Frightened Rabbit bandleader Scott Hutchison knew that he was sinking into an abyss—mentally, emotionally, even spiritually—after the 2013 release of Pedestrian Verse, the Scottish group’s breakthrough album. But he couldn’t gauge the true depth of his situation until he began seeing his followers in a dreary new light. But the singer finally got help, from some rather unusual sources. All of which led to the fifth Frightened Rabbit epistle—the aptly dubbed Painting Of A Panic Attack, produced by the National’s Aaron Dessner. Hutchison and his bandmates—Grant Hutchison, Billy Kennedy, Andy Monaghan and Simon Liddell—will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our new feature.
Monaghan: Wake up to 17 missed calls and various texts from Simon and the rest of the band. He’d been waiting in a cab outside my flat an hour previous. Flight is in an hour. Fuck. Some wee Glasgow dicks had been buzzing all the flats on my street for shits and giggles a few days ago, and I’d forgotten to put the buzzer back on so didn’t hear that or all the calls in an inebriated sleep. Idiot.
Quickly pack, maybe the house party and drinks post Fallope & The Tubes gig wasn’t the best idea last night. Rushed, flustered goodbyes to Emer said, and I’m in a cab to the airport.
Lucky for me flight is delayed. Yas! Yer a lucky prick, Andy! I receive a much smaller number of wisecracks, jibes and piss taking from the lads as I arrive at the airport. Getting on the plane I’m wondering, are the people in first class embarrassed that they’re in first class, or so disgusted by the rest of us? I can’t decide what their faces are saying. One guy’s face definitely says, “I’m fucking knackered and can’t go on with this shit. I don’t want to be here.” As the rest are all looking out the window dreaming, I hope it’s about all the great times they’ll be having when they arrive. That’s what I’d be doing if I was in first class.
We’re airborne, and the rumble is strong and deep as the hills of Scotland wave their goodbyes and give us a big grey cloud hug on the ascent. So comfortable up here amongst the clouds, cruising like Michelangelo’s angels or Mario and chums diving around collecting coins in the sky …
Next thing I know we’re onstage, first couple of tunes going real well, though there’s an underlying feeling of discomfort. Can I play this next fiddly bit and get to the keys in time? Fucked it up. Get over it, and don’t let it mess this next bit up. Ah you fucked that as well. You’re shite at guitar; what are you trying to do up here? This is not comfortable at all; who the fuck do you think you are? Why don’t you just get a real job, not put yourself in this position and stay in a safe place. Ah, it’s OK; the next song is easy; don’t worry, get over that, not many folk noticed the bit you messed up. Just relax. You should have practiced more over the years; you should be better at guitar. What have you spent the last six years doing? You should be amazing on the guitar. Why are you not amazing on the guitar? You’re out of your comfort zone. As an episode of shreds unfolds from my fingers, the audience quickly and repeatedly unfolds from an engaged rabble enjoying the show to a united group of huge bloodshot eyeballs and large multi-coloured index fingers pointing at me with little mouths on the end booing and back again. The fretboard turns to sandpaper and starts to violently sand my fingertips to the bone as the headstock grows teeth and bites me repeatedly on face. I can’t escape. This experience is eating me alive.
Where is my comfort zone? In bed? Washing dishes in a Mexican restaurant? Selling accidental death insurance? Making music with great friends and having the insane opportunity of getting to travel the world playing the songs to people? In between moments of time constrained in a large sphere floating within and without the multiverse, only feelings to propel me?
The rumble reappears my seat bounces me around, the plane is landing … It’s over and tour hasn’t even began.
So I’m not totally comfortable onstage, or even in this position of writing blogs for alternative-music press. I’d be more relaxed in a studio with a few instruments, trying new things and making music. The thrill of the experience, in the moment of a show, is what’s so exciting and takes it out of people’s comfort zone. You can’t control everything. There are five imperfect humans collaborating to create some noise, and if one part goes awry, everything can come crashing down. Even the best make mistakes at some point. Maybe I take everything too seriously, as time is precious, I feel pushed to try and say something worthwhile here. After all someone might read this and I’m taking up your time. Outside the comfort zone is where a lot of magic happens creatively. It’s about new perspectives found through new experiences. We should all try and get out of our comfort zones more and more, reassess perceptions of the world and challenge them if need be. Let’s gather all the rule books of the world and set them on fire. Don’t worry if life gets a little uncomfortable. Blow up the homogenised world of music, turn it inside out and reimagine who we can/should be.
