Just how enlarged was Mihkel Kaup’s heart when he was first diagnosed?
“This big,” 40-year-old said, showing me with his hands. “The size of a good couch cushion.”
The Colwood rock singer and guitarist suffers from idiopathic dilated cardiomyopathy. That’s a fancy way of referring to a weakened, enlarged heart that fails to pump blood as it should. The “idiopathic” part simply means the cause is unknown.
Kaup — who has a ZZ Top-ish beard, hipster glasses and a gentle, thoughtful manner — may be down. But he certainly isn’t out. Not by a long shot.
He sings and plays in an ultra-loud, droning, psychedelic rock band, the High Arctic, that he describes as “kind of like Grateful Dead meets Black Sabbath or something.” On Monday night, the High Arctic shares a bill at Logan’s Pub with Acid Mother’s Temple and Tjutjuna.
Joining Kaup on bass is Scott Henderson, a 54-year-old Sooke musician and recording engineer who is widely regarded as this city’s reigning punk-rock guru. Henderson, too, suffers from a heart problem. He has atrial flutter, which results in abnormal — and sometimes super-fast — heart rates.
The condition was severe enough to send Henderson to hospital about seven times, where he received electrical shocks to jolt his heart back to a normal rhythm. A couple of months ago he underwent an ablation, a surgical procedure in which abnormal areas of heart tissue are removed. Henderson — who for an interview sported a ponytail, ball cap and plaid shirt — says he’s now starting to feel back to normal.
“It’s worked out,” he said, “as long as I don’t drink 10 beers.”
For the High Arctic show, Henderson will be seated. He has rheumatoid arthritis; standing for hours with a heavy bass guitar hurts his back. On top of that, he’s missing 10 ribs and most of a lung, the legacy of a teenage gun accident (a friend accidentally blasted him in the chest with a Vietnamese assault rifle).
Many with less significant health problems than Henderson and Kaup’s would sit at home feeling sorry for themselves. Not this pair. Now living on a disability allowance, Kaup books music acts at Logan’s Pub and plays in other bands with names such as Golden Hand and Crashing Into Things. Henderson works as soundman at Logan’s and is a part-time recording engineer who plays with other musicians such as David P. Smith and People’s War.
“I’m not going to tip-toe around life,” Henderson said. “It’s the musicians’ attitude. The attitude of most musicians is, ‘the show must go on.’ ”
Kaup, nodding, added: “Is a carpenter going to stop carving wood?”
Of the two, Kaup’s medical condition seems the most acute. A year ago, he started feeling unwell. He could barely make it up his front steps. At night he’d fall asleep only to awaken minutes later feeling like he’d just run a marathon.
A chest X-ray revealed Kaup not only had a severely enlarged heart, he had a blot clot “half the size of my fist.” His heart was functioning at only 20 per cent capacity. At one point, Kaup was so ill, he was eligible for a heart transplant.
“When I went into the hospital they had me sign off on everything, life support, all that kind of stuff, immediately. They didn’t think I was going to make it out of there,” he said.
Kaup started a regime of drug therapy (including blood thinners) changed his diet and lost 50 pounds. He stopped drinking and smoking. He has doubled his heart function, which is good, although doctors say full recovery is unlikely.
He is the lead singer for the High Arctic. As front man, Kaup must move around, creating a visual focus. Sometimes he feels dizzy on stage.
“I try to keep going and try to make it so nobody else notices,” he said.
His wife sometimes frets about his life as a rock musician, which requires physical exertion and late nights. Kaup has a baby, Violet, and a four-year-old son, Daniel. Happily, in the High Arctic, Kaup and Henderson’s bandmates have stepped up to do any heavy lifting (amplifiers, etc.).
The pair have a sense of humour about their respective ailments. One of the High Arctic’s songs is Heart Failure (which you can find at higharctic.band camp.com). The track, a noise-rock freakout, is accompanied by an X-ray of Kaup’s grossly enlarged heart.
His cardiologist would prefer he not play in high-decibel rock bands. Indeed, the doc finds the rocker to be a most unusual patient indeed.
Said Kaup: “He is amazed at my outlook on it all.”
