MUSIC SAVES:​ By: Vincent Renn

By: Vincent Renn

Even as a child, music was part of my life. Mom would take us to school or on errands in a puke green Datsun. The radio was always playing KEARTH 101, which was the oldies station for Southern California. On Saturdays, Mom and Dad played Kenny Rogers and Neil Diamond on vinyl. I was years away from developing my musical personality, but from the beginning I was open to music in all forms and styles. 
My first two CD’s, I bought off this goth girl in high school. Portrait of an American Family by Marilyn Manson, and Get a Grip by Aerosmith. I had surpassed my Bon Jovi and Michael Jackson phases and discovered something faster, louder and darker. Rock and Metal had become my identity. 
Time; much like Life came and went. I was in my mid to late thirties and going through my second divorce. A divorce which I initiated, so I had nobody else to blame. She was still very much in love, and I think I was still trying to figure out who out what I was. To this day, I still regret hurting her the way I did. In the end, we both needed to find happiness. 
I finally moved on and found my new love. That first major relationship after the divorce. She was everything I needed, and man did that feed my ego. I was going to shows regularly to shoot for the concerts and the bands, and started to interview my idols, and while rubbing elbows with people that have played in my speakers for years. 
Again Captain Ego kicked in and she and I split because of stupid drunken decisions. Stupid drunken decisions that I seemed to keep making. I was still learning and understanding what depression was for me and I coped by drinking. Between the depression, the pressure of single co parenting and the attempt to keep up with my new rock n roll life I began drinking heavily. After years of being clean of Coke, Meth and even smoking crack I began growing weak. I thought maybe just a hit of this would make me feel better. A hit that never came, but it exposed a weakness within. The water began swirling around me, and I was staring at the drain. 
There were two artists that I listened to almost exclusively at this time! Blue October sang about depression, failed fatherhood and successfully making mistakes with everything that we do in life. During the earlier albums, Justin Furstenfeld spoke openly about his issues and shortcomings. He didn’t celebrate it, but it was easy for me to empathize and understand. It’s like he was holding my hand in the darkness. 
I still remember that day in Denver. The last time I felt this darkness hold me so tight was when I was in the Navy. The cuts, the pills, the psychiatric hold. Somehow I had returned home to the shadows that live in our darkest depths. Standing at the curb, I remember it like it was yesterday.  Looking down the road I could see one of the semis that would regularly pass through to/from Ikea. As the truck edged closer to the intersection, I took a deep breath and just remembered that the pain was about to go away. 
Live and Kicking had been on a permanent rotation for me by this point. Nonpoint dared you to defy those challenges in life that threaten to hold you down. They encouraged you to push, and endure. And it was at that moment just before I stepped off that curb that I paused. Like a hand cutting through the ocean of darkness and lifting me up. While Blue October always walked me through my shadowy corridors in my head, that day it was Nonpoint that saved my life. ​