Trapper Schoepp’s first encounter with the worst disease he’d ever face came at a doctor’s office. Schoepp was dealing with chronic pain as a result of some BMX injuries and surgeries that had left him feeling a bit like “Frankenstein” and his doctor had decided the best course of treatment was a steady supply of pain pills. “You ain’t gave me nothing but a loaded gun,” Schoepp sings of the encounter.
Osborne is an album that traces addiction from first contact to recovery. It documents highs, lows, freedom, hopelessness, and searing anger. In our discussion, Schoepp admitted that it was difficult for him to talk about the issues that he faced. Addiction still isn’t an easy subject despite the overwhelming number of people who have faced it.
“There’s a mental health epidemic in America and an addiction epidemic in America. We’ve come a long way in terms of mental health and normalizing it, but I think addiction’s another thing,” said Schoepp. “There’s a lot of shame and isolation and guilt attached to it. What people need is acceptance and community and love. They don’t need more shame. A lot of people feel great shame for their addiction and it creates this vicious cycle.”
Schoepp sings on the album that he likes to do what he feels. BMX biking seemed like a good outlet for that.
“It felt artistic at times. It was a cool way to express yourself as a kid,” said Schoepp. These days he expresses himself through music after injuries derailed him in more ways than one. “[It was] some pretty gnarly stuff for a kid to go through. The spinal decompression surgery was a tough one.”
Schoepp was given opioids by a doctor who seemed like he couldn’t prescribe enough pain pills to the young man, who was suffering from conditions like sciatica. While the album suggests the doctor should be classified as a criminal, Schoepp took a more nuanced approach in our conversation.
“I think a doctor is influenced by an environment much greater than themself,” said Schoepp. “At the time, the environment was to put bandaids over pain that was deemed chronic or incurable. In some instances they’re warranted, especially in clinical settings. They’re dangerous. There needs to be more guardrails. Those medications have a way of tricking and training your brain.”
The environment Schoepp described had to do with an aggressive marketing push by Purdue Pharmaceutical, run by the Sackler family. There’s a little less nuance here and on the album, where Schoepp sings “Satan is a Sackler.”
“The Sackler family really popularized the idea that chronic pain had to be treated forever,” Schoepp said. “They were really responsible for the opioid epidemic in America. They created this empire of pain. They were evil geniuses for creating the illness of chronic pain. They knew what they had. They knew it was highly addictive and they promoted it anyway. They blamed poor people in rural communities for getting addicted to their substances and they didn’t take responsibility.”
The judicial system decided they should take responsibility and forced them to pay $7.4 billion for their malfeasance.
“There’s no amount of money for the pain that they caused, but it’s something,” said Schoepp, who said he’d be uncomfortable holding a bottle of pills to this day. The opioids served as a gateway drug into other substances for Schoepp, much like they did for many other Americans who became addicted by following their prescriptions.
“Osborne” isn’t a bleak album. It gets its name from the unit of a standout rehab facility Schoepp attended in Minnesota. It also happens to be the same facility Ozzy Osbourne recovered in.
“If Ozzy can do it, I can do it,” Schoepp remembered thinking.
The process of recovery involved letting go of some hard feelings and developing willpower.
“It came in a couple different waves. I white knuckled getting off pain killers and it was absolute hell,” said Schoepp. “I came back into some other substances that I thought were not as addictive but ended up being just as much as an issue for me. I kind of went mad and I ended up at the Hazleton Betty Ford Clinic in Minnesota where you address the whole person.”
The approach has paid off. Schoepp moved past the attitude on display on the tragic and gorgeous “Tomorrow’s For Quittin’” and stuck with it. It certainly wasn’t a linear process, he explained, but by the time we spoke, Schoepp was wearing a sunhat and sitting in a field of sunflowers, speaking soulfully about what he went through.
“I think you need to follow your nose and follow your heart. Do the best you can and don’t be too hard on yourself That’s a big thing in recovery,” said Schoepp. “You go in trying to fix everything and you get this analysis paralysis. There are just little things you can do to get through the day.”
Schoepp says he’s still growing and considers himself and his art a work in progress. He chose to end the album on a note of encouragement. “Suicide Summer” is seemingly addressed to other addicts with much the same message he felt Ozzy was sending him: if he can make it, “so can you.”
“I think it’s easier to not deal with something and move on,” Schoepp said. “The brave thing is to go head on into the storm.”
Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Trapper Schoepp and the songs we discussed, starting with Loaded, which introduces us to his first encounter with prescription painkillers.. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 4pm on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://trapperschoepp.com for more.
Country Pocket 