we-oaks

[we-oaks]

Part 7- Back to the real world

The early mornings came, welcome to the real world i would tell myself. My father would always moan about his sixteen hour days, fair enough.

My return to education was needed, it is important with my conditions to keep the mind busy and remain happy. The small interest towards music that I had in hospital had transformed into a passion, even if I'm not studying music I'm usually partaking in something musical, unless I'm watching Netflix of course. But we all need some Netflix in our lives.    

I am officially the first on my mum's side of the family to go to university, but she did grow up on the moss side. They say you learn something new everyday, but at university you really do.

So if your in a dark place, and trust me i've been there there is always hope, if you haven't got hope your not aiming for anything, just waiting for it to land in your lap won't get you anywhere  

Trust me.

Part 8- that's my brother

My brother has always been in my life from a very early age, he's the strongest man i know and has been through things many people would struggle to comprehend or process. So I thought I would let him have a say...

“For years my mind has been a battleground of personal exploits of what man can do to man be it every day life or some conflict in some foreign land fighting illegal wars I think we can mention a few in the last 20 years or so, Kosovo, Macedonia, Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Music has played a somewhat glorification of war and conflict and we’ve all seen the movies haven’t we well trust me it’s nothing like what we see in them, music is guilty of sexualising war, it’s ugly and leaves a lasting stain on your soul, it questions your whole morality.

The music I’ll talk of is that of a sound that’s echoed with time itself music that has fuelled our mortal identity ancient sounds of a simple drum, a beat that runs in tune with your heart and drowns out any element of fear, gets the blood pumping and makes you fearless almost god like.

Slavic, Norse, Celtic, Gypsy, Mongal nomadic wanderers who are connected with the earth and every spice of existence their sound was meaningful it can make you feel connected to the very core of the earth, they didn’t create music for profit their music was free and selfless.

What’s the connection between modern conflict and the sounds of the ancients well it’s simple the very core of war hasn’t changed from the spear to the rifle it’s still flesh and bone it’s still taking life it’s still savage there’s no victor just survival. And that’s when the real battle starts the battle within.

The Crusaders had a long journey home to Europe; they had time to reflect on what they had done and experienced; they were able to reconnect with society by paying penance to their faith and seek forgiveness for the devilish acts they had committed in the name of their god. For some it would take them years before they could return home and integrate with society and have a meaningful life and a sense of purpose and identity. They had time to recover and process their experiences and had some chance of peace.

The last twenty years has seen some of the most horrific intense fighting since WW2 the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq has laid witness to countless acts of unflinching bravery and some what fearlessness “I’m not a hero but I served with a few” these men are still my brothers they know me and I know them we know what we did and who we did it for, each other.

Music for me is a way of escaping what I hear and see every day witch is a constant reminder of what was and is no longer the here and now but is very fucking real, smells and sounds of every day life remind me, fumes from a car, a child crying a dog barking a door slamming a door slamming is a simple bang yes but it’s not, these few simple sounds can trigger involuntary thoughts and the deeper the thoughts the darker you go you disappear from a conscious world.

So the music to escape is of old, simple drum beats and other instruments I am clueless to name make a sound for me that is simple and rhythmic and puts you into a subconscious trance like state, it brings calm to the soul it brings peace, there is peace with this music for me.

I suffer from PTSD. It's made me homeless, it has taken away my identity and stripped me of any purpose or reason to live. It has nearly defeated me countless times, I have self harmed, I have turned to alcohol and drugs and I have even tried to end my life.

The therapy helped to an extent but I was still missing something and I had to find it because I was emotionless. I was dead inside and I knew I needed to find my happiness again. I have daughters that depended on me to find my heart, soul and life.

A simple drum beat helped save me.”

By Paul Levins

[we-oaks]

Part 3 - The hostel and the playlist

How I came to the hostel was a little bit of a blur, but one thing for sure it wasn't an oasis. It was more so a safe haven for the troubled and unlucky, long corridors but hopefully no long stay. I sometimes wish that I had a mic hanging from that ceiling instead of that smoke stained lampshade, even if I was off beat.

The lack of television gave my newly founded blue Blackberry bold my undivided attention, the little keys would tap away, perhaps annoyingly if i ever had any company. The voices had been there for a minute, they would ask what i'm doing, just taking over the world i would reply.

There was never any silence, and i hated it, so i would draw for my playlist and pray for a better day.

Although i didn't know it yet, i had lost my mind, i guess this would be a good time to explain but i have a word count to hit.

Giggs feat. Mike Skinner - slow songs

The Streets - turn the page

Busy Signal - these are the days

M83 - midnight city

Method Man - Bring the pain (instrumental)

MIA - Paper Planes

XXYYXX - About You

The XX- Intro

To be continued….when i remember.

Part 4 - Hospital F*ck em’ all

Three days in a psychiatric ward doesn't sound too bad does it? What about twenty eight days? Or six months? Maybe even a year?

In total I spent nearly two thousand days in hospital. If you don't respect me for that maybe you should spend some time there.

My little blue Blackberry was unfortunately a ‘banned item’, if i'm honest i was lucky to keep my shoelaces. Thank god I could keep paper and a pen.  

I had written enough material for at least a couple mixtapes within the first year or two, it was always my plan to do a mixtape. so ‘gloating in my own self worth’ was born.

Some pages were lost, some were kept, some were thrown out, some were stolen and some actually got me in trouble when the doctor read them.  

Just a few bars from a few christmases ago -

‘ All i want for christmas is a visit from the Coca-Cola truck,

That's if it ul’ fit down my producers culdesac,

But there's other drinks available,

This ones a multipack, shouldn't be on sale at all.’

Part 5 - F*ck it lets get a stu!

Them sixteen pads lit up my world man, this wasn't just any MPC, this was my MPC. I knew very little, I knew a snare followed a kick, but that was about it.

I was scared of the mic, I didn't like the idea of half the ward hearing my bars, thinking back to the acoustics of the place, I'm pretty sure the whole ward heard my bars, including the staff.

So I began rapping as if no one could hear me, and completely unravelled the whole mixtape. There's a certain grace that comes with spitting bars, if you do it well that is, and i just didn't have it, but you must start somewhere right?

So I did what any rational mind would do, order some very expensive books from Amazon.

The ‘Art of beatmaking’ covered everything from the history of Hip hop to drum patterns and today it sits upon my right hand monitor.

I must pay homage, it's the journey you embark on as a young musician and for me this is where it all started, there is no better feeling in the world, than when it all comes together.  

I mean who else spends five years doing this madness.

Part 6 - Music shouldnt be a chore!

After many years I finally got discharged from the hospital, so I packed up my studio (carefully) and left the madness. The world was new, bright and everyone was so nice, there was no reason to be angry anymore. On arriving at my new humble abode the first thought was ‘where is the studio going?

Them bay windows were perfect man, after a trip to IKEA, a new bonsai tree and a few spent screwdrivers the stu was complete. I still have dreams of an amazingly aesthetic and practical studio in the future, with mad lights and the mandatory comfy sofa.  

The famous Roland Juno I once saved like a madman for looks a bit dusty these days, i sometimes imagine that magic possible within, if my theory was there.

My Maschine MK3 eventually got bullied out by the MPC, just like Ableton did to Logic, and there was me saying I hated Ableton, never judge a book by its cover.

[we-oaks]

so far...

Part 1 - My little red iPod  

Music has always been a part of my life, from switching the television channel to MTV when my brothers friends would come round because i thought cartoons weren't cool or when i would listen to kanye west in my dad's car, miming all the words except for the rude ones.

As we grow from juveniles to young adults and finally get our ipods we begin to open our ears to our new role models and heroes, the 8GB slowly becoming full with the latest sounds, by january my little red nano i received for christmas was a wash of hip hop and rap, album art included.  

This little red ipod followed me on my travels throughout my younger years, a soundtrack to my somehow troubled youth, staying by my side through not only the stress of school and exams but the first time I came home drunk or high.

I left home at sixteen, suddenly it was late nights, excessive drinking, drug use and all the things a teenager shouldn't be doing. So as i relaxed in my room listening to the sounds of Charlie Sloth i thought i knew it all, and how i was wrong. I had no idea, and ironically no ipod.

Part 2 - Nostalgia

The nostalgia has just hit me, sometimes I miss the old days. I still remember the old mansion where we would spend our Saturday nights drinking and smoking, now an old derelict of its former self.

There was always something beautiful about the latest Kendrick Lamar track blaring out of my best friend's Blackberry as we sipped from plastic cups and rolled up, I was always in awe of the starry night sky and of course the moon if it decided to join us, those moments I miss the most.

We had no group chat at the time, but believe me the circle was tight.

Some of us even went on to pursue careers, some worked with their dad, and some even ended up in prison.

I found myself in a very dark place as I ventured into the world with only the clothes on my back and the determination to succeed, the journey from a boy to a man. The long nights out in the cold and the empty stomachs at the hostel shaped me into the man I am today, I wouldn't change a thing.