Too Many Creeps

from the EP Too Many Creeps, 99 Records, 1980




Interesting, when you think about how many musical genres and subcultures explicitly came about as a result of, or reaction to, some other genre that was loosing its spark or declining in favor with those whose opinions matter. The whole “post-punk” umbrella includes a seemingly infinite amount of random influences from any style which took the musicians fancy; not exceedingly surprising when you consider how simple and narrow of a focus punk music held. This track, by New York City’s own Bush Tetras, serves as a principal example of one particular sector of the post-punk scene--- minimal, angular, danceable. You quickly get the impression that some of the same punk rockers who would hate on disco music in public, were actually going home at night (or maybe even sneaking off to Mancuso’s loft), and jamming out to those glittery beats. When Cynthia Sley rants that, “I just don’t wanna go, out on the streets, no more…because these people they gimmie, they gimmie the creeps, anymore…” believe that she isn’t drafting a fantasy for you here; this was NYC in 1980, not the picture-perfect Disneyworld that New York has become. If your memories of the city fall around this date, the facelift NYC has undergone is, frankly, startling. Ms. Sley’s manner and affect slide somewhere in between the goddesses Chrissie Hynde & Patti Smith; she manages to deliver spoken prose as song, with sultry irony. Certainly, all of us can currently relate to her admonishment, “I just can’t pay the price, of shopping around, no more…because there’s just nothing, that’s worth the cost, it’s the worst…” In a way post-punk, punk rock itself, & its progeny, is basically recession-based music: no jobs, no homes, rant, rave, jump up and down. If wasn’t for women like those in Bush Tetras, Linder (from Ludus), ESG, Janine Rainforth (Maximum Joy), Kim Gordon, Lara Logic & others, we wouldn’t have bands like New Young Pony Club, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or even Franz Ferdinand. Neither glossy enough to be new wave (like their musical cousins the Talking Heads), nor ugly enough to be no wave (ala DNA, early Sonic Youth), the Bush Tetras reside in relative obscurity, waiting for those willing to dig a little.