Here’s something all you bloggers out there might want to keep in mind: If you’re going to dedicate one day a week to a specific type of post, you might want to remember to actually write that post on the day you specified.
Anyway, yesterday was supposed to be “Tuneful Tuesdays,” where I share a song that’s either helped me deal with my depression or does a good job of expressing how a depressed person might feel. Obviously, I got so caught up in what else was on my mind that I forgot to mention any song altogether. So please accept my apologies as I present “Tuneful Tuesdays” … on a Wednesday.
Unfortunately, most Christians today only know of King’s X for how far its members have distanced themselves proclaiming any kind of faith. Bassist and lead singer Doug (or dUg or however it’s spelled now) Pinnick is now a professed homosexual and agnostic. Guitarist and sometimes lead singer Ty Tabor seems to still be a Christian, but called the Christian music industry “vile” a few years ago. And drummer Jerry Gaskill was quoted in 2012 as saying, “There was a time when Christianity was a part of my journey. There was also a time when drugs were part of it.”
As a result, it’s not exactly cool for Christians to say they like King’s X anymore. While I certainly haven’t been a fan of every album the group has produced, though, they have churned out some excellent music over the years. Their past two albums – Ogre Tones and XV – were excellent. It could be argued that the songs on Dogman are not the group’s best collection as a whole, but I think as an album it makes the most definitive statement of how explosive King’s X can be.
Mood-wise, the album might as well be called An Ode To Depression. From the title-cut opening track on down the line to the Jimi Hendrix cover “Manic Depression,” happy, go-lucky sentiments are scarcely to be found. These brooding emotions come to a head in the heavy, atmospheric “Cigarettes,” in which Pinnick sings, “Sometimes I think the pain blows my mind.” The bass is mixed super-deep, the guitars are a wall of sound, and the drums are crashing. This album actually sounds like depression.
As someone who is recovering from depression, then, why would I still want to listen to it? Well, sometimes you just want to know that someone understands. Has the pain ever blown my mind? You bet it has. And even though I think Pinnick is a fallen and bruised soul right now, he made a statement in the June 2013 issue of Bass Player magazine that I thought was particularly insightful:
“I come from a dark place, and there are people that come from that place that understand that loneliness, feeling like you’re worthless and nobody cares. But you’re not angry and you don’t want to beat everybody up and scream. That’s the kind of stuff I write.”
This is where I could say something cheesy, like “I pray for dUg Pinnick…”, but I can’t honestly say I remember him in my prayers every day. Whenever I hear a King’s X song (and the likelihood is high, considering how many I have on my iPod), though, I do think of that place he’s describing and where it’s taken him in life. And I pray for him, not because I pity him or look down on him, but because he’s on a journey just like the rest of us, a journey where (to quote an older King’s X classic) “we are finding who we are…”