. Destination Lonely. Nervous Breakdown. A double album to usher in a New Age. This was the dawning of the Age of Virus.

Voodoo Rhythm Records released this monster. It came from a studio that was book for two weeks. 17 songs came from those 14 days. Two covers were thrown into the mix: "I Want You" from the Troggs, and "Ann" from The Stooges. You knew that, though. Destination Lonely is bound by law to do such things. And while it seems like the band's third album should be a triple album (imagine the thrills), it was kept to a dual release. Two times the fun as the world started coughing and dying.

It was easy to miss this release from the French trio. After all, some other things were happening at the time. The virus was makin' news and introducing terms like "social distancing" and "shelter in place" while "Schizo MF" and "Blind Man" played on stereos for those of us in the know.

Is it a good album? Of course it is. Destination Lonely can't put out a bad release. It just ain't in their blood, Jack. When something opens with "Lovin'," and it's all kinds of fuzzed out, you just know it's all gravy from there. If you'd judge it by its cover (who doesn't?), you'd be tempted to think it is some college-level experimental minimalism masquerading as "something deep and meaningful, man." You'd be forgiven for thinking that nonsense. And while it is deep and meaningful, it isn't pretentious noodling around. It is as described. Filthy. Fuzz. Noise. Garage. Desperate.

And damn good.

You are trapped inside. Concerts aren't happening any time soon. Why not grab something new to listen to? Take a chance on something? You can get it on Voodoo's site, or on Amazon. I don't care where you get it from, just get it. Put it on and watch the world slide into a new traumatizing normal. To quote the song "Day by Day," "Well I came into your life like a spit on a face/I blew your mind I made you really so insane." These guys knew it was coming before you did. The least you could do is give them a listen . . . before you end up dying in some emergency room . . . alone . . . the coughs of the dying mingling with the beeps of various machines. Yeah, that's the least you can do.


 

Slip In In

High school.  Late '80s.  There were a few tapes that never seemed to leave my Walkman.  Slip It In was the first Black Flag release I bought, and it was one of those that stayed in the player.  It matched my mood at the time as the usual high school angst ran through my brain like a lizard dipped in battery acid.

There was a time where every single song on this release seemed to speak to me.  Today, I still reference it.  "Rat's Eyes" actually came up in a conversation earlier this week, which is not surprising with the hell week I've had.  These days, however, I don't listen to it every day or even for months at a time.  I try to have a little variety.  After all, that is the spice of life.

I found that Black Flag has remained one of my go-to bands for those days where everyone seems to be spouting nonsense and nobody seems to care.  It reminds me what it means to be thinking in a sea of what often seems to be brain-dead kelp in human form.  It helps keep me sane.  In the '80s, this release helped me get through the periods, assaulting my ears between classes and on the bus home, where a hierarchy of seats seemed to mirror the social order.  Later, those seats positions would shift.  The losers making ass grooves in the back of the bus are now losers making ass grooves at their local bar, never having the gumption or skills to leave their hometown.  Alcohol fuels them.  Complacency drives them.  They go home to wives they grew tired of fucking four years and forty pounds ago.  They have kids who gather around their feet and cry for the kind of attention daddy never got.  They melt in front of the tube and wait for pay day.  They don't only live to check to check but drink to drink and show to show. 

Slip It In reminds me of that.  Of how good it feels to sometimes not even fit in and how the desire to remain outside of that is not only a good thing, but a healthy thing.  It is survival.  It is the only thing separating you from the animals.  They still value the soothing power of high school football and the hope that one of those underage cheerleaders will forget her panties.  They remember those days.  They don't live them anymore.  There is a sadness to that, but it's not my sadness.  My sadness extends in different directions.  I don't want to relive the past.  I want to survive the future.

Black Flag, on any of its numerous releases, gives me fortification so I can survive.  It gives me firepower and offers promise.  Everyone should have a band that does that.  Nobody should feel like all hope is lost, but some people have gone so far from that notion that they no longer know what hope looks like.  Hope is not a promise of a better tomorrow, but that your favorite CBS sitcom won't be canceled.  Hope is not light at the end of the tunnel, but the barrel of a gun.

"You say you don't want it/But then you slip it on in."  Take what you want from those lyrics.  Just be careful what you're slippin' on in.

Waking Up With Rollins

I woke up with my stomach gurgling. Upset about my daughter being sick, me being sick, and work, I figured it was a good time for some Rollins Band. His music keeps me sane in the worst of times and the best of times ... and in the tough times. Tired of illness and stress. Tired of people pushing med leave. Tired of talking the same talking and walking the same walk and not getting anywhere close to my destination.

In high school, the words and wisdom of Hank helped to put things into context. Black Flag was a constant on my Walkman. It made getting to school less dreadful and leaving all that much sweeter. It made me realize that all the petty shit meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Now, however, all the petty shit isn't petty -- it's what I'm surrounded by. The people who do their best to be the most ignorant. My war, indeed.

The coffee I drink this morning is bitter. I'm slow because my stomach keeps cramping up, and I feel like I gotta puke. I'm going to work to do damage control, because I don't think I can take much of what is being thrown my way, but med leave ain't my way, either. I just don't know where I stand anymore in much of anything.

At least my girl is feeling better. That means the world to me, and that counts for everything. With her, I can shut the rest of the world out and focus where the focus must be. With her around, I don't need to play Rollins Band in the morning.

But she already likes Black Flag, and I hope she comes to the realizations quicker than I did.

I Never Got My Way

Black Flag has always been good to me. The band was there in my teen years and early twenties where my head was a mess of hatred, rage and hormones. Love was a razor, and I constantly cut my throat.

Far too many people say Black Flag went down the drain when Henry Rollins took over vocals. I have to disagree. Yeah, the music changed, but it became deeper. Instead of reacting to it, you understood it ... or at least I did. "White Minority" was gone and "The Bars" replaced it. Both are good songs in their own right, but I'll take "The Bars" any day.

When it comes to Black Flag songs that I think sum me up fairly accurately, it is "Out of This World." Hands down. The irritating pick down the strings, the stream-of-consciousness insanity, the contradictions -- it's all me. "I've got a smile on my face/And I'm never coming to."

This song works wonders on me. I pick up something new in its cadence every time I listen to it. I don't want to say it's magic, but ...

Oddly enough, while I love it, I think it's one of the weaker Black Flag songs. It's nowhere near as powerful as "Loose Nut" or "My War." It is me, though, and I think my friends may argue that, but few have been deep in my head.

Now I'm looking for the sun ...