"The lyrics for "Life Wasted" were reportedly written about the death of Johnny Ramone and about the feelings one has after driving home from a funeral. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Vedder stated:
When you leave that funeral, that drive is as important as any single stretch of road you'll travel on. You've got a renewed appreciation for life. And I think that feeling can last through the day, through the week, but then things start getting back to normal and you start taking this living and breathing and eating thing for granted. I think that song is there to remind you, 'This is that feeling'....The truth is—I'm a little sensitive and this is a close, personal relationship. I'll just say it. Fuck it. Right up front. Half the record is based on the loss of the guy who turned out to be the best friend I ever had on the planet. And that was Johnny Ramone.[1]"This song has been on repeat in my head a lot lately. I feel a lot of different emotions to this song, all stemming from about the same place. I always imagine someone driving, open air, all beat up (much like the Chili Peppers "Scar Tissue" video) just screaming these lyrics, blasting down the highway, onto something bigger, better... almost a new beginning. It's really kind of fitting that I'm brought back to the "Scar Tissue" video when I think of this song, that video had been explained as being a visual representation of where the band was at that time.
If you haven't seen it I'll paint a picture: the scenery is a highway based in the desert, in all different directions you see remains of a post apocalyptic world, charred debris; all weathered by the, not a cloud in the sky, sun. The band is driving through the "remains" in a beat up convertible, all dirtied up and covered by some form of cuts, bruises, bandages, and as the title would lead you to believe; scars. The story of the video is just of the band driving along looking for some form of life and re-piecing together some form of the former life. A visual limbo. At the time of the 1999 Californication release (and the time of the video, of course) the band had just gotten their guitar player, John Frusciante, back who had been suffering from a heroin addiction in his time away, along with front man Anthony Keidis who had suffered a relapse of heroin usage. Up until the '99 release, the band had been falling apart at the seams and all signs pointed towards the band collapsing under the stress of it all. The video was made as a metaphor of that uncertain time; broken, beat, and scarred, they were now back on the road towards an unknown future.
I whenever the mental DJ plays "Life Wasted" again I'm taken back to a rush of feelings all from my time working at Baby Dolls for the three plus years I was there. That place, no matter how I may have portrayed it to family or friends, was just one big roller coaster with the On/Off leaver broken off years ago. There was absolutely nothing healthy about that atmosphere for me. I had "upper management" that absolutely despised me for no explainable reason. Really, nothing never was explained to me what I was doing wrong or what triggered all the negativity, but for some mystical reason I was always looked down on. I put A LOT of my time into making that place an echo of it's former self from ten years prior. I do mean "a lot," most of my friends referred to my time there as "being in a black hole for three years," (the interior walls were covered with mirrors, and because of that phone signal seemed to never come into, or, went out the of club. So there was no communication ever going out to friends, and because of that my list of people I would call friends was diminishing rather quickly.) At three years I had resigned, I actually set a record of being the first manager to just walk away and not be fired... if that isn't alarming in some form, I don't know what is. But the idea was to just walk away, wash my hands of it, and not to burn any bridge; I still had work friends that I would've like to be able to see every so often. I left in July of '10, not quite a year later I came back up to Topeka for NHRA Summer Nationals. At Dolls I had picked up a couple of friends that worked with the NHRA circuit, it was always a fun time when NHRA rolled into town; club was always very busy since it was just a mile north of the track. This year I went up to the track, met back up with the NHRA friends and eventually headed over to Dolls sister club, Club Orleans. It was that night, after I had walked in, that my former "upper management" walked in after my Dad and I. I had tried to give a polite head nod a couple of times to "upper management" but was ignored, both times. Dad and I left and stayed home Saturday with plans to head back up Sunday for finals. Saturday I received a text from a number I had deleted on my last day of work at Dolls, but instantly recognized. I remember thinking "Oh this should be good" when I saw the number. "Don't bother coming back to Orleans." My whole body became hot, I don't think a kind word could have been found within a mile of my thinking, just thoughts of so much negativity that I won't dare retype any of it here or anywhere. I think that a whole ten seconds had passed before I had sent my reply: "alrighty! ;)" (the only insult I could think up, make it sound homoerotic.)
That was about the time the mental DJ started playing "Life Wasted" on heavy rotation. All I could think of was all my time I had... I guess at this point, just thrown away. All the years of stress and work to try and bring that place back to it's former glory it had been years prior. Learning the in's-and-out's of sales and marketing, promotions. Learning how to work an atmosphere, all the times I had thrown my voice out and risked my personal health to make myself and that place a little bit of revenue. Friends and family I had told "oh, I'm sorry, I'm busy working" to, and missed some major occasions because of. And I think most painful of all, missing out of time I could have spend with my grandfather in his last months, weeks, days, hours, minutes. All that time, really, just wasted at this point.
Those feelings have subsided a bit now, but every so often (such as now as I type this) it comes back and just leaves a burning feeling from the pit of my stomach, all the way up to about the middle of my chest. I think of all the animosity I felt on that Saturday, all that negativity that, again, I promise I'm not writing or expressing. But also mixed up with that hurt and animosity, I have this all encompassing, feeling of excitement and hope. Almost as if I'm looking outward and knowing that yes, I had messed up and ended up bloodied up, bruised, and scarred. But, there is still plenty of this highway in front of me, and after straying, I might as well not quit. It's best to just keep going forward. Lessons learned, I'm ready to go. "There's got to be some sign of life out there." A positive that I do take away from my time there is that I did make a few friends that I consider very close, and do wish to keep in touch with. I never know, I could run into them again.
But in the mean time, with the song "Life Wasted" on continuous repeat, the top down, the bandages applied and scars healing, the message right now couldn't be more clear:
"I've have faced it; a life wasted. I'm never going back again.
I escaped it; a life wasted. I'm never going back again.
Having tasted; a life wasted. I'm never going back again."
That makes a lot of sense, Kevin. I have had similar instances in my life, and it's hard to look back and not get angry about time (life) that can be wasted on worthless things you thought meant something at one time. But you're absolutely right, the road in the front dash is bigger than the one in the rear-view...
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