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This is NOT a song about drugs (which some who have heard it have immediately assumed!). Rather, it’s a song about depression. More specifically, it is about my experiences with depression. I was first diagnosed with dysthymic disorder (a mild but chronic form of depression) in my early twenties, during my second year at University. (I am reliably informed one’s early twenties are a vulnerable age). What’s interesting about my condition is how physiologically rooted it is. I basically have low levels of serotonin. When I take so-called SSRIs (Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors) I feel fine. When I don’t, I feel bad. (Notwithstanding times I suffer dips known as “double depression” where I have a depressive episode, SSRIs or nae.) But on the whole, I regulate my episodes with pills. Hence, “Chemical Boy”. Maybe I should qualify my opening statement. I once participated in a survey of people with a depressive disorder who had also taken a lot of ecstasy (and other drugs) in the late 1980s, during the “Acid House” and “Madchester” eras. From which you can draw your own conclusions. My advice to my own and other kids is simply to say “no”. It’s just not worth it. One other comment to make is this. I have this long-running debate with my childhood school-friend Flora Franklin about the value of “therapy”. Given my (positive) experiences with chemical treatments, I have little time for the “talkers”. When I had my first dysthemic episode at University in my second year, the University made me talk to a shrink. She was very keen to probe my childhood (which was actually pretty happy). And although I DID have quite a complex relationship with my Dad, it was simply taking SSRIs that made me feel better. But there are many amongst my acquaintance who testify very positively about talk therapy. So, I guess it’s a case of horses-for-courses. I’m not going to knock something that works for others. It’s just not for me. After all, I am a chemical boy.
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