Hard lesson
Dale Watson comes to terms with tragedy
The year 2000 was filled with turmoil and change for Dale Watson. The Austin, Texas, singer was working through a divorce, sorting out legal problems with his former label and starting an intense new relationship with fellow Austinite Terri Herbert. Touring endlessly, living on the edge and partying hard when he had the chance, Watson was struggling to keep classic country music alive, even as mainstream radio refused to play his songs. But Watson's fragile hold on his sanity finally slipped away one fateful night, when Herbert died in an accident on her way to see him perform in Houston. The tragedy thrust the singer further downward, inspiring some of his most powerful music before he hit rock bottom. The saga of his recovery is a testament to the resiliency of human nature, and hopefully the beginning of a happy ending in spite of the sadness.
"Losing Terri has made me appreciate what I have," says Watson over the phone from his Austin home, as he fixes hot dogs for his daughters. "I am still in love with her, and will move on when it's time. I have been writing songs about the good things I care about."
Following the accident, Watson channeled his grief into his music, writing and recording an entire album in tribute to Herbert. Every Song I Write Is for You was finished around Christmas 2000. Watson then handed his manager a wad of cash, told him to make sure the album was released, and checked into an Austin hotel, where he overdosed on drugs and alcohol. Found before they had any lethal effect, Watson was briefly hospitalized, and with assistance from the Austin-based SIMS Foundation (an organization providing low-cost mental health services to musicians), he sought treatment.
"I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, based on my reaction to the loss," Watson says. "I was replaying the event over and over in my head, like a record stuck in a groove."
Based on this diagnosis, Watson underwent Eye Movement Desensitization and Retraining, a revolutionary but controversial therapy developed by Francine Shapiro. The treatment includes a unique component wherein the therapist instructs the client to focus on an object moving rapidly back and forth in front of them while thinking about the traumatic event.
Watson praises the treatment. "It saved me, got me over the hump I was stuck on," he says. "I had three sessions, and it was like a magic elixir for me."
Atlanta psychologist Robert Montgomery, who wrote his doctoral dissertation on the subject, points out some of the questionable issues surrounding the treatment. "EMDR is a fairly comprehensive package of Cognitive Behavior Therapy interventions, with the eye movement added on," he says. "Current research suggests that the eye movement component is actually inert, but not harmful."
Nevertheless, Montgomery acknowledges the effectiveness of the treatment. "Shapiro's theory makes the problems physical, thus taking out the personal blame," he says. "It appeals to people who would normally not seek therapy. And if they get well, that's good."
In the summer of 2000, before Herbert's death, Watson recorded and released a live album in Europe. The edited version, Live In London ... England!, is now available in the U.S. from Audium Entertainment. It accurately captures Watson's amazing performances, and is loaded with previously unrecorded original tunes and choice covers of his biggest influences. Scattered throughout the disc are tirades on the sad state of contemporary country music, with plenty of names thrown out as examples.
"That is my last defiant album," Watson says. "Nowadays I am much less angry than I used to be, and I have more respect for what others do — even if it isn't what I would be doing."