So if you pull a crucial gear out of a finely
tuned mechanical watch, the ticking just stops.
Right. Yeah. The whole thing seizes up. Exactly.
The entire system is built on this, like precision
and codependence. So removing one piece completely
breaks the chain of kinetic energy. Mechanically
speaking, it just... it cannot function. It's
impossible. But imagine, just imagine you yank
that gear out and the watch somehow, I don't
know, recalibrated itself in midair and just
kept perfect time. That would be a magic trick.
Right. But today we are actually looking at the
musical equivalent of that impossible machine.
Welcome to today's deep dive, everyone. Glad
to be here for this one. It's a fascinating story.
It really is. So we're diving into the Wikipedia
article for the Canadian band The Creep Show.
And our mission today is to dissect the anatomy
of, well, extreme organizational resilience.
Yeah, because their story is fundamentally about
navigating unpredictable transitions. Totally.
We want to figure out how a niche project survives
these massive structural shocks, like the sudden
whiplash of viral internet fame and just decades
in a notoriously unforgiving industry without
losing its identity. And for you listening, whether
you are, you know, prepping for a meeting, managing
a startup, running a creative team, or just trying
to keep any long -term project afloat. The mechanics
of how this band survived it really provides
a master class in crisis management. Yeah. They
didn't just endure the disruption. They built
a system that was designed to absorb it. Exactly.
OK, let's unpack this. Because to understand
that system, we have to look at the architecture
of their foundation. Where they started. Right.
So they formed in Burlington, Ontario back in
2005. And they leaned really heavily into this.
um, psychobilly and punk rock space with a very
distinct lyrical focus on horror films. Which
is pretty noosh. It is. But what stands out in
Source Material isn't just the aesthetic, it's
the personnel. You have Sean Sickboy -McNab on
upright bass and backup vocals. Great nickname,
by the way. I know, right? And then Patti, The
Reverend, McGinty on keys, and Matt, Palme, G
on drums. And the thing is, these weren't like...
kids buying their first instruments. No, not
at all. They were already heavily entrenched
in the local scene. Yeah, they were playing in
established garage bands like Outspan, Jersey,
Two -Face, Rehab for Quitters, all these local
staples. And what's fascinating here is that
this is the critical variable. When we talk about
local music scenes, we often think of them as
just places to play shows. Right, like a dive
bar where you play on a Tuesday night. Exactly.
But in reality, they are highly efficient incubators
and talent networks. By pooling their prior experience,
the founders of the creep show completely bypassed
the volatile startup phase of a band. Oh yeah,
the Frankenstein's monster approach, like stitching
together the best parts of past projects into
this new thrilling thing. That's a great way
to put it, because they didn't have to learn
how to route a tour or, you know, how to negotiate
with promoters or command a hostile room. They
already had the operational blueprints. So they
weren't starting from scratch. Not even close.
I mean they probably had the phone numbers of
every sound guy and booking agent in southern
Ontario already in their phones. Which explains
how a band with such a niche focus actually gets
off the ground so fast they came out of the gate
as essentially a turnkey operation. Right and
that structural integrity showed up immediately
in their live show. Yeah the sources describe
their shows as having incredibly fast -paced
songs, massive sing -alongs, and just really
energetic backup vocals. Yeah. And the industry
response was unusually fast, like crazy fast.
It really was. In 2005, the exact same year they
formed In Farm, Adam Sewell at Stereo Dynamite
heard their demo and signed them. Just like that.
Yeah. He put their track shake on the Zombie
Night in Canada volume two compilation. Then
by May 2006, they released their debut album,
Sell Your Soul, and they secured an exclusive
distribution deal with EMI Music Canada. Which
is huge for an independent punk band. And it
gets bigger. By 2009, they achieved this major
milestone. They became the first Canadian band
ever signed to the California -based Hellcat
Records. Yeah, for the U .S. re -release of their
second album, Run For Your Life. But wait, I
want to push back on this a little bit. Okay,
go for it. How does a highly niche Burlington
band singing about horror movies land on a massive
California label like Hellcat? I mean, is it
just the gimmick or is it the hustle? Because
Hellcat signing a Canadian band was a massive
anomaly back then. Oh, it was a structural anomaly
for sure. Cross -border logistics, visa costs,
tour support for international acts, those are
usually prohibitive for independent labels. Right,
unless it's a guaranteed return on investment.
Exactly. The aesthetic might get the audience's
attention, sure, but the underlying economics
are what get the contract signed. So it was the
hustle. 100%. Hellcat invested in them because
the creep show had built this self -sustaining
economic engine through just relentless touring.
Yeah, the sources say they played the Warped
Tour in Montreal in 2008. They toured North America
and Europe heavily in early 2009. They even played
multiple gigs in Russia later that year. Which
is not an easy tour routing. No. And then eventually
they hit the main stages at Australia's Soundwave
Festival in 2010. So from a label's perspective,
this completely de -risks the investment. The
band isn't asking the label to build their audience
from scratch. They're basically just asking the
label to distribute the product to an audience
they're already actively conquering on the road.
That makes total sense. But, I mean, the physical
toll of that kind of blue -collar touring model
has to be immense. Oh, it's exhausting. There's
this really telling quote I found in the source
material from Sarah Blackwood who, well, She
would become their lead singer later. We'll get
to that. But she did an interview with Exclaim
magazine. Yeah, I remember this quote. She described
their downtime. And she said, quote, after about
two weeks, we all get that itch. And after three
weeks, our pockets are empty. And we're like,
OK, we need to go back on tour. I am going crazy.
It perfectly encapsulates the dual pressures
of independent music, doesn't it? It really does.
Financial necessity and psychological momentum.
Exactly. You are simultaneously driven by empty
pockets and the sheer cabin fever of just being
off the road. But the paradox of that grueling
schedule is that it relies on absolute internal
stability. Right. Like you cannot book a 30 date
European club tour unless you are absolutely
certain your entire roster is actually going
to show up to the airport. Right. Which brings
us to their first major structural shock. Here's
where it gets really interesting. because their
original lead singer and guitarist, Jen Hellcat
-Blackwood, gets pregnant and decides to leave
the band. Which is completely understandable,
but for a touring band, that's a crisis. Yeah.
She makes her final video appearance in a track
called The Garden, and she eventually goes on
to form Hellcat and the Prowl. And generally
speaking, losing a front person is traditionally
a fatal blow for a band. Oh, absolutely. The
lead singer is the focal point of the parasocial
relationship between the band and the audience.
Fans form these deep identity level bonds with
the voice and the persona. So when you replace
that person, the audience often feels betrayed.
They see it as like a corporate imitation of
the original band. Exactly. But they managed
to completely bypass that rejection. It's like
a monarchy keeping the crown and the family.
They brought in Jen's younger sister, Saris in
Blackwood. Initially, it was just temporary to
fulfill their touring obligations, but she soon
took over the vocal and guitar duties permanently.
She ended up leading them through years of heavy
touring and recorded their third album, They
All Fall Down, in 2010. And the mechanism of
that transition is just brilliant because the
familial connection provided an emotional bridge
for the fans. It retained this vital sense of
authenticity. It wasn't some hostile takeover
or a random audition process. Exactly. It wasn't
pulling in a stranger. It was keeping the project
within the original bloodline. The fans accepted
Sarah because her presence actually honored the
band's origins rather than overriding them. It
worked flawlessly. It kept the machine running
at top speed. But then... they encountered an
entirely different kind of disruption, an external
lightning bolt. The viral moment. Yes. In January
2012, Sarah Blackwood goes a guest vocal spot
with Walk Off the Earth, which is another Burlington
band. They record a cover of Godi's Somebody
That I Used to Know. You know, the famous video
with five people all playing a single guitar.
Oh, everyone remembers that video. The impact
of that video cannot be overstated. It was a
true algorithmic lightning bolt in the 2012 YouTube
landscape. It hit one hundred and twenty seven
million views in just four months, which in 2012
was unfathomable. Insane numbers. They received
massive public praise from Gotye himself and
Kimbra, the original tracks co -singer. And then
by February 2012, Crazed Hits reported that Walk
Off the Earth had signed a major recording contract
with Columbia Records. So suddenly you have this
massive collision between two totally different
economic realities. Yes, Walk Off the Earth is
suddenly a global phenomenon with major label
backing, demanding an immediate, aggressive touring
and promotional schedule. And this raises an
important question. Because you have the traditional
grassroots van touring economy at The Creep Show
colliding with this explosive, highly capitalized
world of viral pop. music. Right. And The Creep
Show had already booked a major tour of Europe
and North America for the late summer and autumn
of 2012. Including dates in the UK. Yes. So it
seems obvious that someone couldn't do both.
But I have to wonder, for you listening who might
face something similar, why couldn't they just
put The Creep Show on a brief hiatus? Like why
couldn't they pause the grassroots tour while
Sarah rode the viral wave and then return to
it later? because in the independent touring
ecosystem, pausing is often indistinguishable
from dying. Wow! Really? Yeah, I mean, promoters
have already booked venues. They've printed flyers.
They've sold advance tickets. If a band cancels
a European tour, they burn relationships with
booking agents that literally took years of sweat
equity to build. Makes sense. The bridges just
get burned. Exactly. Furthermore, the rest of
the band relies on that touring income to pay
their rent. You can't ask a working class band
to just sit idle for a year while their singer
pursues a major label pop project. The momentum
has to be maintained or the whole engine just
seizes up. So the inevitable happens. On July
16, 2012, Sarah uploads a farewell video to her
YouTube page. She officially announces she is
leaving The Creep Show to join Walk Off the Earth
permanently, gearing up for their autumn tour
and the release of their REVOEP. Consider the
operational nightmare this presents. Oh, it's
terrifying. It is mid -July. The Creep Show has
a European and North American tour starting in
a matter of weeks. The singer, who remember was
already the replacement for the original singer,
has just defected to a massive viral pop act.
Which usually creates a catastrophic vacuum of
information, right? Always. Fans start speculating,
rumors spread that the band is breaking up, and
nervous promoters start pulling the plug on shows
just to minimize their own financial risk. So
how does a band survive that specific window
of panic? When the fans are loyal to the voice
and the voice is suddenly gone, how do you prevent
the entire brand from collapsing before the tour
even starts? You execute what is essentially
a controlled burn. In crisis management, you
have to deliberately consume the fuel, you know,
the fan speculation and panic before it can turn
into a wildfire. You do not wait a week to gather
your thoughts. You communicate instantly, and
you project absolute unshakable confidence. So
what does this all mean in practice? It means
absolute PR brilliance. Because that is exactly
what they did. On the exact same day Sarah uploaded
her video, July 16, 2012, The Creep Show released
a comprehensive statement on their Facebook page.
The timing is crucial there. Same day. Exactly.
Ripping the Band -Aid off. They addressed the
reality immediately, acknowledging that Sarah's
involvement with Walk Off the Earth made it impossible
for her to commit full time to the creep show.
They were super professional, stating she would
be sorely missed and wishing her the best. Which
neutralizes any rumors of bad blood or internal
drama right away. Right. But the crucial move
was what they did next. They left absolutely
no vacuum for fan speculation because they announced
her successor in the very next paragraph. Mmm,
right there. Yeah. They stated the show must
go on, and they introduced Kenda Legaspi, also
known as Kenda Twisted, or Obi -Wan Kendabi.
Another fantastic nickname. They really are great
at those. But they didn't just drop a name, you
know. They actively established her credibility.
They pointed out that she was an accomplished
singer and a prolific tattoo artist deeply embedded
in the Hamilton and Toronto music scenes. Scene
credibility. That's the key. Yeah, they confidently
declare they were already writing new songs and
sharpening the live sh**. And by doing this,
they left zero oxygen for doubt. They controlled
the narrative completely, they acknowledged the
loss, honored the departing member, and instantly
provided proof of life for the future. Signaling
to the promoters that the tour was safe. Exactly.
And signaling to the fans that the band's identity
was intact. Kenda wasn't some random session
musician they hired off the Internet. She was
a known entity. She had seen credibility, which
is the exact same currency the founders used
to build the band back in 2005. Full circle.
There is a specific line at the bottom of that
July 16th statement that I just find fascinating.
They added, quote, If you have any negative comments,
we would appreciate you keeping them to yourself.
That is a master class in boundary setting. It's
so bold. It is, but it communicates to the fanbase
that the remaining members are completely unified
in this decision. It preemptively shuts down
those toxic internet pylons that typically accompany
lineup changes. It basically tells the audience
that the band's survival is not up for public
debate. I love that. But I still struggle to
comprehend the sheer logistics of pulling this
off. The timeline is wild. It's insane. Sarah
announces her departure on July 16th. The sorts
of show Kenda playing her first live shows with
the band in Hamilton on Friday, July 27, and
then in Toronto the very next day. Yeah. That
is an 11 day turnaround. 11 days. And that highlights
the invisible mechanical reality of being a professional
touring musician. To transition a lead vocalist
in 11 days requires immense technical discipline.
I can't even imagine the rehearsals. Right. You
were talking about someone learning a catalog
of what 15 to 20 highly specific fast paced songs
and developing the vocal stamina to perform them
back to back. Plus integrating into the existing
stage chemistry of a band that has been touring
relentlessly for seven years. And then immediately
after those two local shows. They fly to Germany
for four dates, and then they hit the UK in August.
Fulfilling every single obligation they had on
the books, they didn't drop a single tour date.
Because they understood that their leverage in
the industry was their reliability. If they had
flinched, the promoters would have panicked.
Right. But by showing up in Germany with a fully
functional high energy set just weeks after losing
their singer to a Columbia Records pop back,
they cemented their reputation as an unstoppable
force. And they didn't just survive. They thrived.
The momentum only accelerated from there. By
January 2013, they were demoing a new album in
Toronto. That's fast. Super fast. In July, they
released the single Sinners and Saints on limited
edition brown vinyl. And then in October 2013
through Stomp Records, they dropped their fourth
studio album on white vinyl. And the title they
chose for that record feels incredibly pointed.
What was it? Life After Death. Oh, that is perfect.
It's the perfect encapsulation of their entire
operational ethos. They took what should have
been a fatal blow and commodified it into their
ongoing narrative. They really did. And they
sustained that energy for years. They hit their
10th anniversary. They headlined the arena at
the Rebellion Festival in August 2015. And they
supported massive punk acts like NOFX and Dropkick
Murphys. Didn't they play a huge New Year's Eve
show right after the transition, too? Yeah. They
spent New Year's Eve 2012 playing with NOFX in
Montreal right on the heels of the Kenda transition.
And then they released their next album, Death
at My Door, in 2017. They even saw their track
Blood, Blood, Blood featured in the closing credits
of a Borderlands 3DLC expansion. Oh. Yeah. They
completely outran the shadow of that viral walk
off the earth moment. And I think the broader
takeaway here, especially for you listening,
is about the difference between a project built
on an individual and a project built on a system.
Yeah, that's a crucial distinction. The Creep
Show survived because their core identity, their
work ethic, their ties to the local scene, their
commitment to the psychobilly aesthetic, all
of that was stronger than any single component
part. When you lay the whole timeline out. It
is just staggering. It really is. Like a group
of scene veterans in Burlington combine an upright
base and a horror motif. They build a touring
engine powerful enough to land a Hellcat Records
contract. They survive the departure of their
original lead singer by bringing in her sister.
Right. And then when that sister gets pulled
into the stratosphere of viral pop fame, they
execute an 11 day transition to a new vocalist
without canceling a single European tour date.
It's unbelievable. And it forces us to ask a
really compelling question about the nature of
creative projects. What's that? Well, there is
this ancient philosophical thought experiment
called the Ship of Theseus. OK, yeah, I've heard
of this. The premise is that if you have a wooden
ship and over time you replace every single rotting
plank until none of the original wood remains,
Is it still the same ship? Oh, wow. Applied to
a band with this much turnover, that is a wild
concept to untangle. Exactly. If a band changes
its label, completely replaces its front person
twice, and cycles through various rhythm section
players over a couple of decades, is it still
the same band? That's the big question. Or does
a project like The Creepshow eventually transcend
its personnel? Does it become a shared immortal
energy, like a specific set of ideals or aesthetics
that exists entirely separate from the specific
individuals who first brought it to life in that
Burlington garage? I love that. That is the exact
kind of puzzle that stays with you. Because it
suggests that if you build the architecture of
your project correctly, and you manage the transitions
with enough transparency and confidence, the
machine never really relies on one specific gear.
No, it doesn't. It just relies on the collective
will to keep ticking. Thank you so much for joining
us on this deep dive. We'll see you next time.