It’s Saturday night and Creepoid guitarist PeteJoe Urban IV wants his bandmate Anna Troxell to bring a bigger purse to their show in Baltimore. She’s been roped into trafficking pint glasses from bars the band stops at on the road.
“I’m not bringing a bigger purse than this one,” Troxell says. “I always have to be the one carrying glasses around. I’m not doing it this time.”
Urban looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and gives a look that says, “Well, I tried.”
Creepoid is on a lineup with Amanda X, Crimson Wave and Dinged Up at The Gold Bar. It’s a little less than a two hour ride from their West Philly home. Before hitting the road, drummer Pat Troxell is getting text messages from their friend, Noel Conrad, a novelty toy maker, photographer and owner of Novelty Haus, in Baltimore. Conrad is inviting the band to his studio when they get to Baltimore for an impromptu photoshoot. The band agrees without any hesitation. They later find out that Conrad also wants to bring them in on a progressive packaging idea, pairing their music with his toys.
But there’s still plenty to do here before leaving: the van needs to be packed. That’s Urban’s job. He does it efficiently and clearly has a routine of how and where everything get placed in the back of their Ford Windstar. He knows exactly what goes in first, grabbing Pat Troxell’s bass drum. Everything fits in perfectly without any slack to spare or extra space,.
“I often consider trying different ways to load the van,” he says. “But I always end up going back to the same way every time. You just figure out a way that works best.”
Creepoid has their upcoming album on their mind when they start driving, asking each other if they’d heard anything from No Idea Records, the label releasing the record, about how many preorders they’ve had.
“I don’t know, but people keeping hitting me up to set copies aside,” Anna Toxell says. “If you want a pink one, go online and preorder one. If you want a white one, go online and order one. Don’t ask me to set one aside, I know what that means.”
There’s a grumble and Pat Troxell, Anna’s husband, says he’s been getting the same thing from other people. Specific names of their friends are dropped and it sounds like the band will try to take care of them. But no one is getting a hand-out. The self-titled new record will be pressed to yellow, pink and white vinyl, matching the color scheme of the pictures on the back of the record sleeve. But the colored records are limited to only two-hundred copies each.
Guitarist and singer Sean Miller, is driving the van with Urban sitting shotgun. They’re asking Pat Troxell about highway changes as we’re getting out of the city. He tells them what direction to take without looking up from his cell phone for more than a second, knowing the route like a father that’s taken his family to the same vacation spot every summer for years. It may have something to do with the fact that Pat Troxell has been going on tours with bands since he was fourteen years old. Continue reading →