Press and Interviews

Marc Riley and the Creepers are not just yer typical Northern indie band, there's something sinister, something that bites behind their music argues Roger Morton.

The worrying thing about creepy crawlies isn't so much the way they look. It's the fact that they BITE. Marc Riley and the Creepers don't look too frightening ... But they sure as hell bite.

At a quck glance, the Creepers typify a 'Northen indie band'. All the credentials are there. A front man who used to be in the Fall. Scratchy, edgy, needling songs, with a twisted, sarky humour. A small but committed audience, John Peel sessions, Manchester addresses (almost), and a touch of the 'couldn't give a damn' attitude.

But then you pick up their recent LP 'Miserable Sinners', and what do you find? Something sinister, something hilarious ... something that bites. The sting in the end of riley's tale comes from the combining of a grotesque (Northern?) humour with the band's lumpy, crunchy, blistered guitar-pop. To be plain, Riley deserves more attention than he gets, and probably more than he wants.

In a corner, away from the damp white flesh and home-made haircuts of a grim pub venue, the affable Marc 'people keep saying I look like Pete Townshend' Riley spins a web of though over indies, butchers, sinners, spiders and 'Oink'.

Marc: "Anybody who's in a 'typical Northern indie band' at the moment, doesn't want to be. They'd all rather be selling a lot of records which is what it comes down to.

"When people like Beefheart or the Residents started off, they weren't labelled as being in some shitty little scene which they'd be lucky to get out of. They were just seen as groups starting off." But on the other hand ...

"You know it's always a privilige to be
Without a care in the market place
With no units to surpass or pay for
Not being the ace face."
("Hones Lies" from "Miserable Sinners")

Marc: "the good thing about the Creepers is that it can roll along at its own pace. Maybe the one problem is lack of ambition, but I don't want to force myself on people. I'm really not into floating around the clubs and stuff.

"I actually don't give a fuck at the end of the day. 'Cause I really do it just to please myself."

Having joined the Fall straight from school and spent nearly five years doing the rounds with mark Smith and co, riley is quite content to let the Creepers find their own level. Both in his attitude to the band and in his lyrics, the man demonstrates a down to earth, Northern sense of absurdity.

"you know I try to be original / have my own sound
I don't run my VU records? Into the ground
I know that I'm no Captain Beefheart/ or Groucho Marx ...
But I, yes I, yes I, I'm sound as a pound"
("Sound as a pound" from "Miserable Sinners")

Only Marc Riley could rhyme 'Dallas' with 'toothbrush phallus'. ("Honest Lies")

Marc: "A lot of it is deadpan. I think they're more inclined to take the mickey in the north. In London, they're more into being serious young men.

"I mean, I've got the reputation of being slightly "off the wall". Then you've got the membranes who are considered to be cartoon characters and Bogshed who do song like 'The Amazing Roy North Penis Band', and that does seem to be coming from the North. There's a lot more people in the South who want to 'make a living' out of it".

As a full-time cartoonist on the grown up kiddy comic, 'Oink', Marc has more than one outlet for his wit.

Marc: "I just went to school with one of the editors of 'Oink'. He showed me how to do cartoons, and I enjoyed it.

"It's a bit like with the songs. I basically take something to an extreme to make it funny. I can't really see the point in writing about someone who lives in my village without giving any wit to it. 'Cause who wants to know what one of my butchers is up to?"

But there's a lot more to the Creepers than the odd characters and cartoon songs like 'Another song about motorbikes'. At times the humour gets pretty black.

Marc: "I don't particularly like the characters of the people in my songs. It's like in a song called 'Gross' from the 'Gross Out' LP. It was about this character who lives near me.

"A lot of people thought it was written from my point of view, about abusing women. You know, a song about sexual triumphs, which it wasn't. it was a parody of this dickhead. So I'm misunderstood. It's a shame!"

Even the funeral artwork and piss-take title of the last album was taken rather too seriously.

Marc: "That was a bit perverse. 'Miserable Sinners' was just a line out of a filthy song by Derek and Clive. It goes 'We are miserable sinners ... filthy fuckers'.

"And people are reviewing it saying, 'the aptly titled 'Miserable Sinners', as if we're in despair, but it's out of a really hilarious Derek and Clive song. That's the first time I've told anyone that!

"You know, it's as if I'd be at home with a guitar, head in hands, wracked with guilt and despair ... Really, we're all sat round with a bottle of Pils, listening to Derek and Clive".

Riley's wart on pop is more than just Fall fall-out (he's very pleased with the new Brix-look band). It's a necessary addition to a line of eccentric (dis)figures which runs from Dylan to Beefheart to Iggy to Mark Smith to the Butthole Surfers (taking in Steeleye Span on the way).

If you're looking for the sort of pop creatures tha can take Eno's 'Baby's on fire' and desecrate it brilliantly with shearing guitars or batter an old Bob Dylan song into a splendidly twisted new shape, then the Creepers are just the pop pets you're after. Something amusing, but a little bit dangerous ... A little bit venomous. Something like Marc Riley's animal collection.

Marc: "My tarantula's fine ... She's just about to shed here skin. I've got two rats as well - Barry and Ian - and a black Asian scorpion called bob.

"I tend to get the tarantula out when I've had a few drinks, just in case it bites me. Then I won't drop her". Isn't it a bit dangerous?

"Marc: "It's not as bad as it seems. If it bites you, it's just like a bee sting".

Whereas if the Creepers bite you, you're bitten to death. But you'll die laughing.

(Record Mirror, 14th March 1987, p6)