LCD Soundsystem's 'All My Friends': Crip Mourning Writ Large
Reflections on a summer of (near) isolation and an introduction to crip mourning (larger article on this coming soon!)
LCD Soundsystem’s sophmore album, Sound of Silver, is a superb album, but, considering the title of this piece, clearly one song in particular has always stood out to me above all the other excellent songs on there.1 When I first properly listened to the lyrics of All My Friends, it made me incredibly sad because what James Murphy (LCD Soundsystem’s frontman) is describing within the lyrics is a life I do not have, a life I can never have. It’s a song I found myself coming back to a lot over the summer, which, given it’s title, feels like rubbing salt into a gaping wound because I’ve hardly seen anyone this summer. A summer of near isolation is probably quite a strange concept to any non-disabled people reading, I’m sure summer is a time you look forward to - a time of socialising with your friends and perhaps going on holidays with them, but for me, summer is the season I dread most. Over the 3 months of summer that I’ve spent at home, I’ve had social arrangments with friends on 3 occasions - it’s not been easy being so cut off. It always feels quite ironic to me that the 3 months where it’s nicest outside are the months I feel the worst inside. Summer melancholy is not for the weak! At least there is one advantage, I have read 20 books this summer, this, along with getting through the tough feelings isolation brings, feels like a great acheivement.
I’ve always met the closing lyrics of the song (“If I could see all my friends tonight”) with the sarcastic thought of well that would not be particularly difficult for me, you see, when you are disabled you don’t have many friends - it’s not making them that’s hard, it’s keeping them.2 Each time I make a new friend it usually follows the same pattern, I open up to them about being disabled and what that entails for me, they say I’m “one of the most intersting people” they’ve ever met and explain how they’re “learning so much”, I start to trust them more and start asking for more from them, they say I’m “starting to become too much”, they leave. Sometimes they leave softly which consists of them stopping spending as much time with me, then they start to cancel on me last minute (the worst example of this last minute cancellations is 10 minutes before, when I was on my way to the event they were supposed to meet me at), they suddenly get very busy and before I know it the last time I saw them was over 4 months ago. I prefer it when people at least have the decency to leave quickly, to phase out slowly feels like the cowards way out.
Anyway, for me, what Murphy is getting at with that line is a feeling of yearning to see your friends, a yearning that can sometimes manifest itself as a feeling of emptiness so many of us get after seeing our friends and enjoying their company, a feeling that has become all too familiar to me over this summer. This feeling usually creeps in in as I wave my friends off as they head back home, this summer it’s occurred mainly in train stations - I don’t know why I bring up the location but it feels important somehow. Although the songs closing wishful refrain sometimes causes a feeling of discomfort, it can simultaneously be a source of comfort because, at least I know, I am not alone in this feeling.
And if it crowded, all the better
Because we know were gonna be up late
are the lyrics that always fill me with the most regret - not only because they refer to things I have so far missed out on, but because they are also referring to the things that I cannot ever catch up on.
Clubs or club/bar hybrids are not really spaces where disabled people are safe (this is assuming that we can get into them in the first place, which, we usually can’t) they’re crowded and drunk ableds are a whole other level of awful. At the best of times, ableds have some pretty awful spacial awareness - throw alchol into the mix and you’ve got no chance if you can’t push through crowds easily. If you can get in the club there’s no gurantee you can move about in there (some have random steps in them as well as the aformentioned hoards of ableds).
The other issue that makes me feel unsafe is the breaking down of social barriers alcohol affords, which is of course why it is so popular - but just remember: neoliberal doctrine thrives on us being unable to interact with and like each other without substantantial substance assistance - it can create a pretty unpleasant environment for disabled people. When drunk, ableds say and do some pretty wild things to me (wilder than usual I may add) - I’ve not experienced much of this since I don’t drink so I’m rarely in spaces where there are drunk people - however, I have a few horror stories which usually involve ableds thinking it’s okay to touch me withouth my permission (although, there was one drunk woman who asked for my permission to hug me - maybe the only positive expierience I’ve had with a drunk non-disabled person)3, or just making me generally uncomfortable, such as the 36 year old woman, when I went to my first (and last) festival, who kept asking intrusive questions while every once in a while telling me how pretty I was (I was 19).
Even though these are spaces I would hate to be in I still really miss them (this what I mean by the crip mourning I mention in the title). Crip mourning, to me, is about mourning the life you would perhaps like to have, but can’t - not because of being disabled, but because of society not being made for you, both physically and attitudinally.
Ever since I started university I have been mourning that I can never stay up wayyy too late clubbing with my friends (mainly because you’d actually need a friendship group, that like you and want to spend time with you, for this - these are something I’ve heard tell of, anyone know if they’re real? I consider them as mythical as unicorns). I tried to once just with flat parties round the Fallowfield student accommodation campus and it just did not go well - it made me feel very left out and upset so I decided it just was not worth it. The people I tried to achieve this with did not actually care about me or my enjoyment - safe to say that short lived friendship group was the end of my friendship group endevours.
This feeling of staying out all night and stumbling home when the sun comes up described in the song is a feeling I want to experience desperately but don’t think I ever can.
- I did regularly stay awake until the sun came up in my first year of University but not for the exciting reasons you may think - in fact, I cannot recall the reasons why I did this, but, to my depression addled brain, the reasons must have made sense. It was primarily time I spent on my own and, thinking retrospectively, certainly not good for me. Although, it was good for my film watching stats, sometimes I’d watch 4 films back to back! -
Despite knowing that these spaces would not be safe or enjoyable spaces for me I desperately want to be in them - particularly when I see people going clubbing plastered all over social media on a Friday night.
Friday nights historically have probably been the most lonely night of the week for me because it’s the night I spend alone the most. My Friday night usually would consist of a solo trip to the cinema followed by an early night so I don’t upset myself too much at the copious clubbing stories on social media.
For a long time this felt like a really pathetic way to spend a Friday night, but, as my friends have got older and less interested in going on a night out, this has become easier for me. I’ve also become less bothered about it when I’ve made friends with people whose entire personality does not consist of going out clubbing every Friday. It was just very diffucult to adjust initally, the university experience is not exactly considered with disabled people in mind. I’m now very comfortable with the fact that I have to have a slower Friday night, they’re not something I dread as much as I used to, nor are they as upsetting as they used to be.
The bittersweet feelings the song evokes do not stop here, there’s one more line that sticks in my mind.
When you're blowing eighty-five days in the middle of France
There’s an independence that can be inferred from this, it envokes an idea of solo travel something I’ve been mourning throughout the summer because it has felt (at times) that everyone has been on a solo trip abroad apart from me. It hurts when you realise that this is not how your summer will ever look and brings up difficult feelings, mainly being scared of being left behind.
Personally, for me, I could never waste 85 days in the middle of France - I went to Germany for a week on a family holiday this summer I would have loved to have stayed for 12 and bit weeks.4 Blowing 85 days in the middle of France, or the middle of any European country for that matter, sounds great to me!
The song very clearly has a view of the experience of growing up through an abled (and also quite middle class) lens, I think it’s the very thing that makes the song so affecting to me - it taps into an idea of growing up and becoming more independent that I just can never have. Unfortunately for me, growing up comes with a loss of independence and a realisation that I will never do half of the things my friends do or can do.
I know you’re thinking that the obvious thing to do, particularly given the sadness the song makes me feel, would be to stop listening to it. However, the feeling is more bittersweet because, through this song, at least I can, to a degree, experience it’s themes vicariously - it’s better than nothing.
Other notable favourites of mine being North American Scum and Someone Great, if you’ve not heard the album do yourself a favour and go check it out!
I’m reluctant to put a number on ‘not many friends’ because it always feels wrong to count how many friends you have - because when you do this you begin to value the wonderful friendships you already have less - and, as I have said in previous articles, I do not want to be pitied. But, if you must know, it’s slighly above 5 but definitely below 10.
It’s quite sweet really, I was at a gig with my friend and she approached me and started talking to me about the gig. Then she said to me “I want to hug you right now, but I can’t” to which I replied with “why can’t you? of course you can!” which, seemed to make her quite happy (she had looked sad before when she thought she was not able to hug me). I think she had fallen into the usual assumption many non-disabled people have that disabled people are too fragile to be touched - despite this it still felt a very wholesome interaction (even though I doubt she remembers it). It’s wholesome because there was no overt mention of me being disabled or any intrusive questions - if you’re reading this random drunk woman you’re a true disability ally, I hope you are thriving!
This is something I’m also planning on writing about soon.