Late nights, life on the road, booze and bad habits. The rock star lifestyle is the slipperiest of slopes.
Ash Grunwald knows all about it.
In 2017, the blues and roots star was shattered. The pressures of life in the public eye, touring, constantly creating, regular binge drinking, was dragging his health.
Both Ash and his wife Danni Carr were on the alcohol treadmill, and it was time to get off.
Grunwald faced his demons, and flushed them out with a guide to getting sober, “How I Quit Alcohol: A Rock N Roll Guide To Sobriety & Living Well,” which he co-wrote with Carr.
“I think a lot of people have been there, or are still there, suffering in silence with alcohol problems. Hopefully the sharing of our story is helpful,” Grunwald tells Tone Deaf. “We just want to help to help people who want it and share our story. And hopefully reduce the stigma around this topic.”
In it, the couple open up on their drinking and how it impacted them, their kids, friends and family, and setting a course for the other side.
“Sometimes there’s a stigma with pulling up completely. It’s almost as if, you quit alcohol then you must have been a really big alcoholic,” he admits.
“So, that keeps you drinking past your used-by date. I don’t necessarily think it’s helpful to get too bogged down in definitions. If it’s not serving you there’s nothing wrong with making a change.”
The partners have “never looked back since quitting,” he insists, but the book was not written with “missionary zeal” in mind. It’s about starting a conversation. “We’re not trying to convince anyone else of anything. But for somebody who’s worried that they might be drinking too much I think it’s perfect.”
The book is two years in the making. And “quite a crazy undertaking,” he says.
“Danni and I both have pretty full-on careers so it took a while. I’d been toying with the idea silence I finished my first book (“Surf by Day, Jam by Night”), which touched on the fact that we quit alcohol for a year. But that was written six years ago.”
In that time, Danni has been presenting the podcast “how I quit alcohol” and running retreats, online challenges and continues to helm the global waste reduction company Earth Bottles. “She’s helped a lot of people,” he explains. “So we thought it would be perfect to write a book together.”
Dropping today, September 13th, “How I Quit Alcohol: A Rock N Roll Guide To Sobriety & Living Well” delves into the psychology and mental health around addiction, cleaning up your act and the challenges of doing so as a touring musician.
Below, Tone Deaf exclusively presents an extract from the book. Order here.
View this post on Instagram
Chapter 5. “THE BINGE DRINKER’S TREADMILL”
Ash: In 2006, I had the incredible opportunity to support the amazing Cat Empire. They were on fire, drawing crowds that could fill a small stadium with around eight thousand people at every show!
We found ourselves on some big stages, like the iconic Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne. I’ll always remember this one particular solo performance there. A buddy of mine took a photo to capture the moment, and when I looked at it, I felt like a mere speck on that colossal stage.
The whole tour was like that. Every night, we stepped onto stages that seemed to stretch to infinity, and the energy from the massive crowd was electrifying. It was a time when music felt larger than life, and I was living the dream.
One night just before that Music Bowl show, Harry Angus, the co-lead singer and a great friend of mine, turns to me with his signature cheeky grin and asks,
‘Are you having a few drinks tonight?’
I remember that moment clearly, the anticipation of the big show in the air.
‘I’d love to, brother, but I’ve been trying not to drink on this tour. I’ll hold off until it’s over. We can have a couple of drinks together then.’
Famous last words. Little did I know that my abstinence was like an elastic band, the more disciplined I felt as a drinker the more I’d eventually… well I’ll get to that.
Fast-forward to the last show of the tour in Brisbane. We were set to perform at Riverstage, and the lineup was stacked. I kicked things off, followed by The Beautiful Girls, Blue King Brown, and the grand finale, The Cat Empire.
The crowd was amazing, and my set felt electric. I left that stage relieved, stoked, and ready for a well-earned party.
After my set, I had to race into Brisbane to host a one-off special on Bluesfest that would be shown on TV. It was a collection of outstanding live performances, and all I had to do was introduce the acts. It was an honour and fun, but I was nervous as hell.
I smashed a few beers as I was driving to the studio, and as I was getting through the takes, I kept gulping the beers, noticing my nerves start to settle.
It’s funny, whenever you come unstuck, you can look back and do a lot of post-fuck-up-forensics. You see that it’s usually caused by a rare combination of factors. In this case, I was always destined to get blind because it was the last show of the tour, and I’d been abstaining all this time. But suppose you throw an unusual situation that makes you nervous or excited into the equation. Then you’re looking at a killer combo.
I returned to Riverstage in time to watch The Cat Empire preside over thousands of screaming fans. As the music pulsed through the air and the crowd roared with excitement, I found myself swept up in the electrifying energy of the concert. They were in their element, commanding the stage with effortless charisma as thousands of people danced and sang along to their every beat.
With another drink in hand, I watched from the sidelines, soaking in the atmosphere and revelling in the joyous chaos around me.
When the boys finally finished their set, the backstage area erupted into a frenzy of celebration. We clinked glasses and toasted to our shared success, the cheers and laughter echoing through the night air. Considering that I was already at least six drinks in when they got off stage, and they were just starting, I decided to leave the hire car behind at the venue.
With a slight wobble in my step, I made my way to the commuter van with the rest of the band. But as luck would have it, there were no available seats left, leaving me with little choice but to claim a spot on the floor. So, there I was, sprawled out amidst a sea of legs, chatting away with the guys as we made our way to some random pub.
As the van rumbled down the darkened streets, I couldn’t help but laugh at the surrealness of the moment. Here I was, living out my rock ‘n’ roll fantasy. I’d just finished up one of the best tours of my career. I was surrounded by music and friends I admired, and I was completely lost in the thrill of the night. Little did I know, the evening was only just beginning.
I had this habit of getting into these cocktail and spirit fads back then. I’d get fanatical and then move on to the next very strong drink. It never occurred to me that maybe I was more into getting fucked up than the specifics of the flavours and aromas I could be found pontificating about.
At this particular moment, I was all about a drink called a Rusty Nail, made from Drambuie and scotch. It’s not the sort of thing the casual drinker swills while already dehydrated on a balmy Brisbane night.
My main memory from the pub is me screaming,
‘Salvadore! Roll a joint!’ across the bar.
Ash Grunwald and Danni Carr photo credit Danielle Smith
I even remember shouting a couple of Rusty Nails for Harry and Felix, and my voice was booming across the place. Looking back now, as someone who is generally quiet and mellow offstage, I want to hide under a rock. When I think about these moments of being loud and obnoxious, it makes me cringe.
You see, I’ve got a pretty sizable head, a wide mouth, and a barrel chest. That’s why I’ve got a booming singing voice, but when I’ve had a couple, I can be downright annoying without even realising it.
During my U.S. tour with Xavier Rudd, it seemed like every night was a party. For six weeks straight, I had a drink in hand, following the same routine – sign CDs, down tequila and beer, and convince myself I was just chatting away. But looking back, I was probably shouting my head off by midnight.
One morning, after a particularly wild night, I decided to join Xav for a run. As we jogged along, he turned to me with that classic Aussie sincerity and said something like,
‘Mate, it’s all good to let loose after the gig, but your voice just gets so damn loud!’
It was a wake-up call, to say the least. Here I was, thinking I was just having a good time, but in reality, my behaviour was affecting those around me.
That moment stuck with me, highlighting one of the peculiarities of alcohol – its ability to impact each of us differently. Alcohol has this funny way of magnifying our quirks, and for me, it meant turning up the volume a few notches too high.
***
Alright, let’s rewind a bit. So, there I was, back at the pub, fully embracing party mode. I was hollering across the bar for that joint and another round of Rusty Nails, feeling like I was on top of the world. But little did I know, that was the last clear memory I’d have for the night before I entered the dreaded blackout zone.
The next thing I knew, I was snapping back to reality in a dingy alley behind the pub, my head pounding like a drum and my mouth drier than the Sahara. The combination of all-day drinking, those lethal Rusty Nails, the sweltering heat, and the lack of hydration hit me hard.
I remember thinking as I was half-passed out,
‘You know what? I’m okay here.’
Harry or someone from the Cat Empire offered to take me somewhere, but I declined. I couldn’t even remember where my hotel was, and that warmth felt kind of nice.
But then Pete Wilkins, the drummer from Blue King Brown (who would later tour and record with me on the Now album), stepped in and insisted I join them. He helped me back to their place and tossed me into one of the spare beds.
The next morning, the hangover hit me like a freight train, right in the sweltering Brisbane heat. Somehow, I managed to get a taxi to my car, drove to the airport, and hopped on a plane. I’d never felt so dreadful in my life. By the time I landed back in Melbourne, I was an absolute mess.
I rushed to the toilet, vomited, and then, as I went back for my bags, I had to dart back to the bathroom again. This routine continued until the hangover started playing tricks on me.
I’d head for my bag, feel the need to run back to the toilet, only to return without hurling. This went on for a bit, and then it happened. Right when I was furthest from the toilet, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I puffed out my cheeks, and it sprayed out horizontally. Embarrassed, I ran away from the scene, cleaned myself up, and finally grabbed my bags.
Danni, bless her soul, was the one picking me up from the airport that day. As soon as she saw me stumbling out, reeking of last night’s booze, she couldn’t hold back.
‘Why did you get so wasted?’ she asked, her tone a mix of concern and disbelief.
So, there I was, barely able to stand, covered in specks of vomit, but I knew I had to spill the beans. I told her everything that had gone down the night before, the wild partying, the blackout before waking up in the alleyway. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any crazier, Danni dropped a bombshell of her own.
‘Well, you won’t like this, but I’m pregnant!’ she announced, her eyes wide with shock.
And just like that, in the midst of my hangover haze, I found out we were expecting our first child, Sunny. It was like a lightning bolt to the brain, a wake-up call ringing loud and clear. But the big question remained – did I actually pay attention to it?
Despite my honest attempts, the journey towards change was far from smooth sailing. Time and time again, I found myself falling back into old habits despite my best intentions. It seemed like my subconscious was determined to cling to its familiar comfort zone, even when it was clear that change was vital for my well-being and the future of our expanding family.
When our efforts to change fall short, it’s easy to point fingers or make excuses. But the truth is, it’s not about blame – it’s about our subconscious, happily cruising on autopilot. It loves its comfort zone and will fight tooth and nail to stay there, even if it’s doing us more harm than good.
When we act from our conscious mind, we make conscious decisions and use our willpower to elicit change. However, it takes a lot of effort to stay in the conscious mind, and our subconscious wants the old patterns back. So how do we change?
We have to educate our subconscious mind and teach it to change through repetition, daily practice, daily journaling, and challenging our old thought patterns.
As Dr. Wayne Dyer says,
‘Progress and growth are impossible if you always do things the way you’ve always done things.’
If you think the same thoughts, you will have the same emotions. If you have the same emotions, you will take the same actions, and if you take the same actions, you will have the same outcomes.
We want to create new outcomes by disrupting the old way of thinking, the old patterns and behaviours.
The first step is becoming consciously aware. This is not always easy, but when you can become aware of your negative patterns, try to challenge them. Do something different, choose a different thought, even laugh at the old familiar voice saying the same familiar thing.
When that voice gets in your ear and tells you that it’s okay to have just one drink. Laugh at it! Say,
‘I know what you’re up to, and you won’t fool me again.’
Each time you challenge it and win, you create new neural pathways, making it easier and easier next time.
When you take personal responsibility for the way you feel and act, you take control of your life rather than leaving it up to the whims of your external environment, which, as we know, can change at any point.
When you observe your thoughts, you can question the validity of them, just like your limiting self-beliefs.
Often, we believe things about ourselves or our circumstances to be accurate but don’t question the evidence we have to support those beliefs. See your beliefs as a tabletop and the evidence that supports those beliefs as the legs. If you knock out the legs from under the table, there is nothing to hold it up, and it collapses. You create doubt by looking at the evidence in a different way.
You can use this same method to create new, more positive beliefs about yourself. You need to have your own back, as no one else can do this for you. Luckily, our brains have great neuroplasticity, and even if your heart isn’t 100% into it, this hack works. You can begin a gentle rewrite of your story by practising it, and you can use this with all thoughts you have about alcohol or any limiting belief you have about your life.
If you’re struggling to believe you can change, remember a time in your life when you felt confident or achieved something you didn’t think you could. Even if that thing was way back in childhood.
Maybe it was scoring a goal in your favourite sport, cooking something wonderful, training a pet to do a trick, or helping someone.
We all have something we thought we couldn’t do, and we managed to do it. And this challenge is exactly the same.
You have it in you.
You can change.
You just have to make the choice.
You always have a choice.
You choose if you’re going to put a drink to your lips, you choose if you’re going to hit the fuck-it button, or you choose to sit with your feelings and make it through this.
You CAN do it.
“How I Quit Alcohol: A Rock N Roll Guide To Sobriety & Living Well” is available from Friday, Sept. 13. Order here.
