A bleak time of highs and lows
Fraser Bremner was living a musician’s dream, until he lost it all to addiction. Tara Shaskey reports.
At the peak of Fraser Bremner’s music career he had it all – endless gigs, celebrity connections, travel opportunities – and any drug he wanted.
‘‘If you’re tired they’d give you something to pick you up, if you’re too wired out they’d give you something to wind you down,’’ the Taranaki man said of the people he met during his time working the Australian music circuit in the mid 2000s.
Then 22 and already in the thick of an alcohol addiction, he was working as a drum technician for international and local acts across Queensland and New South Wales.
The hours were gruelling and the tasks demanding.
Bremner soon fell victim to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle and drugs rapidly became his second crutch.
Foggy days turned into blurred nights and life for the talented musician spiralled into a regrettable web of lies, theft, missed opportunities and broken relationships.
At rock bottom, about 12 years on from the beginning of his love affair with ecstasy, speed and marijuana, he was spending more money on drugs and alcohol than he was earning and his body was starting to pack up.
One morning of August 2016, he woke to see a half glass of vodka and an empty 40-ounce bottle sitting on his bedside table. Next to it was a packed bong and a bag full of weed. He’d had enough.
Now, the 36-year-old has been sober for nearly two and a half years. He is one of about 45,000 New Zealanders receiving support to reduce their alcohol or drug use each year, a figure estimated to be only one-third of those who are experiencing problems with their use.
‘‘I’m putting as much effort as I can into my recovery,’’ he recently shared from the New Plymouth home of his parents.
‘‘I’m very, very proud of myself and the work that I’ve put in.’’
It is only for Bremner’s commitment to the 12-step programme and his family’s unrelenting support that he continues to live free of drugs and alcohol.
His dependencies date back to his high school years when he began experimenting with alcohol. Bourbon and vodka were his poison and he carried this fondness into his time served in the New Zealand Army Band, which he joined once he finished school.
The bars at the military camps sold ‘‘insanely cheap’’ liquor and Bremner, a composer, percussionist and conductor, lapped up the perks every night of the week.
‘‘Alcohol became less of a hobby and turned more into a necessity, I needed it,’’ he recalls.
At the time, Bremner believed drinking made him more of a likeable person when in actual fact it turned him into a ‘‘monster’’.
He was sneaking drinks during the day, and would heavily pick up the pace in the afternoon.
At age 21, he realised he had a problem. It was his last tour with the army band and they were due to head to Nelson.
But Bremner got blind drunk and missed the bus. For the act he faced a military charge and was found guilty. In terms of sentencing, he got off lightly but the conviction remains on his record.
He left the band shortly after and made his way to Australia for work as a drum technician, and was soon introduced to drugs.
Most nights he would pop a
Where to get help
Alcohol Drug Helpline (open 24/7) – 0800 787 797. You can also text
8691 for free.
Alcoholics Anonymous – 0800
229 6757
pill and despite feeling like ‘‘death on legs’’ the next day, he would take another.
‘‘It felt like anything I did I was absolutely amazing,’’ said Bremner, who never felt that of himself when sober.
For the majority of his life he has battled low self-esteem.
The drugs and alcohol appeared to boost his confidence and so he became reliant on the substances to maintain relationships.
‘‘I couldn’t speak to anyone, I couldn’t even leave my bedroom unless I had something to drink or had taken something.’’
In 2007, he wanted to regain control of his life. He moved to Wellington where he began a Bachelor of Music.
But his habits only got worse. He began stealing to support his addictions, couldn’t hold down a flat and dropped out of university following his first year of study.
After many failed attempts to finish his degree, he returned to New Plymouth in 2011.
At this point he attempted to rehabilitate himself, again. But his efforts were weak and his compulsive lying was getting out of hand.
‘‘I half mastered the art of convincing people that things were under control.’’
With a newly acquired pastry chef qualification he moved back to Wellington for work opportunities. But he couldn’t hold down a job and the music gigs had become sporadic. Word had spread within the music community that he was unreliable.
‘‘The only time really that I was actually able to do my job was earlier on when we turned up to do a sound check and then I would go off, I would get completely inebriated and then we would go on stage and I could hardly put one foot in front of the other.’’
No-one would hire him. Bremner had lost everything, and he now felt the only stable element of his life – his family – were also slipping away. He was at an all time low.
He phoned his sister-in-law Angela and for the first time admitted the extent of his addictions.
Following a meeting with the crisis team, he was rushed to hospital. His body was deteriorating and he was running the risk of having a stroke.
He was put into detox and the following months were a ‘‘horrific and painful’’ blur.
But determined he wasn’t going to become a statistic, this time, he stuck it out.
‘‘I didn’t want someone knocking on my parents’ door saying ‘Fraser died from a drug overdose’, or ‘Fraser killed himself because he couldn’t get off the stuff’.’’
Nowadays, Bremner remains heavily involved in 12-step meetings.
He recently became a sponsor to another addict and remains focused on rebuilding his personal relationships.
He hopes to begin a career as a conductor and has lately been composing music for brass bands.
Bremner said the triggers linger but he is committed to clean living, which in turn has greatly improved his self-esteem.
‘‘I no longer need to wake up in the morning and get high or drunk before I can leave my bedroom.
‘‘I can get up and function as normal people do.’’