in order to prevent the fruition of any such plot, don - who was a master manipulator and 8-9 years our senior - would start a 'talk', as he called it. usually the unfortunate target was whoever was having difficulty with a particular section of music. or perhaps someone in a foul mood because they had had nothing to eat for a month but a small four ounce jar of soyabeans a day.
it's painful for me to talk about this time in my life. many in my family looked down on me because i didn't stand up for myself. they didn't realise this wasn't a john wayne physical type of battle. it was a mental battle, and a spiritual one. i was completely unprepared for the hostile environment which i and my friends found ourselves in. i was completely at a loss as to how to react to this environment.
my three best friends and i became ensnared in an atmosphere of fear, dread and misery. my main goal was to finish 'trout mask replica' and get out and never go back. we had no money. we hardly saw girls. we slept on the floor. we were verbally abused. we were hungry. out clothes weren't even clean. we couldn't be ourselves without starting a 'talk'. sometimes these 'talks' lasted two and three dáys with the 'target' finally bursting into tears or lying his way out of some imaginary maze of guilt.
all of us were doing our best to finish the project, and had a great deal of respect for don's music. in our - the band's - perspective, these talks were our fault, and we hadn't arrived at some level we needed to be at in order for harmony to exist.
anything specific you can remember?
images i remember are: everyone else in the band hitting me in the face at the same time; falling asleep from utter exhaustion with a cigarette and everyone watching it burn my hand after being up for three days; after going to the bathroom, i laid down in exhaustion only to wake up with everyone staring at me, and when i stood up i was struck in the face and fell down, so exhausted and mentally screwed up i couldn't defend myself; being hit in the chin and looking in a mirror hours later to discover blood caked in my beard and hair: getting drunk - i hardly ever drink - going off by myself and passing out only to be carried and propped up in a chair in the living room and having ice thrown on me for hours, so that i woke up shivering and then enduring an interrogation as to how i could possibly embarrass the band in this way...
it wasn't the physical violence that was the worst part, it was the mental strain of walking on eggs around a man who constantly thought everyone was involved in some devious plot. langdon winner mentioned this behaviour in [one of the last paragraphs of] his rolling stone article on the captain in [...] 1970, saying in effect that don at one point began to view him as 'public enemy number one'.
