#the original four were just a group of college frat bros

[here-comes-the-moose]

What I Headcanon the Vibes Were Between Echo Joining the Batch and Omega Joining Them, Using this TikTok Audio Mashup:

CPR: Crosshair

Misery: Echo

Reese’s Puffs: Wrecker

Thank you I will be taking no further questions at this time except I totally will

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: Night of the Creeps

When a boutique label announces a new Blu-ray edition of a cult film that has already received the high-definition treatment with a great transfer and a variety of special features, said label must go above and beyond to entice fans to double dip. Scream Factory did just that for the Night of the Creeps Collector's Edition Blu-ray, producing several new extras to accompany the existing ones, along with two cuts of the film.

Night of the Creeps kicks off with a prologue set in 1959 aboard a spacecraft, where aliens - or, more accurately, little people in foam rubber alien suits - shoot a mysterious canister into space. Playing up the 1950s sci-fi tropes, the film briefly turns black and white as the canister lands on Earth. Johnny (Ken Heron) and Pam (Alice Cadogan) cut their necking at Lover's Lane short to explore the crash site, where they discover parasitic slugs that pop into a host's mouth, turning them into lumbering zombies. Oh, and an escaped mental patient is on the loose too.

The film cuts back to color for pledge week of 1986, where we meet geeky college kid Chris (Jason Lively, European Vacation) and his goofball best friend, J.C. (Steve Marshall). In a fairly progressive move, J.C. is physically handicapped without it being a plot point, although it helps for him to live vicariously through Chris. The friends pledge for the coolest fraternity on campus in an effort to impress a pretty girl, Cynthia (Jill Whitlow, Porky's). Unfortunately for them, Cynthia is dating Brad (Allan Kayser, Mama's Family), a stereotypical frat bro. To prove their commitment, the Bradster challenges Chris and J.C. to steal a corpse. The smitten Chris convinces J.C. to help him break into the local medical facility, where they thaw out Johnny, who has been cryogenically frozen since the incident three decades earlier. The small town is soon infested with space slugs.

Genre legend Tom Atkins (Halloween III: Season of the Witch) co-stars as Ray Cameron, who was a rookie cop that responded to the scene back in the '50s. Now he's a detective on the case, and he achieves Bruce Campbell levels of acerbic humor. From his "Thrill me" catchphrase to lines like "What is this: a homicide or a bad B-movie?" every word out of his mouth is pure gold. It's no wonder that Atkins cites it as his favorite movie that he's been in; quite impressive given his resume and the caliber of talent with which he has worked.

Beyond Atkins' scenery chewing, the rest of the cast seems to be having just as much fun. The chemistry between Lively, Marshall, and Whitlow is palpable, with all three perfectly assuming their archetypal roles. It's amusing to see Kayser removed from his sitcom persona to play a mega-douche. Several other genre favorites and character actors are in the cast: Suzanne Snyder (Killer Klowns from Outer Space) has a small role as a sorority girl; Dick Miller (Gremlins) pops up as a police officer; David Paymer (Drag Me to Hell) plays an ill-fated scientist; and filmmaker Shane Black (Iron Man 3, The Predator) has an uncredited role as a cop extra.

Much of the credit for Night of the Creeps' success goes to first-time writer-director Fred Dekker (The Monster Squad), who embraces the picture's B-movie roots with his tongue planted firmly in cheek. Dekker names many of the characters after famous horror directors of the era (Carpenter, Hooper, Romero, Cronenberg, Landis, Raimi, etc.); a tired, amateurish trope now, but it was a fun tip of the hat back in '86. Dekker is in on the joke, as the pastiche of genre cliches are deconstructed in loving homages to the greats that came before it, and he elevates it with ample heart.

The practical effects - ranging from decomposing bodies to heads that split apart - were headed by David B. Miller (A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Terminator), with Robert Kurtzman and Howard Berger of KNB EFX Group (Scream, From Dusk Till Dawn) working under him, and Ted Rae (Game of Thrones, Beetlejuice) handling the animatronics and visual effects. (All four of them appear as frat zombies too.) The film features cinematography by Robert C. New (Prom Night, Lionheart) and an ominous synthesize score by Barry De Vorzon (The Warriors, The Exorcist III). Steve Miner (Halloween H20, Friday the 13th Parts 2 and 3) served as second unit director.

Night of the Creeps originally hit Blu-ray from Sony back in 2009, when studios still invested in their library titles. Scream Factory's new Collector's Edition features the same sharp transfer, but the two-disc set includes both the theatrical and director's cuts of the film. They're identical with the exception of the final coda, but it's nice to have the option rather than merely including the alternate ending as a deleted scene. Scream Factory also offered a now-sold-out deluxe edition with an action figure of Atkins' character produced by NECA and an exclusive slipcover with new art. The standard retail version has its own slip with the poster artwork. Both versions include reversible cover art.

Let's start with the new extras: Lively, Kayser, Heron, Snyder, and fellow actor Vic Polizos, plus editor Michael N. Knue each sit down for individual interviews. The cast members are all fun as they look back on the production fondly (although Kayser's audio quality is distractingly poor; it sounds like they had to use the on-camera microphone rather than a boom or lavalier), while Knue adds a particularly interesting perspective. There's also a new installment of Horror's Hallowed Grounds, in which host Sean Clark is joined by Dekker and Lively for a walk down memory lane at the shooting locations as they appear today.

Beyond that, all of extras from the previous edition are ported over, including two audio commentaries on the director's cut. The first, featuring Dekker and moderator Michael Felsher of Red Shirt Pictures, is loaded with information but comes across as casual. The second, a high-energy track with Lively, Marshall, Whitlow, and Aktins, clearly illustrates the camaraderie among the cast; Atkins can barely get a word in edgewise among the chatty actors, who seem to gleefully regress to their younger selves.

A five-part retrospective covers the making of the film with many of those who were involved, from inception to cast to special effects to post-production to its legacy. The documentary totals just about an hour; my only gripe is that it doesn't have a "play all" option. A career-spanning, 20-minute interview with Atkins finds the veteran actor discussing Creeps along with such fan favorites as The Fog, Escape from New York, Creepshow, Halloween III, and Lethal Weapon. Finally, deleted scenes and the theatrical trailer are included.

Night of the Creeps holds up as a fun horror-comedy with a youthful spirit; the likes of which could only be borne by the '80s. Beneath the campy veneer lay a healthy dose of atmosphere and impressive special effects. Perhaps most importantly, Dekker - who, at only 26, was not far removed from the main characters - was able to inject a John Hughes-esque sincerity and authenticity to the story. The plethora of special features, both new and old, make Scream Factory's Collector’s Edition Blu-ray worth the upgrade.

Night of the Creeps is available now on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

/1/ /2/ /3/ /4/ /5/ /6/ /7/ /8/ /9/ /10/ /11/ /12/ /13/ /14/ /15/ /16/ /17/ /18/

Chapter 19.

“It’s Terminator!”

“It's Terminator 2,” Noble mutters, glancing overhead at the oversized television screen in the corner of the bar.

“No, dude.” His friend Andrew -- the groom-to-be in this group -- insists across the pub table from us. The loud rendition of the Beastie Boys’ Hey Ladies plays over the one minute window of time each trivia team in the bar has to answer the question: What was the first Arnold Schwarzenegger movie to win four Academy Awards? “Terminator 2?” Andrew disputes. “Fuck no. It's never a sequel.”

“Terminator 2 is like, the known superior Terminator,” Noble argues.

“You guys,” Sebastian cuts in, another guy in our group. “It's Jingle All The Way.”

“It's Kindergarten Cop!”

“Oh my god,” Noble complains, shaking his head at me as I can't help but laugh at the idiotic suggestions from his friends. “Fucking write something.”

“It's kind of hard to top the original though,” I offer.

“Exactly,” Andrew points his pen at me. “See? He's a lawyer, he knows.”

“But that's not the question,” I reason. “The question’s about awards, not which one you feel is a classic.”

Noble's friend glances down to start scribbling. “You guys are clowns. It's Terminator.” Then he stands up and takes his slip of paper with the answer up to the deejay who stands in front of the TVs.

Amused, I reach for my beer and shake my head. When Noble -- who is strictly Nick tonight -- told me we were bound for a bachelor party, sitting with four other guys in a mundane sports bar playing pub trivia is not what I expected, especially considering Noble's usual knack for finding trouble. But it was entertaining enough and I wasn't exactly interested in waiting in a long line outside some insufferable club.

The music fades as the deejay pipes up, “Allll-right. What was the first Arnold Schwarzenegger movie to win four Academy Awards? Believe it or not, it was Terminator 2: Judgment Day--”

“What?!” Shouts an incredulous Andrew and Noble tips his head back with a dramatic eyeroll.

“You're fired,” Noble announces, reaching over to steal the pen.

“The category is sports,” the deejay calls out as he goes to his laptop and clicks to the next question on the screen to display on the television. “In boxing, who is the youngest, undisputed heavyweight champion of all time?”

As he draws out the last word of the question like a typical radio announcer, the opening of Santeria by Sublime settles over the bar.

I tilt over to Noble. “It's Mike Tyson.”

His pen stalls as he lifts his gaze to me. “It's Muhammad Ali.”

I reach over and pull the pen from his hand before I lean in to write what I know is the correct answer on the small piece of paper.

“Dude,” he calls out, dismayed with hands spread as I push my chair back.

I glance back at him over my shoulder with a smirk. “I'm right.”

“You better be right, Jamie,” Sebastian scoffs as he turns to survey the bar. “Because I'm about to forfeit and order some shots.”

“Shots are a good idea either way,” Noble decides.

When I return, I don't miss the chance to lay a firm hand on his shoulder and I give it a rough squeeze.

He clears his throat and adjusts in his chair. “Are we winning?”

“No.” I chuckle, settling in beside him. “But I know my boxing titles.”

“Well I know Schwarzenegger movies,” he announces to the table, pointing his beer bottle at Andrew before he intentionally gets louder -- “but nobody listens to me!”

Already it takes considerable effort not to respond to that the same way I would in private so I just let the curve of a smile tease my mouth before I hide it with my beer.

“Allll-right--” The deejay cuts in, the way he does every time he's about to declare the answer, the music fading. “In boxing, who is the youngest, undisputed heavyweight champion of all time?” He recites. “The answer was Mike. Tyson.”

Half the tables in the bar cheer for themselves while I tilt my head to give Noble a look.

He spreads his hands to answer to it. “I doubted you. What was I thinking?”

“You should never.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh hey, was the answer six Jägerbombs?” Sebastian declares returning to the table with a bartender close behind to help carry the tray of glasses. “Because now it is. Forget the game.”

I know I grimace a little as the cocktail server sets the highball glasses in front of us. “Oh damn, seriously?”

“Are you…” Noble starts, lifting a shiny gaze to the waitress. “Legally allowed to serve us these? I'm like, ten years over the acceptable age limit for drinking Jägerbombs.”

“Ha! I dont buy it.” The blonde tilts her head with a grin, glancing to him as she distributes the shots. “You're the youngest guys in this bar anyway, so you get a pass.”

“Yeah, well--” Noble scoffs. “That's not saying much.”

“Here's a game I like--” She starts, straightening back up to rest a hand on her waist. “Show me some ID without showing me your ID.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“Oh I get it.” Noble nods, then eases back in his chair as if to consider it. “Let's see. How about this? The very first date I ever went on was in seventh grade,” he recounts. “--To the movies to see Mighty Ducks 2.”

My head falls back and I let out a loud laugh.

The rest of the table claps their amusement. “You sure it wasn’t Terminator 2?” Andrew teases.

“It wasn’t,” Noble laughs. “But I like sequels apparently.”

“That is hilarious,” the waitress approves. “I love it. And you're definitely too old to be ordering Jägerbombs.”

“Who was it?” I question.

“Who was who?”

“The date. Do you remember?”

“Ahh.” He smiles down at the table, his shoulders shifting a little with a bouncy chuckle before he answers. “Lisa Palermo.”

Everyone at the table hollers and entertained cackle. “Lisa Palermo!” Andrew proclaims as if he knows her, then he picks up his shot glass. “Let's cheers to Lisa Palermo.”

“What the fuck?” Noble laughs. “No, dude this night's about you. We have to toast you.”

“No,” Andrew dismisses it. “It's not like this is going to be our last shot of the night.”

“What happened to Lisa Palermo?” Sebastian cuts in. “We should call her.”

I sputter another hard laugh and slap my palm on the table. “Yeah dude, was Mighty Ducks 2 just the beginning?”

“Um, she had her friend dump me at the ice skating rink at Central Park but thanks for making me remember that pain, Jamie.”

The whole thing is cracking me up and I'm just thankful I don't have to keep a straight face around him, especially when he nudges me in the arm with his own.

“Alright. To Lisa!” Andrew calls out, raising his glass and prompting everyone else to do the same. “And Nick, her biggest regret.”

We all let go of the shot, dropping the Jägermeister into the highball glass of fizzy Red Bull. I down mine, swallowing hard before I clear away the lingering spicy sweetness in my throat. “Good god, that was a flashback.”

“Yeah dude,” Noble agrees, setting his glass down hard on the table. “I'm picking the shot next time.”

“Let's do one more round,” Sebastian suggests, pointing over his shoulder. “And then we'll roll out somewhere else.”

Pushing my chair back, I stand up. “Be right back.” Then I cross behind the table to make my way to the bathroom.

I can practically feel Noble's gaze as it trails me but I don't look back. Winding through the crowd between the pool tables, I turn down a dimly lit hallway and push into the men's room.

I'm only in there a couple minutes before the door opens while I'm at the sink.

“How about those Jägerbombs bro?” Noble teases.

“Bro--” I laugh. “Your frat brothers are pretty mellow. I expected to be plastered in a toga by now.”

“I can make that happen.”

Another guy approaches the sink beside me, washes up quickly and moves to pass through the door, leaving the two of us alone.

“I know you can.” I toss my paper towel in the trash and turn to him. “Were you in a fraternity in college? Please say yes.”

“Alpha Phi Delta at Stony Brook? Hell yeah man.” He grins. “Weren't you?”

I glance up at him, cutting a slow shake of my head. “Definitely not.”

“You should pledge.”

“Yeah?” I smile at him with a tilt of my head, unable to resist playing along. “That could be cool, I'm new on campus--”

“Ss--shit.” He hisses a tempted laugh. “Don't you dare.” Then he steps closer and his hands go to the sides of my face. “God and you question how much porn I've been watching.”

I exhale a soft laugh as he backs me up against the outside wall of the nearest stall. Tilting my head up, I accept the weight of him as he presses into me, the sly friction of his hip at the top of my thigh.

“Are there pictures?” I wonder, lifting my gaze to him, the corner of my lips curve. “Of you washing cars or playing ultimate frisbee or something?”

“You sick fucking jerk,” he whispers before his lips skate over mine. “Don't be a tease tonight.”

My heart pounds with this hot, jumpy thud considering the door just beyond Noble’s back. But I kiss him. And then I’m quick to leave his bottom lip with the slow pinch of my teeth. “Why not?”

He mumbles his answer into the side of my neck. “Because you look too damn hot, and you smell too fucking good right now.”

“Hmm.” I merely offer a scratchy hum and let my eyes close for a beat to appreciate the heat of his mouth on my skin.

Drawing in a deep inhale just at the collar of my shirt, he draws his face up to the edge of my jaw, “So I don’t think I can handle the tease.”

With a cleansing breath, I arch my neck back before I straighten up in front of him. Reaching down, I quickly flick the dark brown leather of his belt from its buckle. I see the way his lips part, his gaze flicking down, a hopeful jump of his brow just before I maneuver out from between him and the wall. “You can,” I assure him with a smirk as I head for the door. “You’ll like it.”

[itty-bittle-bakes]

An Ingenious Business Plan

In celebration of reaching 200+ followers (!!), I’ve written a fic based off of this post about SMH getting involved with their local troop. This is definitely going to be a multi-part, but I thought I’d publish the first bit just to whet your appetites. Thank you guys so much for your support and enthusiasm!

It’s not often that Shitty is glad to be wearing a shirt. Or pants, for that matter. Or clothes in general. He likes the feeling of being unrestricted by society’s insistence that he cover most of his body for no reason, all day long.

This is not one of those times.

He swung open the door after the third set of rapid, insistent knocks, ready to chew out the fucking lax bros if they were pulling another one of their stupid “ding-dong-ditch” games on Frat Row. What he did not expect to find was three little girls in Girl Scout uniforms, sashes displayed proudly across their chests, toting clipboards almost as big as their own torsos with them. As far as he can tell, there’s no adult accompanying them at all.

He’s torn between saying: “First things first, I’ll give you my entire tuition to get me some Samoas”, or, “Your organization is so amazing and superior to Boy Scouts, I hope you lil’ dudes know that. Like, pro-LGBT, and supporting young girls, it’s great!”, or even, “I want to buy your cookies, but I don’t want Bitty to think I don’t appreciate his baked goods, I’m sorry”, and finally, “Jesus, what are you doing on a street thats entirely frathouses filled with gross jocks and stoners, that is both a spectacular business plan and a deep-set flaw in whoever is supposed to be watching over and protecting you kids. Where’s your scout leader? I have some firm words for them.”

Eventually he just asked, “What?”

The girl in the middle, who looked a lot like those drawings of Hermione he’d seen lately, all dark skin and curly hair, almost defiantly held her clipboard out to him and asked in a voice far too businesslike for a ten year old, “Would you like to buy some cookies?”

Despite the fact that he most definitely wanted to put in an order for about 500 boxes, he was still searching for any sign of some adult accompanying the trio. Certainly, no parent in their right mind would send three little girls to sell cookies to a bunch of frat guys all by themselves. “Where’s your.. uh… leader?” He peered down the street for some sign of a parent, or even a mini-van. No such luck.

The girl with the clipboard scoffed. Actually scoffed. “Dana’s mom dropped us off four blocks away and drove off to get a manicure. Three hours ago. We’ve been selling cookies ever since.” She looked at her clipboard before turning it around to face him again. “We’ve sold a lot of cookies.”

Shitty raised his eyebrows as he took the clipboard, impressed. “Nine hundred boxes? In just three hours?”

One of the girls behind the apparent leader of the squad piped up. She had flaming red hair that would make even Dex jealous, with the freckles to match. “Half of it was from this street,” She explained, pointing down to the four houses that preceded the Haus on Frat Row.

“Ingenious.” Shitty murmured. “Alright, you’ve got my money. On one condition.”

“What?” All three asked simultaneously, their tones wary.

“You call an adult to go along with you. It’s not safe to walk around town all by yourselves” Seriously, he was gonna have to find this Dana’s mother and have a stern talking-to about leaving kids alone in the middle of Samwell. Even if they were Girl Scouts, and proudly sporting Karate badges.

The last girl, a tiny little thing with jet black hair in a pixie cut, who hadn’t yet contributed finally walked up to stand next to the one he’d decided to think of as Hermione. “Why do you think Dana’s mom dropped us off in the first place? All of our parents are busy or working.” She shrugged, like this wasn’t a big deal. “Besides, we’re almost done. We’re just going to do the rest of these houses and then go wait for Dana’s mom.”

The idea of these three kids just walking down Frat Row by themselves made Shitty genuinely nervous. What if some drunk guys harassed them (fucking lax bros, most likely)? What if they got kidnapped? What if they accidentally walked in on a drug deal? None of these situations were exactly ideal. He made a split second decision. “Hold on,” He told the girls, and stuck his head back in the house. “Zimms!” He hollered at the top of his lungs, knowing full well Jack could hear him. “We’re going on an adventure!”

—

In total, the girls sold about 2,000 boxes to the rest of the frats, with the help of Jack and Shitty (Who was still figuring out what they should call him). Afterward, Shitty had walked them back to the spot where the mom had dropped them off originally, and waited for her with the girls. Amy, the one who’d first spoken to him, didn’t look too surprised when the sun started to set, and Dana’s mom still hadn’t arrived. “She probably forgot about us. She had to pick up Dana’s group too.”

Shitty frowned. “Seriously? That’s it. I’m walking you guys back to your meeting spot. Where are your parent supposed to pick you up?”

They all answered at the same time. “Samwell Middle School.”

Shitty sighed in relief, glad they hadn’t said Town Hall, or some place out on the edge of town, miles away from the university. “That's not too far a walk. Why don’t one of you call your parents and tell them you’re coming while we start heading over?” He handed his phone to Amy, who immediately started dialing.

Chloe, the girl with the pixie cut, hesitated. “What if Dana’s mom does come for us?”

Shitty looked down the road. It seemed completely devoid of any life, human or car, save for the four of them. “If Dana’s mom hasn’t come by now, she doesn’t deserve to be a troop leader. Let’s go, before it gets too dark out.” He reached out to help Aggie, the redhead, up and they all started started walking towards the school. Amy kept chatting with her mom, telling them how the nice hockey players had helped them sell cookies, and how one of them was walking them back to school.

“Hey,” Amy tugged on his sleeve, phone still pressed to her ear. “What’s your name?”

Shitty blinked in surprise. “I haven’t told you guys my name?”

All three shook their heads.

“Oh, wow, sorry you guys.” He said, stalling, trying to think. They couldn’t call him Shitty, that would just be weird. “I’m number forty-two on the hockey team, so you can call me that. Or…” He paused, remembering what Mrs. Bittle had called him before they came to a happy medium with Mr. Crappy. “I guess Mr. Knight works too.”

Amy nodded approvingly, and then said into the phone, “His name is Mr. Knight. He’s number forty-two on the hockey team.”

Half an hour later, they were only a quarter mile away when Chloe started to lag behind, her feet dragging as they kept walking. Shitty slowed down, leaning down to look at her. “Hey, what’s the matter, scout?”

She sniffled, and he quickly realized she was barely holding it together. “I’m tired, and I’m hungry, and I miss my mom.” She whimpered, and Shitty once again felt overcome by anger at this mystery mom who had left these three completely on their own. Without thinking, he wrapped her in a quick, tight hug.

“We’re almost there, Chloe.” He paused. “How about I give you a piggyback? That way you don’t have to keep walking.”

Chloe looked at him like she didn’t totally believe him. “You mean it?”

He grinned encouragingly at her. “Totally. It’ll be good for my hockey muscles.” Not a lie- he’d missed a team workout at the gym for this.

“Okay.” She agreed quietly, and he leaned down for her to jump on, hefting up her knees once she’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Is everyone else hanging in there?” He checked with Amy and Aggie, who both nodded, though they also looked pretty tired. He should have brought Jack along. The bro could probably carry all three girls and not break a sweat. “We’re almost there, I promise. Your parents are going to be so proud of you for all the hard work you did today. You were real troopers.”

Sure enough, as soon as they made it to Samwell Middle School, the girls were enveloped in hugs from their parents, who were clearly relieved they hadn’t been kidnapped by this mysterious Mr. Knight. He handed Chloe off to her mother, extending a hand for her to shake, introducing himself to the parents.

“So, Mr. Knight,” Amy’s mother started, looking at him skeptically. “Amy tells me you helped them sell cookies today. And you’ve walked them here.”

Shitty nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I did. Apparently, a girl named Dana has a mother who dropped them off on Dowe Street at one, but she wasn’t walking with them while they were selling cookies. I hope I’m not being intrusive by accompanying them.”

Amy’s mother exchanged glances with the other parents. “You’re most certainly not. I think we’ll be having a word with Susan in the next few days. Did she really leave you three on your own?” She asked the girls, shock coloring her tone. They all nodded.

“We were okay.” Aggie piped up, holding up her clipboard. “Mr. Knight helped us sell 2,000 boxes.”

“I’m sure yo- 2,000?” Aggie’s father looked at Shitty with something bordering awe.

Shitty shrugged. “College students and girl scout cookies. Its a brilliant business plan.”

“Huh.” Aggie’s father huffed thoughtfully. “Who’d’ve thunk.” He reached for Aggie’s hand and started walking her toward the car. She turned and waved at Shitty. “Thanks, Mr. Knight!”

He waved back, smiling. “Bye, Aggie! Don’t forget to do that math you were telling me about!” The other parents laughed as Aggie made a groaning noise.

“You know,” Amy’s mother started, looking at Shitty curiously, “If you ever wanted to help chaperone their cookie sale trips, I’m sure your help would be much appreciated.”

Shitty raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I don’t know…” He thought about how many hours he’d have to set aside. He was already drowning in work for his WGSS 435 class, not to mention hockey practice, and their games. Then, he caught the pleading look on Chloe’s face, and saw Amy smiling up at him hopefully. “Oh, why not.” He found himself saying. “I bet I could get the whole team in on it.”

—

“Hey, Bits?” Shitty stuck his head in the kitchen after Amy’s mother had kindly dropped him off at the house, thankfully not asking him why he lived in what was a glorified, giant shack. “How many recipes do you have for Girl Scout cookies? Also, how the fuck do I become a troop leader?”

[tune-collective]

Maddie Ross is the Best DIY Rock Star You've Never Heard Of

Maddie Ross is the Best DIY Rock Star You've Never Heard Of

The L.A. up-and-comer explains why it’s important to give young queer girls a role model.

Maddie Ross has music figured out. 

The 24-year old’s most recent single is one of the best rock songs released this year, never mind that approximately no one has heard it yet. The bubblegum bulldozer “You’re Still My Sugar” is the product of a D.I.Y. master plan including her own label, a production partner, and a fresh USC diploma with “Popular Music Program” on it.

And — because who actually does what they went to school for? — the L.A. resident is part SAT tutor, part social worker, and co-host of the Love Is a Softball Field podcast. A couple years back, she came out as queer by telling friends and family about her current partner/then-college girlfriend, who also happens to be the other half of that label-production duo. For Ross, it’s all coming together — but before we get ahead of ourselves, just listen to “You’re Still My Sugar.” 

“It’s like my first love song ever,” Ross tells us. “[The lyric] ‘everybody’s braindead’ is the overwhelming sentiment there… Making music, a lot of people I meet are so contrived, really trying to sound like something. I feel so good about my relationship — how authentic my girlfriend is and how authentic the music we make is.”

Madison Scheckel, who goes by “Wolfy” in her creative endeavors, is Ross’ producer, publicist, music director, live guitarist, and co-leader of their imprint, Sentimental Records. That’s not to say that working alongside your romantic partner is easy. “We’e both very emotional people,” Ross admits. “We’ll definitely fight or bicker and we’ll have to come back to stuff… Making music is really vulnerable. You’re being so honest and putting yourself out there and then, in terms of releasing music and promoting it, you’re putting a huge part of yourself out there.”

Ross and Wolfy became friends and collaborators early on in their time at USC and began dating in their senior year. They were both enrolled in the school’s popular music program; theirs was just the second year the rigorous, discipline-hopping curriculum was offered. Alongside music industry classes, students were placed in bands, essentially tasked with playing their way through music history, new genres looming each semester. ”We were in theory class with all these jazz majors, which was some of the hardest stuff I’ve ever done in my life,” she remembers.  

Naturally, bands formed. Most notably, Maddie and Wolfy were classmates of Katie Gavin and Josette Maskin, now two-thirds of the sensational alt-pop band MUNA, who’ve already released one of this year’s outstanding albums on RCA Records. “Maddie was in a group of girls I’d describe as my secret role models,” Gavin says. “They were a year above me, two years above Josette. I don’t think Maddie knows this, but the first time I saw her for an extended period of time was on Halloween. Her, Madison and their friend Caitlin [Notey, of the indie band Huxlee] were dressed up in legitimately scary costumes, which was out of the ordinary for girls at USC. They were walking down frat row and actually scaring frat guys.” It was solid first impression and one that Ross built on after graduating. “I can’t believe the way her artistic voice has developed the past few years,” Gavin says. “And that’s because of her own work and effort. You don’t go into the program guaranteed to come out an authentic artist.”

But no, not everyone in the program was as cool these ladies. “I feel like a lot of the people in my community who I know just want to be scooped up by a manager or a label,” says Ross. “That’s one of the things that differentiates me from a lot of the kids in my class… They think someone bigger needs to do something for them.” While not decidedly opposed to playing ball with the industry — she interned with Warner Bros. Records during her junior year — Ross does know exactly what she’s not looking for.

“I was talking to this one guy who was a manager,” she remembers. “At first he seemed really cool and had worked with people I liked, but then he was like, ‘I think we just really have to play up your sex appeal — you’re a cute girl, blah blah blah.’ I was so taken aback. That was like last year. I realized I don’t have to work with anyone ever again who makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Alongside Wolfy, Ross devised a transparent payment model for Sentimental Records: earnings split into quarters amongst the artist, songwriter, producer and label. So far, though, they’ve only released their own music, covering all four bases themselves. “It’s really empowering to do something yourself — start a band, release your own artwork.,” Ross says. “With ‘Sugar,’ I had this song written and I just wanted to release it. There are no rules; I can just release a single. No one’s telling me what to do.”

“Sugar” followes a pair of Maddie Ross EPs — 2016’s Making Out Is Easy and Television Is My Friend, released two years prior. While the songwriting’s always been there, it’s Ross’ aesthetic that’s recently blossomed. Television — with a close-up, Revlon ad-esque Maddie on its cover — features competent, politely polished pop-rock that’s tough to place in a specific setting; Making Out and the “Sugar” single pivoted towards DIY cartoons of skulls and bubblegum, suggesting the sugary indie-punk sounds of Charly Bliss and Colleen Green.

“[Making Out Is Easy] feels like my actual debut EP,” she says. “I feel like a real artist now rather than a kid just trying to make an EP.” Adds Maskin — “It’s a lot more punk to me now in a way that I really love.” Even better, the hooks run circles around 95% of like-minded Bandcamp bands. 

Ross has new demos and hopes to release an “upbeat, fun summer EP” before the weather gets too warm. Ideally, she’d like to release an album and go on a full-fledged U.S. tour, but complications exist. Wolfy doesn’t relish the live show as much as her and then there’s the matter of Ross’ job jobs — SAT prep for underprivileged students and research/consulting for her parents’ firm, which works to place women and minorities in executive roles. But more than covering rent money, these endeavors fill an important role. 

“I’ve grown into myself a lot over the last few years,” she says. “It’s important for young people to see someone — like the girls in MUNA — cool girls or cool people self-identifying. We don’t all fit the mold of what we think about those stereotypes. If I’d had more queer role models, it might’ve made coming out a bit easier.”

This article originally appeared on Billboard.

http://tunecollective.com/2017/04/10/maddie-ross-best-diy-rock-star-youve-never-heard/