Dave's Addiction (Trip to the Heart of LA)

Just prior to heading off on the World Violation Tour Dave Gahan was holed up for a day in a luxurious suite at the Kensington Hilton International, to face a long line of European Journalists.

"I'm a family man now," Gahan told Melody Maker's Jon Wilde. "I like to go back home and be with my wife and little boy, going about everyday thinkgs like everyoine else. That may seem pretty boring, but a lot of people have this idea that pop stars lead this life of Riley where they're out on the razz every night - that just ain't the fucking case!"

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Fame evidently had its bonuses, but for the 29-year-old Gahan, a married father, it was weighthing heavily on his shoulders. By the time the tour ended, he had changed from the home-loving individual (as he'd described himself) to one who had walked away from his wife and child in search of a different life, effectively mirroring his own father's destructive behaviour, some 25 painful years later.

"Moving away opens your mind," he told Melody Maker's Jennifer Nine. "I needed to get out. I felt trapped by everything that was around me. The last tour was great, we had a lot of success and Violator was huge around the world - and I should have been on top of the world, and I wasn't. I had everything I could possibly want, but I was really lost. I didn't even feel like I knew myself anymore. And I felt like shit, 'cos I constantly cheated on my wife, and went back home and lied, and my soul needed cleansing. I had to figure out why."

It wasn't only his soul that needed cleansing. "After the tour ended, I spent a few months in London and that's where my habit got completely out of hand," Gahan told Q's Phil Sutcliffe in 1999.

"I just packed my bag and split; went off and rented a place in Los Angeles," he confessed to Nine. "During the Violator tour I split with my wife. My next year was really spent doing a lot of soul-searching and trying to find out what had gone wrong with my life, and thinking, to be quite honest, about whether I wanted to come back and do the whole thing - records, tours, fame, Depeche Mode - again. Just tearing myself away from everything that I had really grown up with and known, including my wife at the time, and my young son, Jack, as well... all that stuff was quite painful to me."

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Having positioned himself over 5,000 miles away from his five-year-old son and heir, Dave cemented the move by taking up with the vivacious Teresa Conroy who, according to the Internet Movie Database, had appered in several hardcore pornographic films under the name of 'Terri' before accompanying the band across America as Press Liasison officer on the 1988 nd 1990 treks. 

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Way out west, Dave Gahan got swept in the 'American dream': a large house in the Hollywood hills; the quintessential 'dream machine' - a powerful Harley-Davidson motorcycle... the whole enchilada. "It definitely was more comfortable for me in Los Angeles," he stated. "I fell quikly into that lifestyle, and, for a while, it was great fun."

Free to lead what he later termed as a "very selfish lifestyle", Gahan partied harder than ever; partly thanks to new partner Teresa Conroy's music biz connections, he was welcomed with open arms into LA's established rock fraternity, a select group for whom drug taking, if not necessarily heroin addiction, was almost de rigueur - a dangerous place for a wealthy individual in a highly strung emortional state to inhabit.

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In April 1992, following what was reported by the British tabloid press as being a "messy, year-long divorce", Gahan finally tied the knot with Teresa Conroy. Like Gahan, Conroy was also a heroin user, someone he later termed as being "... a partner I could play with, in all sorts of ways, without being judged, because she was joining in. In fact, she didn't make me take heroin; she gave me the opportunity to try it again. We made a pact early on that I'd never use intravenously; but, of course, being a junkie and a liar, it didn't take long."

The nuptials took place in the somewhat tawdry surroundings of the Graceland Chapel at 619 Las Vegas Boulevard, South Las Vegas, with an obligatory Elvis Presley impersonator acting as guest of honour.

"Of course, everything was plastic - false," Dave confirmed to Jennifer Nine. "They wouldn't even light the candles in the chapel, 'cos they were just there for the show."

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"My wife works in the music business," Gahan told Melody Maker's Jennifer Nine. "At the beginning of Depeche Mode's year off, she was out working for the Lollapalooza tour, the first one with Jane's Addiction. I went out on the tour kind of as a fan, just hanging out. It was different just walking around in the crowd, really not being bothered by the fans at all. I noticed the audience was the same as the one we have, or The Cure - or a lot of other bands, for that matter. Americans really see it all as just new, alternative music. And Jane's Addiction were just the most incredible thing I'd seen in a long while. Sometimes they were really shit, and sometimes they were just so mountainous and fantastic."

In fact, so mountainous and fantastic that Gahan "...spent the year trying to find the sort of music I wanted to be involved with. There was so much really good music coming out of the States at the time, much more so than where it usually copmes from - Europe or London. It felt that what was happening back home - all that Techno stuff - was really boring."

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Martin Gore had barely heard from or seen his errant bandmate since the conclusion of the World Violation Tour.

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"And then when he came back he was Jesus! He was tattooed from head to toe; he was skinny - all the puppy fat had gone; he was incredibly intense."

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When Gahan's bandmates finally laid eyes on their long-haired, goateed, tattoo-covered singer - looking (and sounding) every bit like the American grunge star he so desperately wanted to be, the shock finally sank in.

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"He looked like he'd been living in LA for a year," Alan Wilder pithily summed up.

*    *    *

I

It's so funny for me right now to imagine Dave Gahan falling in love with Jane's Addiction I can't even put it down in words.

I saw Jane's Addiction playing at Rock In Rio in 2010 (on TV, not in the flesh), and they really sucked LOL Perry Farrell looked like a crazy old lady, gripping onto a bottle of wine, with his arms wrapped tightly around what looked like a pair of wasted middle-aged strippers. His vocals were beyond unacceptable, and the whole band sounded like a real mess. I was quite surprised to discover that this band had had some sort of 'cult status' back in the day LOL

But, of course, I've never seen them perform in their glory days, so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.

Given my current emotional state, I can totally imagine Dave Gahan feeling as mindblown by Jane's Addiction as I am by Alice In Chains, and, despite the fact that both bands are light years away in terms of musicianship, I can't help feeling some sort of 'grunge solidarity' with him.

I'm very focussed on that specific period of music history right now, and, as much as it might surprise you, this has actually nothing to do with my newly-discovered love for Alice. In fact, I've been having a thing for grunge music for the last two years, despite the fact that there was no particular grunge band I was really a fan of. It all probably started because Nirvana and their depressing vibes really connected with the way I was feeling back in 2011. Before I knew it, I was only writing doom metal and dark acoustic stuff... very much (extremely much LOL) in the spirit of AIC - only back then I had no idea the band existed e___e'

The reason I have such a fascination for the whole grunge movement, however, is because it happened to be the last step in the evolution of rock music, right before it got dismembered and caged by the consolidated industry. The big explosion of grunge (especially Nirvana) was probably the first ever major industry-driven movement (you just have to take a look at all the hype surrounding Nevermind... and at the fact that all the legendary grunge/alternative bands happen to have an album titled 'MTV Unplugged'), but its origins were genuine, and so was the music. It was probably the last ever music current to originate from a real local cultural scene.

Dave's words can give you a very accurate idea of just how different things were back then...

Nowadays, local scenes are a memory from the past. The organic ladder to success has been destroyed, just like the concept of success itself. Bands performers can no longer play their way to the top, like KISS, AC/DC or Motörhead did back in the day; they literaly go from being nobody to becoming A-list celebrities - often without even having one single album out (see Iggy Azalea) -, and when their hype-driven popularity wears off (it never takes more than 18 months), they are left suspended in the strange limbo of the precoucious has-beens. They feed them with hormones like they do with chicken, artificially inflating them into the top, and, by doing so, they turn the top - their top - into a place real musicians don't want (or shouldn't want) to be in. But don't worry - even if they wanted to, they still wouldn't be allowed.

Cultural trends are no longer born in the underground... or at all. In a scenario of cultural monopoly consolidation like the one we're facing, just a tiny handful of creatives has to provide contents for ALL the cultural industries (and, believe me - they don't have the biggest brains LOL). You just have to see the Billboard Hot 100 or the (identical) awful shit most fashion brands are putting out to understand how it works. For the first time since the end of WW2, there is absolutely no youth culture. No identity for the kids of this generation (and the previous one), aside from fucking smartphones and the uni-reality of the social networks.

How fucked up is that?

II

Dave's story comes to me in a moment when my relationship with the US has experienced yet another twist in its long and complicated history.

For the last couple of years, I've grown used to see LA (and the whole United States by extension) as a gigantic shithole where people are sent to die, stripped off their basic human dignity, prostituted and abused in every possible way. Just reading the name of that city makes me shiver with horror and disgust, and you can't blame me for it. After my two-year experience of living in LA through the Kaulitz twins, I had way too many things to be horrified and disgusted about. I was so angry at the city (and everyone in it) for everything it had done to them; I was so angry at America for allowing it to happen - for causing it to happen with its goddamn cultural hegemony politics; I was so angry at the world... for everything. And man, I swear to God I still am.

I used to fantasize with that horrifying place being swept from the face of Earth; engulfed in a gigantic fireball; sunken in lava. And I did it with no regrets whatsoever.

Now, however, life has just added a few layers of complexity to my scheme of things.

And yes, this time I am indeed talking about Alice In Chains.

They are not the first people I respect who happen to live in the nightmare city (you could find about 100 people worth saving living over there, if you tried really hard), but, for some reason, their music is making it harder for me to just hate it the way I used to (don't worry, I won't stop hating LA any time soon - I don't even think that's physically possible for me). It's not making me love it either (God forbid!); it just reminds me that good and evil are never as neatly parted as religion tries to sell us.

How should you judge, when it's (almost?) impossible to do it all completely right, and yet there are almost infinite ways of doing it all completely wrong?

Right and wrong are always a percentage. And it keeps on recalculating every day.

For Dave, LA was a place of reinvention and self-discovery; a refuge where he could feel free from all the things that were repressing him in his home country. It was also the backdrop to his personal degradation; the witness (and accomplice) to some of the worst and more shameful moments of his life. Was it good or bad? And was the city to blame? Or was he just running away from himself all the time, wherever he was?

And did the Kaulitz twins ever experience any relief for being away from a home country that still seems to hate them more than (almost) anyone on this Earth deserves? Did they ever feel liberated, if only for a second, for being able to walk completely unrecognized among the regular people of Los Angeles, like Dave said? Or did it horrify them because, unlike him, they knew their hiatus was going to be permanent; because, unlike Gahan, they never chose to take a break in the first place, but rather were shot off the rails before they'd had time to reach a tiny part of their potential and transferred to that Hell of a city to be dismanteled in the cruel slaughter machine of the celebrity business? Or perhaps they weren't even allowed to walk outside without the supervision of their creepy handlers? And how do they feel about it all now, from the depth of their German bunker?

Imprisoned and enslaved at home; imprisoned or enslaved abroad. Is there that much difference?

About Jerry Cantrell... I don't know him well enough to weight on his twelve year LA experience. I will just assume that nothing of what might have happened to him down there could be worse than the personal Hell he left in Seattle. Perhaps LA doesn't hurt you so bad when you're American. Perhaps it just depends on the person.

And yet it feels so strange for me to realize that a work of absolute perfection like Dinosaurs was entirely recorded in one of the many rooms where TH were mercilessly raped by a gang of unscrupulous producers. It feels so strange to imagine that, for two years, they shared the same city; they walked the same streets, drove down the same roads, ate at the same restaurants, looked at the same sunsets, shielded their eyes from the same light... Perhaps they crossed paths at some point, without knowing who the other was; roaming the steets aimlessly, taking pictures for a stupid phone app, while their counterparts were writing and recording one of the most awesome albums in recent rock history.

Was it good or bad?

And would I hate the city so much if I hadn't experienced what it feels like to be caught under its wheels? I probably would... or perhaps not so much. Or perhaps I'd be caught underneath them myself if those German kids hadn't showed me each and every one of the evils of this industry with their sad and terrifying history.

Was it good or bad?

...

Don't answer. This is a fucking koan.

III

It's sort of puzzling for me to learn that Dave's legendary Jesus Christ look (which happens to be my favourite Dave Gahan look of all time) was a product of LA. It's so obvious now I know it that I have a hard time understanding how had I never realized before.

Facial hair grows faster and thicker in LA; the spirit grows weary as days go by; the skin dries and wrinkles under the merciless sun; the body shifts shape in unexpected ways; ink flows endlessly through the needles, piercing the flesh over and over, in a vain attempt to regain control.

People come back from LA looking like they've been in outer space, because the human body ages faster there due to the extreme conditions.

Life in LA doesn't differ so much from life in prison.

Or, at least, it didn't for us.

What percentage does that make?

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He came back from LA looking like Jesus Christ...

...because he too died to save us all.

Alice In Chains

How much more literal do you want to get?

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I wish Spotify's AI realized what a huge understatement it's making when it tells me: "You've been listening to Alice In Chains." 

Yeah, right...

If Spotify really paid to artists depending on how many plays they get (which I absolutely do not believe), the guys from Alice In Chains could soon be building their very own international airport on my plays alone LMAO

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Anyway, I'm sorry, Spotify - I'm not going to start listening to Jane's Addiction just because of that.

Instead, I'd recommend you my very own cover of... well... In Chains.

HOLLOW

At this point, I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm obsessed with Alice In Chains.

Surprised? You should be. I am as well.

I never expected this to happen... but the fact is I've been compulsively listening to them since last Thursday, when I first decided to check out their 2013 album The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here - which you might or might not remember for being home to the über-doom-metal lead single Hollow.

Hollow was, in fact, my very first point of contact with the band. I watched the music video when it first came out, following Vevo's recommendation. I had no real reason to succumb to the dictatorship of targeting, but I decided to give it a try, just because I'm always curious to see what modern rock bands are up to. Of course, at that point, I didn't know that Alice In Chains are nowhere near as young as I expected them to be. They are, in fact, almost the age of Metallica (a.k.a. around the age of Marilyn Manson), which probably explains something.

And what happened with Hollow was the same that happened the first time I heard/saw most of the stuff I ended up loving: I didn't like it. I can't say I didn't like it at all - I just dismissed it as some other average prog-metal song in the spirit of Dream Theater or Porcupine Tree... Nothing to be especially impressed about.

Then, there was the issue with the music video. I can't say it's a bad music video, because it's not. In fact, it lives up to the spirit of the song quite well. But it's definitely not the most enjoyable music video to watch. Actually, I found it pretty disturbing (I guess a music video for a song like this IS supposed to  be disturbing LOL). It gave me the same space-claustrophobia I experienced while watching Sunshine back in 2008 (a movie I don't really wish to see again - or perhaps I do now, just because of this song? LOL), and that wasn't a funny association.

But with disgust comes the fascination (or at least sometimes it does), and, good or bad, it was undeniable that their song and video had made a certain impression on me.

A few weeks later, however, I found myself extremely surprised to discover that that strange creepy space thing for prog-metal snobs had managed to get airplay on our local music TV - the one that only plays heavy bands like Metallica when they are promoting Through The Never and AC/DC when they are the soundtrack to Iron Man. My first thoughts were, of course: "WTF?! These guys are getting airplay with the least radio-friendly song of all time?! Somebody must be investing some major money in this thing... And I can't even understand why." I still have no clue of what kind of dark magic was involved in this unexplainable programation choice, but I guess I'll find out, eventually.

My impressions on the song and the video, however, didn't change much since my first Vevo experience. Hearing the music on shitty TV speakers and at moderate volume didn' t help much either... but more on that later.

Eventually, the promo cycle ran its course, Hollow flew off the playlist, and I never thought about it again.

That was until Spotify decided that my music choices were compatible with Alice In Chains' newest album (Targeting! There you are again!) and suggested it to me. I have to admit that the perspective of getting to hear that disturbing song again was strangely attractive, so I hit play.

And there it was, at the head of the tracklist, just as fucking creepy as I remembered it. And there was something cool about it... even though I wouldn't admit it LOL

I sat through a few of the songs that followed... and once again I was unimpressed.

But Spotify kept on insisting, and it creeps me out to admit that, for once, they got it totally right. But, hey, after suggesting me to listen to Adam Lambert and Kansas for months, it was about time for them to get SOMETHING right, wasn't it?

The thing is I finally decided to do things right and solve my issues with Alice In Chains once and for all: grab my headphones and my evaluation notebook and listen to the whole record FOR REAL.

And man, that was one really wise decision to make.

The idea of listening to Hollow with my headphones on was exciting and scary at the same time. 

I only had a few seconds of white noise to prepare before the doomiest riff of all time (with permission of Black Sabbath's self-titled song, of course) stormed in. And, man, was it heavy.

The heaviness of the sound blew me away quite literally. That crystaline production, THAT guitar sound. Holy Jesus Christ.

I didn't feel 'that' thrilled about the strangely ghostly harmonized vocals at first (even though I really love them now LOL), but the overall quality of the production was undeniable since minute zero.

THAT SOUND.

And those lyrics:

Hollow as a mountain

All tunneled and drilled bellow...

The power of that image alone made me shiver. Probably because I had a morbid fascination for tunnels and quarries back when I was a little kid. All the violence involved in the process of making them really creeped me out. Of ourse, I also felt intimidated by the hostility of the mountains themselves, so we can say it's all a pretty long story LOL (yup, I had tons of strange phobias when I was a kid - used to think a bit too much about stuff).

There was something in this song that tickled my deepest subconscious primal fears... And, for some reason, I seemed to enjoy that in a pertty twisted way.

Once it was over, I still was unsure about whether I liked it or not, but one thing was objective (aside from the über-awesomeness of the production and the deliciousness of the guitar work): Hollow definitely WAS a memorable song.

And the sound of the record and I were just about to start a musical love story. That's a very curious phenomenon I've experienced a few times before: liking the sound of a band more than I liked their actual songs. I had a very similar thing with Green Day back in 2004 (with the difference that Alice In Chains kick Green Day's ass into outer space, of course). So, at first listen, I found myself wanting to like the songs on The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here more than I actually did.

Of couse, Dinosaurs is nowhere near being an immediate type of record. It takes some time and patience to get to REALLY enjoy it... but so do most of Metallica's albums, and that doesn't diminish their greatness in the least.

I finished the album with a 5,5 rating (even though I'd give it a 9 if I had to revise it right now - I'll have to do that, eventually) and three essential track picks: the ever-haunting Hollow, the super heavy Phantom Limb and the strangely beautiful ballad (?) Hung On A Hook.

Those three songs were still playing in my head on Friday while I was travelling to the big city, probably because I had spent the entire day with them stuck on repeat. And I still wanted more.

And they didn't want to leave me alone either.

I was destined to meet them yet again, during my usual visit to the record store. As soon as I walked into the 'Hard Rock' department, I saw it. We were meeting in the physical world for the first time. And there it was, staring at me from its five slots on the privileged top shelf, with its bright red almost satanic cover, and that creepy dinosaur skull on the front. Lord, the temptation was so big...

But I didn't do it.

"You don't even like it 'that' much", said that stupid voice in my head. "It's only those three songs you sort of fancy."

And so I walked away. Just like that.

How stupid, heh?

I started regretting it as soon as I got home the next day and gave the album another spin.

Because Alice In Chains ARE awesome after all... even if it's taken me so long to get to know them for real.

They have everything I love about grunge music, taken to its finest extreme. They are much more subtle and skilled than Nirvana ever were (which doesn't mean I don't enjoy listening to Nevermind every once in a while), and they're also much heavier. They've really had a hand for guitar sounds since their early years, and it's only grown better with time.

The crystaline transparence of the mix of Dinosaurs is only comparable to the masterful production of Depeche Mode's Delta Machine, and, just like the latter does with electronics, Dinosaurs sort of makes every other guitar album sound obsolete: distorted guitars dense and well-oiled like butter; acoustic guitars that ring like bells; bass roaring like a furious gang of bikers; drums bouncing like basketballs; mix clean and loud like digital; crisp and dirty like analog... THAT's my concept of what a record should sound like... and I hadn't seen such a brilliant example of it ever since KISS released Monster back in 2012.

Freaking awesome.

And then there's the songwriting I overlooked so badly at first (I'm not even sure why).

Despite the first impression you might get from Hollow, you should know that Alice In Chains are not THAT creepy all the time. Hollow is, in fact, a pretty unique song in their catalog. That's probably one of the things that make it so special.

Dinosaurs is quite abundant in more uplifting grunge/Americana mid-tempo songs that go through a wide variety of moods. And, of course, there is a great deal of killer riffing too. But nothing gets quite as dark as the album opener, if that makes you feel better LOL

A couple of songs (like the aforementioned Hung On A Hook) could be called ballads... sort of.

But, even at their poppiest, Alice In Chains never cross the Dave Grohl barrier of indignity, like so many other grunge and post-grunge bands do. And, even when their songwriting gets dangerously close to Americana, they always have that unexpected chord change that shifts the course of the song in a brand new direction (see Scalpel); that mesmerizing guitar solo (see Low Ceiling... and every song on the album), and they DO use fancy guitar effects a lot <3... They are surprisingly good at crafting ambient sounds, and they also have a talent for melodies outside of the tritone doom metal area they don't often get credited for.

If the members of the band formerly known as Tokio Hotel ever have a future, I hope this is the sonic path they are reborn into.

And then there's William DuVall. Even though I wasn't a fan of his vocals (well, in fact it's a bit inaccurate to call them his vocals, since he and Jerry Cantrell are singing in harmony most of the time) at first, I've grown to appreciate them a great deal... as well as the man himself. In fact, I have to admit I like him more than the band's original (and deceased) vocalist Layne Staley (AIC purists, shoot me now). I know this probably makes me a racist, but I have a strange fascination for black men who play in rock bands (probably because it's a pretty rare phenomenon). I had the same thing with Sepultura's Derrick Green, and even with King's X's Doug Pinnick (which reminds me I should give their self-titled album another chance...). And there was also that man... the one with the guitar... what was his name again? Oh, yeah, right, I think it was something like 'Jimi Hendrix' LOL (In case you're wondering - no, this does absolutely NOT extend to Lenny Kravitz).

By the way, did I mention that DuVall plays rhythm guitar too? Heh. Heh. Heh.

So, yeah, the fact of having a black singer (and rhythm guitarrist) on board is a big plus for me. But don't worry... I like a lot of white rock musicians too! LOL Especially Germans ;)

Talking about white musicians - it was fun to discover that James Hetfield actually considers himself a fan of Alice In Chains. Usually, I don't rely too much on my idols' musical tastes because you never know what you can find in there *ahem*, but, in this case, having James Hetfield's appoval sort of makes me feel supported in this new adventure. After all, Alice In Chains might have had a role in shaping Metallica's mid-90s sound... How cool is that? :D

Now that Hollow no longer feels like a menacing stranger, but rather like a friend I love spending time with, I've had the chance to appreciate what a masterpiece of songwriting and guitar work it really is.

The entire song is actually based on just four guitar riffs, tuned really, really low (just the way I like it :D), and yet it's a symphony of masterfully crafted guitar sounds - thousands of them - so delicately entwined with the rhythm guitar and the vocals it's often hard to even understand where they are... or how many of them are there for real. William DuVall and Jerry Cantrell (lead guitarrist, other lead singer, primary songwriter and only blond in the band) create an incredibly complex atmosphere of guitar sounds that serves as the soul to the rhythm guitar's muscle (honestly, I'm not even sure about who plays what LOL), and yet feels completely unintrusive. The truth is I was pretty sure they were using synths at first... until I realized they weren't.

Even the guitar solo in Hollow is subtle. In fact, it's sort of played in the back, while the heavy riffing takes center stage... and, man, that solo is pure evil :D

The secret to the song's sinister monotonous yet unstable limping groove probably resides in its curious 6/4 size. It only shifts back to the traditional 4/4 during the two choruses - which makes the mood change even more intense. When those power chords finally storm in, it feels like Hell is breaking lose right upon you... and yet there is a certain degree of relief in it.

But you won't get any of that stuff until you turn up the volume... which, in my case, turned out to be a problem, because the mix that got played on TV was barely audible (same thing happened with Depeche Mode's Heaven, BTW), and, at that volume, all you get to hear is a creepy monotonous mess.

Such an injustice for such a magnifficent song. Thank God it's never too late to ammend it :)

...Or perhaps I should thank the Devil for putting dinosaurs here in the first place? ;)


The only important thing now is that, the next time I walk into that record store, this album is coming with me. Period.

Until then, I'll have to rely on Spotify, YouTube and the shitty Spotify mobile shuffle play.

Thousands of hours of Alice In Chains playing on repeat are already happening.

...And I though I could never fall in love with a band again.

How awesome is that? :D

Happy Dark Year

The sun sets on the horizon for the last time in 2013. 

As we prepare to bid farewell to another year, we gather all the things we never want to see again and burn them in a huge gasoline-fueled fire. And, as they burn, the wild flames make us teary-eyed, and the thick black smoke of our bad memories blackens our view a little more, before going up and merging with the black sky above our heads.

We are surrounded by darkness, but we feel fine, and we celebrate. And we display our best Hollywood laughter, as we toast to another black year gone by.

Two years ago it felt like we couldn't make it, but we're still here, and we're getting stronger. We've grown accustomed to life inside these dark woods. We've made this strange place feel like home; we've turned this hell into our playground. And we will keep on fighting.

We have no resolutions for 2014; no plans; no objectives. Our only aim is to stay strong and keep on resisting, blow after blow. We might not win, but we will not surrender. 

Whatever fate has in store for us, we will face it together... And perhaps one day the dark side will shine for us, like the song said. 

But, until then, let's celebrate our one and only victory: the enormous triumph of staying alive.

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Let's have a black celebration

Black celebration

Tonight

To celebrate the fact

That we've seen the back

Of another black... year

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Happy dark 2014.
 

'Happy Holidays from Depeche Mode'

Depeche Mode's official Christmas postcard for 2013. Do I even have to say anything at all? I think not :'D

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I wrote to Benjamin Ebel about a week ago suggesting him to reuse this concept for Tokio Hotel, but I think he was too busy searching the whole internet in hopes to find the hipsterest Christmas greeting available (PS. mission accomplished) to listen to my selfless advice, so, in the end, he just wrote a standard three-sentence 'Merry Christmas' message in their name... without even photoshopping a picture to go with it! Ah... what happened to the good old days, when we got a brand new Photoshop creation EVERY DAY? Gone! They're gone - just like Neon Dogs' future. 

The poor guy(s) overworked themselves to death in the first half of 2013, but there's no problem, because, once again, I've generously volunteered to do the work for them. So, here's my Tokio Hotel Christmas postcard for 2013, 100% free from Photoshop - just like Benjamin Ebel likes it! ;)

Now that's what I call Christmas Spirit! :D

* ~*~*~*

PS. Christmas Eve wasn't as bad as I expected... pretty much as always. Thanks to the good old music in my Christmas playlist for helping me get through yet another Christmas dinner. And the good thing is now I can go stress-free for almost a week. No planning; no cleaning - just the usual stuff... 

...or perhaps not?

Guten Morgen, Zimmer!

Good morning, room! :)

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Less than a week left for Christmas, and I'm anything but thrilled. Right now, all I can think about is that we have a Christmas dinner to organize, and an epic amount of cleaning to do. If I was disciplined enough, I would have probably already started cleaning one thing a day, but I just CAN'T do that, so, in the end, I think we'll have the typical last-minute-cleaning frenzy. It's a family tradition of sorts ;)

As it's already been happening for the last five or six years of my life, I don't really feel like Christmas is coming. I've never been a fan of Christmas, as a concept. I sort of liked it, back when I was a kid, because I could skip school for two weeks, and because everything was covered in pretty lights. But I guess that's the kind of Christmas magic that fades as you grow old. 

We don't even have our Christmas decorations out yet, and, with the fierce gang of kittens we have at home this year, I'm afraid to even think about how we're going to stop them from tearing our Christmas lights and toy Christmas tree to pieces... but I guess we'll think about that later.

The only thing that reminds me of how threateningly near Christmas is is my festive blak & gold nail polish. I'm wearing it this week, as a rehearsal. It blows my mind to thing that, in just another week, 2013 will be over. Was it a good year? Hell, no! But it was certainly better than 2012, and that's already something. 

Anyway, it's still too early for this sort of year-end analysis...

The thing is I'm still dreading my family Christmas dinner, and that's pretty much it.

At least, I hope that we won't be touching the subject of Catalan politics, because the last thing I want is to spend my evening arguing with Catalan nationalists. But, then again, I don't even know if my aunt & co. are still in that league or not, so we'll just see what happens.

The good thing is I'll get to listen to my specially curated Christmas playlist: five hours of awesome music (NO TRADITIONAL or cheesy Christmas songs included) I associate with my concept of what a magical Christmas atmosphere should be. I'll try to keep my mind focused on that, as I prepare myself to get done with another year. 

There's still a lot of work to do, so I have to get going.

Good night, readers. Try not to dream of Simon Cowell's terrifying man-boobs ;)

*Song included in my Christmas playlist*