Taipan: Seeing Something

Taipan

I know what to say

It just won’t go away

How long will it take

For things to go my way?

At dawn it became

A big crazy game

An endless game

Always the same

Reach for something and hold it close

You’re holding nothing an empty ghpst

Cold illusions will show the way

Live to fight yet another day

I see you looking back and seeing something, seeing something

I see you copping flack and feeling nothing, feeling nothing

I see you look back and seeing something, seeing something

I see you looking back and saying, “It’s a big crazy game!”

Then at some stage

You chose to engage

You turned the page

On the big stage

At dawn it became

A big crazy game

An endless game

Always the same

Reach for something and hold it close

You’re holding nothing – an empty ghost

Cold illusions will show the way

Live to fight yet another day

I see you looking back and seeing something, seeing something

I see you copping flack and feeling nothing, feeling nothing

I see you looking back and seeing something, seeing something

I see you looking back and saying, “It’s a big crazy game!”

As already mentioned, I was under a fair bit of pressure in my workplace at the university I was working at the time I wrote this song.  It’s difficult for me describe exactly what I was subject to in that place at the time – mostly because of the perceptual challenges I live with and have been treated and medicated for over the last 25 years. Even now I’m unsure exactly what was happening at that time; what was real and what wasn’t.  For ten years at the University I would come in to the office, have fairly complex work related interactions with other staff, but all the time believing that those interactions were somehow analogous comments on aspects of my life outside of work.  An intense discussion at work about “switching off a subject for next semester,” an annoying student who “we wish would just hurry up and graduate”, or a particular academic being “angered by the latest developments at a course management meeting” all felt and sounded to me to be comments on my life outside of work.  But I could never tell exactly which aspects of my life.  

Were they angry at my Facebook rant on the weekend?  I actively avoided social media contact with work colleagues for that very reason.  How could they be privy to it?  Was it the conversation I had with a family member in which I expressed frustration at various processes I was subject to at work? Again, how could the people at work be privy to that? Were they commenting on the mild neurotic episode I had at home the evening before? And if so, why were they angry? And how did they know about it? And how dare they even comment, let alone pass judgement on my situation without having any understanding whatsoever of my medical condition!

Why, when I’m crossing the river on the bridge on my way to the bus stop after work do people, strangers, members of the public, cast me knowing glances? Why should they be made privy to my workplace interactions? It was horrible! And the burning, $6 billion dollar question – how is all of this even possible? How are the people at work privy to my private interactions and the people outside of work privy to my workplace interactions? There must be some kind of website, public interface or social media thread dedicated to posting these details to make everyone aware of them? And why is this even happening? After 20 years of grappling with these perceptions, “professional development” is the only explanation I can think of. I am made ubiquitous to all with an aim to develop my professionalism through some kind of training; or “surreptitious workplace assessment” as I always used to call it. I know this is nuts, and is why I need meds and therapy; but it’s what I live with and let me tell you - it makes a busy, demanding and often stressful university professional role a hell of a lot harder again. My GP once commented, “You’re working two jobs – you’re doing the actual work (which I was), AND you’re navigating these complex perceptual challenges that you call “surreptitious workplace assessment” at the same time.  No wonder you’re frazzled! Anyone would be!”

I appreciated the acknowledgement.  Yes it was very stressful. And the truth was I needed music as an outlet for some of those stresses.  And compounding my stress was a lot of the crap you put up with from colleagues who can see you’re struggling but have no idea of what you’re actually experiencing: “That bloke who murdered his family in Camp Hill, Tom – what a psycho! You live in Camp Hill, right? You probably know him, do you?” Or, “I was reading about a bloke who was recently jailed for historical sexual assault charges.  Pretty horrendous wouldn’t you say, Tom?” And scores of other subtle and not-so-subtle put downs which I learnt just to ignore and in fact simply pretend weren’t happening.  Because if you were to acknowledge such recalcitrance in your own mind at the time, you really would crack.  

Most people in the office knew I was a musician of some sort, but I kept the details of my musical life pretty much to myself, and few people really took any kind of interest. Although at the end of 2015 when I had the SWO EP pressed to CD, one particular colleague who was a very decent, straight-up and highly competent worker took an interest.  “Hey Tom, I heard you’ve done some recording and have some CDs – well done. May I buy one?” I sold it to him for $10 without any kind of discussion about the writing or recording process or really anything much at all about it.  “Thanks, Steve – I hope you enjoy it!” A few days later Steve approached me again. “I listened to your CD, Tom – it’s really very good.  Thanks for sharing! I especially liked the last song, Taipan.  It has a great guitar riff and the lyrics capture exactly what was happening very well.” I was thankful for the feedback, and happy that someone had taken the time to listen. And Taipan does have a great guitar riff! But I did find it a bit unnerving to think that the frustrations my lyrics express in the song were actually accurate in some way. “Fuck,” I thought silently. “This really must be a shit show.” But I never really consciously acknowledged that thought or sentiment. I wouldn’t have survived in that place for the 10 years I did if I ever had.

And on the guitar riff, Nate has always been an incredible player and talent! I could dedicate  an entire autobiography to our interactions, history and Nathan’s musicianship all on its own! It was a HUGE THRILL for me to be in the studio with Nate and Cam and to hear Nate’s sublime guitar playing shredding out the Taipan riffs and thinking, “Hell – this is my song! Hell – it sounds AMAZING!!!!” Hearing your own music recorded and performed by professional level musicians remains the most gratifying and personally satisfying experience I have ever known.  Yes, it “took balls.” Yes, I knew it was going to work.  Yes, it was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced! And as a 37 year old university professional at the time, song writing and recording to many people did seem a strange ecstasy to obsess over.  But Wayne Bennett says it best with one of his books, Don’t Die With The Music In You! Now hundreds of songs later and I couldn’t now even if I tried.