In this blog, I discuss an important band that I discovered at a turning point in my life, before moving on and then rediscovering them again years later in a time of emotional need.
Do you have a song which has the power to take you back to a place and time? Lyrics that resonate on multiple levels? A recording with a combination of chords and production that draws an emotional reaction? I’m certain the answer to all of these questions is yes, as I believe everyone has at least one song that speaks to them.
I have many which fall under this category, that I listen to often. There are a few, however, which have fallen by the wayside down the years; Memorable songs that remained in the past for whatever reason. In my case, it was a musical consciousness which didn’t carry fully into the next stage. A year-long period between 2001 and 2002, ending just before my 13th birthday.
There is one song in particular, which I recently heard while listening to a favourite album from the aforementioned period. I didn’t expect to be so shaken by it, but I think I froze for a moment. The opening guitars sounded like an eery bulldozer crashing in from my past, the chorus a sign of hope and the lyrics a poignant reminder of the time that had passed. The song in question was Turn by Feeder; Taken from their 2001 album Echo Park.
How I Discovered Feeder
I first discovered the band on a Now That’s What I Call Music compilation, volume 48. Buck Rogers was positioned next to Papa Roache’s Last Resort, but it was Feeder I kept repeating. I enjoyed the teasing guitar of the verses, making way for the heavy sound of the chorus. It sounded commercial but with a bit of grit, both in the instrumentation and Grant Nicholas’ vocals. It was only one song, but it spurred me on to hear more.
My Dad bought me the Yesterday Went Too Soon album from 1999, which I loved. Songs such as Anaesthetic, Insomnia, Waiting for Changes and Day In Day Out were a nice mix of Rock genres with a rebellious spirit that felt current. There was another side to them which was slower and more introspective, which I appreciated during certain mindful moments.
It was the track You’re My Evergreen which fully cemented the band into my affections. From the thunderous build-up to the burst of guitars and beyond, this was a track that perfectly bridged the gap between my interest in Classic Rock and my growing engagement with Alternative and Indie music. When my Dad first heard it on a mixtape, he pretty much screamed. The section of full-on guitars just before the next verse is a magical moment that we were eager to keep reliving again and again. You might even say it bonded us together, even if only for three minutes. It is something I am forever thankful to the band for.
And so I eagerly waited to hear the next album! I first heard a selection of tracks from Echo Park via a free sampler CD. I must’ve played Turn dozens of times. I received the full album on my 12th birthday, a gift from my Dad. I played it for the first time during a quiet moment, and I wasn’t sure what to think at first. It grew on me and became one of my most-played albums for the next year.
I recall hearing the opening track, entitled Standing on the Edge, for the first time. It had an intensity that I hadn’t heard before that I quickly adapted to…and then the loud thrashy screaming section started. I didn’t realise it at the time, but this was exactly what I needed to hear. It represented where my brain was at, and how out of control I was feeling.
The Difficult Transition to Secondary School.
When I first transferred to secondary school, it didn’t go particularly well. I wasn’t aware of my autism at that point, and so I struggled with my emotions. I was having meltdowns daily, which usually included a massive scream across the playground. This led to teasing, bullying and a real sense of loneliness at 12 years old. I couldn’t concentrate, I struggled to function and tried to fit in but usually fell short.
I have been a Status Quo fan since I was 7 years old. I followed the band throughout my life, and have obsessed over their music. The only issue in a pre-social media world was that I felt alone in my fandom of such an old band. Discovering Feeder helped to bridge a gap to my peers, and gave me a way to understand some of the music they were listening to. It didn’t cure all of my problems, but it did help massage them a little.
The Surprising Turning Point
Then my life changed, but not in the way you might expect. My family and I moved to the East of England to find a new life. It was a fresh start which wiped the slate clean, and I met some of my dearest friends. I turned 13 that December, but my angst disintegrated. I wasn’t angry anymore, and the atmosphere of my new school helped with that. It was like flicking a switch. When my new teacher glanced over my school records, she couldn’t believe I was the same person.
This newfound sense of self meant that Feeder had a reduced role in my life. Their sound no longer represented where my head was at. The moment had passed, destined to be a marker of a bygone era in my life. I occasionally revisited the band’s material, especially when I started playing guitar, but the emotional connection wasn’t as strong.
Rediscovering the Band
Fast forward to 2024, and I’m 34 years old. I had already had a bad start to the year, with some personal tragedies that I will not go into right now. Also, my income is unpredictable, and my mood is all over the place. I feel quite reclusive most of the time, determined to try and make things better. My wife and child brighten up my day, but the rest of the time is uncertain. Enter Feeder.
I’m lying in bed one night, and a song comes into my head. I recognise it as Standing on the Edge, a song I haven’t heard for years. I contemplate playing it the next day but opt not to. Then during a Spring clean, I decided to put the album on. Like an old friend visiting, it was nice to hear them again. Perhaps it wasn’t as heavy as I had considered it back in 2001, but the tone struck a chord; It felt nostalgic and comforting.
I remembered the words to most of the songs, and even some of the instrumental changes. When I heard Seven Days in the Sun for the first time in ages, it sounded like 2001 was smashing open the door. Then as I hit We Can’t Rewind, a memory washed over me. I believe it was the theme of a reality TV show about teaching at some point, a strange thing to remember. Its uplifting message was a perfect fit for it, and an even more perfect mood for me.
Then as Turn began, everything stopped. I began to feel an emotional reaction, which deepened as the song progressed. It was written about the band’s experiences on the road, but it felt like a poignant reminder of my journey, the sense of uncertainty I feel and the fear that stems from difficult times. I sang along to the words and felt my eyes watering as the line “I wish that I could turn the clocks right back” came and went.
From my perspective, I felt a great sense of sadness. Thoughts of a time gone by were in front of me, predominantly from an era I tend to forget. The song reminded me of important people who had passed in the intervening years, those who continue to inspire me. I also felt a sense of regret, that I didn’t realise what I had; Another reminder from the song. Lastly, I had a feeling from within me that I shouldn’t give up.
This song deeply moved me, so much so that I chose not to replay it. It felt like a moment that I should try and preserve for a while. It should serve as a lesson to me, and a point in which to continue on a more positive path. For 3 minutes, my pre-teen self gave me a big hug from the inside. I sense that he was the one who planted Feeder in my head at a time of crisis. A moment to stop, look back, look forward then “find ourselves again”.
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