The Housemartins
The People Who Grinned Themselves to Death

THE REVIEW

On weekends, I volunteer at a mental health institution. To keep it brief, I lend a hand in an asylum, which no longer has such a strong name because the methods have changed. The people haven’t. I started suggesting music therapy to rehabilitate this band of crazies. Allow me to use this term, because by now I know them all and joke around with them two days a week. I tried with the Housemartins album titled The People Who Grinned Themselves to Death. Everyone seems enthusiastic or at least it seems so because their reactions to the listening vary. Tony, a big guy, always says yes to everything he's told. He talks over you, always with this monosyllable, “yes, yes, yes.” So, I like to play with him and ask, “Shall we play the Rolling Stones?” and he replies “yes,” “Or should we play Pink Floyd?” and he always replies “yes.” “Or should we put on the Housemartins?” Then he starts with a barrage of “yes yes yes yes yes” and as soon as the title track starts, he moves like a tango dancer. We have so many laughs. Then there's Fred, a very shy guy who always looks down and constantly moves his fingers, intertwining them. When the track "Me and the Farmer" starts, with a very lively rhythm, incredibly his reaction is contrary to his usual habit, he relaxes his hands, and his fingers stop moving madly, he lifts his gaze and smiles. Then there's August, who every time I enter the room follows me like a shadow. He can't wait for me to get close to the stereo to take the Housemartins record out of the sleeve. Then he holds my hand until he hears the drum sticks of "I Can't Put My Finger on It." At this point, I feel his hand gripping mine, maintaining the rhythm of the snare, and the echo of his voice repeating “on it, on it.”

This 1987 record is truly phenomenal. It manages to restore balance to the less stable people. There are songs of indescribable beauty. "The World's on Fire" or "You Better Be Doubtful." One of the very few albums that you can listen to all the way through and then start it over again. It brings a timeless joy. And what a sweet song is "The Light is Always Green?" Equally profound is "Build."

I've discovered that Saturdays and Sundays fly by because I'm swept along with all the guys by the music. A unique kind of music.

On Sunday evening, I return to restart my daily life, projecting my focus on the next weekend. I return to my large white room, covered with a soft layer as if mattresses were hung vertically on the walls. The medical staff welcomes me, helping me put on a very particular garment. A white robe that is worn from the front with very long sleeves. These very long sleeves wrap around my body and fasten behind my back. And finally, I can go to bed peacefully. The whole week passes between tablets, pills, blood pressure measurements, and noise. Background noises. People complaining, shouting, screaming, chants that send shivers down the spine.

Saturday is coming, and I will be able to find my mental balance again in sweet company: the Housemartins record.

I wish you a moment of madness during a job interview.