The Creepshow (band)

Ugggh…I’m sorry my friend but today is not a happy day, after last night’s elections I’m not particularly happy however I’m not surprised.  However this is not a political commentary blog (yet? no…I’m not ready to start loosing friends and alienating people) so

HAPPY WEDNESDAY! <–I’m trying guys

the-creepshow

Possibly my all time favourite album cover art.

Welcome to my first music related post.  Well, technically it’s my second my first being MC Chris is Legit which I mostly did because MC was on tour and I really like that guy and it totally wasn’t a shameless trending-social-media-style cry for attention.  However this is my first post in a new series I’m posting on Wednesdays about bands I like listening to mostly when reading/writing, but not exclusively those bands.  Depending on reactions, I might include pod-cast reviews(1) or consider doing a separate series for that, someday maybe(2).

This being my first post, I wanted to showcase one of my favourite bands to not only give you a taste of what the things put in my ears but also I didn’t have time to investigate the Vitamin String Quartet, sorry Hannah, the wonderful writer at 2b or not 2b writing tips, but this will be next week’s feature. I promise.

The band in question is a Canadian band called The Creepshow. Since forming in 2005 this psychobilly has put out 4 albums, a Halloween single, all under 3 different lead singers.
I was first introduced to this band by one of my chefs, when I used to work in a culinary kitchen which is exactly as scary as it sounds and not at all as exciting as people generally tend to think (3), a monster of a man at 6’5″ (195.6cm) and covered head to toe(4) in tattoos and a very large number of piercings.  Strangely enough, his self description of looking like a “Tatted up George Clooney” was surprisingly accurate and somehow coming from him it wasn’t overly arrogant.  A very interesting man to say the least.  I think he went on to pursue a band full time, but I’ve lost touch with him.  I hope I can convince him to let me do a profile of his band for the blog.  Regardless one late night, he was playing his ipod on shuffle and this song, Sleep Tight, which was a love ballad style song with a dark twist.  What most attracted me was Sarah Blackwood’s voice.  Women singer voices tend to fit better in my ear than mens’, though that is not to say I don’t like men singers it’s just my preference.  I could go on and on about how they’ve evolved as a band and how each of the 3 lead singers have left their stylistic mark on the band’s music but I’ll let that be up to you to discover and discuss in the comments.  The following is a list of their albums and my favourite songs from each album.  Continue reading

Lean into the Pain

george-michael-bluth-sadwalk

Source: Arrested Development S02E04 “Good Grief!”

I’m depressed today. Lean into the pain they tell me.

I remember I didn’t celebrate the 4th that year, 2014.  She said she needed space the weekend before and went to stay with her cousin. All week I was alone with her things in our apartment. July 4th was a Friday. She met me at home after school. I wanted to propose.  It was the day before our three year anniversary.  We talked for so long.  Neither one of us could remember what we had fought or said about seven days prior that made her pack up. We sat and talked for so long.  Then we cried together. Holding each other, getting the other slimy with our snot.

We moved from the couch to the kitchen table. I think she had some food she needed to take home with her. The apartment was no longer our home. It became her temporary storage unit; it became my open cell.

I walked her out to her car.  We hugged.  She slipped, from habit, and said “I love you”.

“I know.” my inner Han Solo replied for me.

I went out, after she drove away in her red convertible, and bought a 1.75L bottle of Bacardi white rum & juice (grapefruit iirc).  Two liters of juice. I drank all the rum, one liter of grapefruit juice, and woke up on my kitchen floor the next mourning.

I kept drinking like that for the next six months until December 5th, her birthday.  I didn’t celebrate my birthday(1) that year. My George Clooney with lots of tattoos looking boss made me work, and bitter about his own life, while guilt tripping me about how he couldn’t remember the last birthday he had and how his wife left him and generally showing me how much bigger his saddness boner was.  Everyone forgot my birthday that year except for me.  I was trying to forget by the end though.

By December: I had lost my job, I dropped(2) out of school, and I had accumulated $5.000 in credit card debt.  On the fifth, a grey and wet mourning, I walked 1.8 miles or 2.897km to the nearest Schnucks off Grand and Gravois. On the way, I passed a forgotten a 2 foot or 60.96cm sub sandwich that was still in its package and untouched off Grand.  At the store I bought two 1.75L bottles of cheap clear booze and 2 gallons or 7.571L of cheap orange juice(3).  I checked out precisely at 7am(4) and the cashier lady gave me a look.  I couldn’t tell if it was envy or pity.  I wasn’t looking too closely.  It was a Friday.

On the way home, I took the sub with me.  I drank and slept and ate and drank and slept until late in the evening when, apparently, I called a couple friends of mine, as in a couple whom I was friends with, and they took me to get some tacos.  I was violently shaky.  Couldn’t eat.  Mentioned wanting some bam bams.  Got pulled aside and threatened with violence. They left me at my place.  Told them I was going to drink and pill myself.  They yelled at me, from the safety of their vehicle, “Get back in the fucking car.”

So cold and shaky.  I couldn’t hold a drink.  I vomit on my laptop.  I ran a bath to warm my self up.  I fell asleep in the tub naked and alone.

Two year later and I’ve sobered up but the pain pulses weakly still.

 

Footnotes:

  1. 23, September 1988
  2. Technically, I graduated early but I was one absent day from being kicked out.  Also my grades were piss.  However it was a technical school so I guess technicalities count.
  3. I’m not even sure if the stuff is real orange juice or if it is its like that stuff from the cardboard tube that you add water to that tastes like orange water.
  4. The earliest legal time one can purchase alcohol in St Louis, or earliest that I was aware of at the time.  It might have been moved back to 6.30am.