Album Reflection and Review: Part II (A Personal Journey)
By Anthony Kuzminski
Part I of this review focused on the album overall and I left my personal feelings to the side, but I’m going to get deep here, so for those of you who hate these types of reviews, check out part one and skip this one. Ultimately, I’ve decided to write about it because it’s part of my experience and I’m ok with people calling me a sentimental fool, because at my core, I am. I know I will have my detractors, but I had to go one step further and fully explain why it is that this record means so much to me and maybe…just maybe…someone can read this and not only give an underrated classic another listen, they’ll listen to it without prejudice and maybe take a lesson or two away from it as well.
It’s a bone chilling Sunday afternoon in February of 2008 and I’m sitting in Obie O’Brien’s (Bon Jovi’s engineer) Chicago hotel room and two-time Oscar winner Barbara Kopple is behind a camera as Obie and I banter back and forth about what makes Bon Jovi tick. The night before I was introduced to Kopple to discuss a few ideas about the film she was just embarking on and during my interactions with Obie, who granted me a compliment I wouldn’t dare repeat, she smiled and said she wanted to get us on camera the next day. What was supposed to be a swift and rapid thirty-minute interview evolved into over four-hours. The camera was on me for a long time as I ranted and raved about the band that introduced me to music, made me look to their influences so I could appreciate the greater scope of rock n' roll, grew up with me, has comforted me, disgruntled me and ultimately is one of only a handful of artists that are truly part of my life. I talked about everything; the highs, the lows, the members and most importantly their music. I gave Kopple a history of Bon Jovi, spewing forth hip anecdotes and giving insight and perspective into why they merit more critical respect than they get. I even found a way to poetically compare Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull to the “Wanted Dead or Alive” video; how ‘bout them apples? More importantly, I made them “sound cool” (end of shameless Almost Famous references) while simultaneously being all too human as well. What made the interview go from thirty-minutes to over four hours was when we came to the subject of These Days.
I started talking about how “These Days is the best Bruce Springsteen record of the 1990’s that Springsteen didn’t make.” Bon Jovi made a record as revitalizing, filled with prayers and heals the soul like the best Springsteen and Dylan records. Bon Jovi’s 1995 reflective and somber These Days is a record that would be hailed as a masterwork only if it had been created by any other artist on the planet. Not only did I think it was the band’s finest record to date, it spoke to me in a way no other piece of vinyl with a hole in the middle (or CD/cassette) ever did. There are records you encounter in your life that you listen to because you want to and then there are others you listen to because you need to. Over a two year period, I must have given away two or three dozen copies to friends and bought every international version I could get my hands on because These Days was an existential thematic magnum opus that would enhance their lives like a distinguished book or film. Even though each version of the record may have only contained a few bonus tracks, I always started from track one, “Hey God” and allowed it to unfold into my psyche. After a while, I realized that every time I listened to it or found a cool b-side associated with the record, it healed me.My life during the time of this record’s release was full of questions and an overriding sense of being very alone. I had my own cross to bear, I honestly (and very stupidly) believed that I had to drown myself in misery before I could rise above it all. When Jon Bon Jovi sung the lyric, “I guess I’d rather die than fade away”, it felt like he summed up my existence to a “t”. This was the lyric that entered my head when Kopple was interviewing me about the record. She has a unique gift of allowing people to drop their guard in front of the camera. If you have seen The Dixie Chicks: Shut Up and Sing film from 2006 and the scene at the end of the film where fiddle player Martie Maguire breaks down, you know exactly where I am coming from. I shared things with Kopple that I wouldn’t ever dream of with a stranger over dinner let alone someone I met for the first time twenty-four hours earlier. She put me at such ease, that I let my motor mouth flow and my emotions to carry me away. As I was talking about the record, at some point she asked me to clarify why it meant so much to me and all I remember is I grew nauseous, became lightheaded, a bit red around the eyes and when I opened my mouth, there were no words. As I began to stutter, she stood behind the camera and began to drill and coax me, “Don’t stop, keep going, tell me why you feel this way, what happened in your life, what was going on?” and that little bit of coaching was all I needed as for the next few minutes I unloaded in a way I am not sure I ever have before. I’ve always found myself to be a tad more emotive than your average person and I think during my trying years, I held a lot in, this was probably my way of letting it go once and for all. Even though I was in a radically altered place at the time of the interview than I had been a decade earlier, she touched a nerve and in short, I lost it. My wife looked on and saw me open up about a time she knew about but never fully realized scarred me as much as it did until this moment. What I do remember vividly is that somehow, I managed to make sense of how emotions come into play, the themes of the These Days record and how, even when the band disappoints me, I reflect back to how that record saved my life. It made me feel like I wasn’t isolated and that there was hope out there. I’ve never been one to conceal my emotions, I wear my heart on my sleeve, but the levels of revelation I gave to her was unparalleled. When I finally stopped my vocal convulsing, Kopple sat behind the camera with her hands pressed firmly on either side of her head and only removed them to wipe away a few tears. Now, let me make one thing clear, not even if you forced me to smoke a joint the of a steroid size A-Rod, did I ever think that one second of that footage would have wound up in the finished film, even if the band had not switched the direction of the film and directors. There’s a part of me that is semi-thankful as I know that footage of me is buried forever because I think I probably came off as an unhinged fan. But on the other hand, I’ve learned that I have nothing to be ashamed of, because that is who I am and the shedding of skin was cleansing.
Read Part I of the review at this link.
Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network and his daily writings can be read at The Screen Door and can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com.