by Brett Sheats, Prophet and Seer to the Stars
Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.
Those of us in touch with our metaphysical side often gaze upon the face of the unseen world that shadows our existence. It is a confusing, paradoxical place full of curious quips and contradictions queer. Often travelers to this dark realm are forced to take journeys through the unworldly landscape and emerge enlightened on the other side. The stories they tell are fantastic.
I recently met with my spiritual guide, who appears to me in the guise of a green fairy. Like the talking coyote who led Homer Simpson through his Chili-induced quest, the green fairy leads me on paths made for my steps alone. This night, my journey was… into the future.
The future?
That’s right, Conan, the future. All the way to the year 2007. And once I arrived there, I saw incredible and glorious things. Paging through a newspaper I found along the way, I learned the following facts:
1. In the year 2007 our nation is ruled by a monarchy… and our ruler is King Garth Brooks! The national anthem has been changed to “The River.”
2. In the year 2007 humans are birthed from cow placentas. I have no explanation for this fact.
3. In the year 2007 Duke is 1-15 in ACC conference play. Their only ACC win came against 1-15 UNC at the Dean Dome. The two teams meet twice a year in what is becoming known as the ‘new Army-Navy game.’
4. In the year 2007 happiness has been replaced by ‘contentment’ and sadness has been replaced by ‘melancholy.’ In related news, there is only one color, and it is mauve.
I could continue for hours about all the interesting facts I learned along the way. But it is sufficient to tell you that the year 2007 is a scary and frightful place. I was eager to return to my native time, never to set foot in this hellish realm ever again. But, on the back page of the ‘distractions’ section of the paper, I found an article that almost convinced me to hold on with both hands and stay in this era of what I soon realized was bliss. The headline read:
'"Creed" front man Scott Stapp declares band formally broken-up.’
I couldn’t believe my mauve-soaked eyes. Creed was gone. Creed: The bastion of sinners, followers of Damien, son of Satan, was no longer. I was overjoyed. I looked to the heavens, arms wide open, and for once knew that He existed. I wanted to know all of the facts that led to this fall from grace, this breakup of the most insidious and dangerous group since the "Committee on Unamerican Activities." I ran to the nearest library.
After hours pouring through Seventeen and Teen Beat, the story had become ingrained in my mind. It was almost too fantastic to believe. But the green fairy assured me it was true by placing her finger aside her nose and nodding twice. In the summer of 2003, there was dissention amongst the band mates over the name and cover of their new album. Lead singer Scott Stapp wanted the new album to be called Crucifixion Demigods and the Insatiable Rapture. He envisioned the cover to be a close up of his left eyeball, with the reflection of a church in flames seen in the pupil. His lone figure could be seen standing in front of the burning alter with a dove in his hand. The dove would be clasping a smaller version of Stapp in its talons.
The other members of the band, Mark Tremonti and Scott Phillips, felt this was not ‘epic’ enough for the standard of the band’s previous albums. They instead wished the album to be simply titled We are Gods, and the cover to picture the three band members completely rebuilding the World Trade Center by themselves, brick by brick. The South Tower was pictured to have a large crimson ‘C’ emblazoned on its side.
In the end, Stapp won out due to his amazing good looks and luxuriously shampooed and conditioned hair. The album was a commercial success, selling a bazillion copies worldwide. The damage to the band’s psyche, however, was severe. Stapp reportedly went into isolation after the fight with his bandmates, and at one point even considered switching shampoos. His family staged a group intervention in time and his locks were saved.
The band took some time off following the fall-out and even worked on some solo projects. Tremonti released the critically-panned $oaking in the Million$ on his own label. Phillips debuted a short-lived modern jazz quartet called The Hot Stick Boys comprised of four drummers. Their album, Beatin’ it, was a commercial disappointment.
During these lean years, Stapp took a shot at the silver screen-- writing, producing, directing, and starring in Wall, his own personal declaration of the isolation of stardom. Stapp released, in conjunction with the film, a two-CD rock opus (Also called Wall) that spoke of his lonely days living at the top. An excerpt from the album is as follows:
“Oh, I’ve rocked the world, I’ve rocked the house. Why can’t I rock down this wall-eee-all?
Let me rock it down, cast it asunder, down six feet under.
Down it gooooes, dow-eee-own it gooooes.
Oh father, in your golden throne, how can I rock down this wall-eee-all?”
The film, which cost in excess of $120 million to make, was a box-office blunder, grossing just over $400,000. At this point, with money in short supply and the band members applying for food stamps, they knew it was time for Creed to rise forth once again, calling upon its fan base of millions. In 2006 they reunited for a nine month stay in the studio. Recording with Phil Spector in Stapp’s own personal facility, the buzz was that the new album was ‘a modern day Let it Be, mixed with a dash of the magic of Styx.’
In the end, the public had other thoughts. The album, titled The Phoenix of God’s Divine Judgment debuted at #324 of the Billboard Hot 500. From there, it languished in the mid 300’s until it fell of the charts completely in week 7 of its release. The band was devastated, and completely stopped speaking to one another. Tremonti turned to the bottle for salvation. On two seperate occasions, Phillips was arrested for picking up transvestite prostitutes in Reno, Nevada. Stapp developed a well-publicized heroin habit that culminated in an extended stay in the Betty Ford Clinic and a short stop at the California Psychiatric Institute in Carmel. Band publicists called the treatment a ‘personal matter’ revolving around ‘trauma relating to his childhood.’
Less than a year later, in 2007, from the west spire of his personal compound, Stapp released the news that the band was now defunct. There would be no more Creed as far as he was concerned. He hoped the other members of the band would respect his ‘enlightened’ wishes and not tour as Creed, or face ‘assured eternal damnation.’
And those were all the facts available. As I walked from the library and hopped on my Segway to get back to the subway, I felt myself feeling a sense of sadness for the band that once ruled the charts. As the wind whipped through my hair and caused my eyes to water, I felt a strange feeling in my stomach. It almost seemed as if I was miraculously converted to being a fan of the once mighty band. But then I realized it was just gas. As the green fairy whispered in my ear that it was time to go back to the year 2003, I stepped boldly into the light and returned to the physical realm in which we all live. Once arrived, I turned on the radio and was greeted by a crooner who lamented, “What’s this life for?” All I could think was, “I don’t know, but you better enjoy it while it lasts.”
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