Why I'm Always Thinking About Suicide: Alan Vega's Missing Decade

Why I'm Always Thinking About Suicide: Alan Vega's Missing Decade
When one door closes, another opens. Photograph taken with iPhone 13 mini and printed with Fujifilm Instax Mini Evo. Collage and Photo Credit: John Jajeh

To the uninitiated, Suicide was a seminal punk band from '70s New York City. Fronted by vocalist Alan Vega and keyboardist Martin Rev, they laid the groundwork for applying electronic elements to rock music and challenged what punk meant and—more importantly—what it could mean.

But that's not what I'm here to discuss. In this article, I want to talk about Vega's biggest secret and what it meant in the context of how he lived his life; I want to talk about his missing decade.

On July 16, 2016, Vega passed away, and soon afterward, the truth was discovered—he was ten years older than he claimed to be. Although lying about one's age isn't particularly uncommon (especially in the dating scene), why would someone lie about a whole decade and maintain that lie throughout one's entire life? To answer this, we need to wind back the clock to 1969.

A Change of Self

Having worked a job he despised at the Welfare Department for a few years, Vega became engrossed in artistic endeavors as an outlet of expression and a coping mechanism for his disdain of the Vietnam War and the economic turmoil he witnessed at the department. His marriage to his first wife, Mariette, had deteriorated over the past few years as his art obsession grew, his social circle expanded, and his life habits changed. He was at the crux of two simultaneous roles: stay-at-home husband to his breadwinner wife—a role she did not mind having—and a vocal advocate for the ramifications of America's war interests, namely the resulting death toll to America's youth.

But as the country grew more divided, Alan felt he could no longer engage in this double life…. He knew what he had to do. (Page 25; B)
Toward the end of 1969, Alan made the fateful decision to leave his home life in Brooklyn and dedicate himself fully to the creative process, in whatever form that was to take. He needed to do this to be fair to Mariette and true to himself as an artist. (Page 53; A)
"I am what I decided to be." – Alan Vega (Page 21; A)

Metaphorically, he committed suicide to the person he once was—a loving, dedicated husband—to become a new person, adopt a new identity, and lead a new life. In his desire to fulfill what he understood as his greater potential, he killed the part of himself that he knew he could no longer fully be in order to pursue the person he was destined to become. Part of this meant sharing his message as the vocalist of a band he named "Suicide."

"To me, Suicide is rebirth, a life thing. Very often, you have to commit suicide in your own life to get to another place which is a better place than you were originally." – Alan Vega (Page 119; B)
"Do not fear death so much but rather the inadequate life." – Bertolt Brecht (Page 289; A)

Frankie Teardrop

Fast forward to 1977—Suicide was working on their debut LP when a newspaper article caught Vega's eye.

He'd been inspired by a story he read in the newspaper about a factory worker who couldn't make ends meet and, in sheer despair, came home and shot his wife and young child before turning the gun on himself. (Page 77; B)
Alan told [Marty Thau, Suicide's producer] about the news article he'd read about the young vet and said he'd felt a connection to the young protagonist's sense of despair. (Page 79; B)

Needless to say, the parallels between Vega and the man in the news article are uncanny. They both acutely understood the misery of an uninspiring job and the pressures of maintaining a stable home life. Although their reactions differed, Vega saw himself in that man, and more importantly, he knew that deep down we're all the same.

"You know, we're all Frankies—we are all Frankie Teardrop." – Roy Trakin (Page 93; A)

To this day, Frankie Teardrop is remembered as their most notorious song. It's visceral, unsettling, confrontational, and honest. Most importantly, it reflects what we are most afraid of.

By stripping away convention, Suicide confronted listeners with what they feared the most: themselves. And maybe the biggest takeaway from their art is to continue to push forward, believe in your vision, and fight every day. (Page 120; B)

Those brave enough to listen to the song once are unlikely to relisten to it, but that's no matter. The lesson of facing our fear of self, metaphorically killing the parts of ourselves we can no longer bear, and finding personal truth can be found upon first listen.

"Life begins on the other side of despair." – Jean-Paul Sartre (Page 197; A)

Then again, there are always those who miss the point entirely and fall face-first into irony.

From the moment the BBC DJ John Peel played "Frankie Teardrop" on Radio 1 he began to receive death threats. (Page 108; B)

Nevertheless, Vega's decision to share this man's story was fueled by a desire to live, to survive, and to thrive. This motive is a celebrated motif throughout their discography and was echoed both by the band and their listeners throughout the band's legacy.

Suicide... The Band About Life and Survival

I don't think there's any better way to discuss the meaning of a band named Suicide than to share some quotes.

Alan had said maybe they could make "suicide" life-giving. What if the "Suicide" in their band meant a new lease on life? (Page 45; B)
Over the years, Alan would often say what the band and its name was about—and that they probably should've been named, "Life." (Page 65; A)
"… it wasn't about death—Suicide—it was about life—it was about rebirth." – Roy Trakin (Page 93; A)
"A name like Suicide for a band which was all about being alive in the moment." – Jesse Malin (Page 296; A)
Suicide aren't harbingers of death but instead are possessed by the burning will to live. (Page 9; B)
Alan Vega always said that Suicide was about love, not death. Suicide is not about alienation but about hope. (Pages 126, 127; B)

Love and hope, indeed.

Suicide was not simply a discography; they were a reminder that we get to both embrace the lives we want and—perhaps more poignantly—discard the parts of ourselves that must perish in the process. They shared with us a new outlook on life and a message worth championing: to grow authentically and actualize our fullest potentials, sometimes we have to commit a little suicide. 👊


Sources

– Infinite Dreams: The Life of Alan Vega by Laura Davis-Chanin & Liz Lamere (2024)
Suicide by Andi Coulter (2020)