Thursday 21 April 2011

Babylon's Burning - memories of unemployment

So there I was on the tube and on my iPod came the sound of The Ruts and a live version of Babylon's Burning. As I drew in a breath, I was transported back to the Leadmill in Sheffield, circa 1982. The driving, pounding rythym and a sense of youth and power washed over me as I swayed and was jostled on the Victoria line.

It doesn't matter how old I am, how corporately I'm dressed, this track brings me smack back to my younger self - slightly rebellious, hungry and yearning.

The 80s weren't a particularly happy time for me. I left university almost in a daze, and walked into the worst recession in the UK since the 30s. It took me two years and more applications than I care to remember before I got a job. As time went on, I gradually sank further and further into helpless depression which my mum - in work since she was 15 - didn't recognise, and couldn't help me with.

But I didn't get that drained, helpless feeling when I listened to this track. I just hear the raw energy and excitement and I get infused with the sort of gritty determination which threads through the music. In NLP terms, this is called an anchor.

What strikes me most forcefully now is the resilience of the human spirit. I went through the first real misery I had ever known coming out of university - bright, with a newly-minted qualification and nowhere to go. As my unemployment went on and on, I slowly lost all sense of who I was and what I was good at. It has taken me years to rebuild my identity as worthy, useful, intelligent.

But that's forgotten, listening to this track - I only remembered the tense, hopeful excitement of the beat, the live atmosphere.

I think it's vital to concentrate of who you are, not what you do for a living. You're more fascinating in your likes, quirks, views and curiosities than any number of clients, any amount of transactions, any level of budget responsibilities. The lack of a role doesn't make you less lovable, less kind, less intelligent. Think of times when you had a sense of purpose, of power, of excitement of joy and relive them.

And get out your old records.