Music

Cherry Glazerr’s Clementine Creevy is Punk’s Reigning Feminist

Music

Cherry Glazerr’s Clementine Creevy is Punk’s Reigning Feminist

T-Shirt: Death to Tennis, Dress: Versus Versace, Harness: Zana Bayne, Boots: IRO, Sunglasses: Alexander McQueen
Jacket & Skirt: Chris Gelinas, Top: Thii, Belt & Choker: Zana Bayne, Necklace & Rings: Shebee Gem, Boots: Creatures of the Wind
Dress: Creatures of the Wind, Top: Base Range, Belt & Choker: Zana Bayne, Shoes: Loeffler Randall, Rings: Shebee Gem
Jacket: DKNY, T-Shirt: Redwolf PDX, Dress: Hatch, Leather Top: Diesel Black & Gold, Skirt: Nomia, Boots: Creatures of the Wind
Jacket & Skirt: Chris Gelinas, Top: Thii, Belt & Choker: Zana Bayne, Necklace & Rings: Shebee Gem, Boots: Creatures of the Wind
Jacket: DKNY, T-Shirt: Redwolf PDX, Dress: Hatch, Leather Top: Diesel Black & Gold, Skirt: Nomia, Boots: Creatures of the Wind
Jacket & Skirt: Chris Gelinas, Top: Thii, Belt & Choker: Zana Bayne, Necklace & Rings: Shebee Gem, Boots: Creatures of the Wind
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Photography: Bex Gunther

Creative Direction: Alexandra Weiss

Styling: Kimberly Nguyen

Hair: Mustafa Yanaz

Makeup: Beau Derrick

Clementine Creevy is the real deal. In a world of highly curated social media profiles and designer grunge, Creevy prefers Crocs and can’t be found on Instagram. With her scuzz-pop band, Cherry Glazerr, the singer and guitarist crafts catchy noise rock with existential lyrics, part Sabbath, part Sonic Youth. Their latest release, Apocalipstick, shows the band moving past the gritty sludge of their first record, 2014’s Haxel Princess, to deliver a cutting mix of cerebral feminist anthems as authentic as it gets.

Started when Creevy was still in high school, Cherry Glazerr quickly took over LA’s garage rock scene, landing her guest roles on Transparent and the Saint Laurent runway. But Creevy is much more at home topless, in her garage, jamming with drummer Tabor Allen and multi-instrumentalist, Sasami Ashworth. Her genuine love of music and willingness to be both vulnerable and outspoken, make Creevy the frontwoman punk rock desperately needs.

BULLETT caught up with the singer to talk Apocalipstick, feminism and finding her voice.



What was the most challenging part of making Apocalipstick?

It was definitely a lesson in collaboration in a big way, like I’d never experienced before. I still write all the stuff, but this time, I had a lot more input, a lot more voices. Producers come in and give their experience and lend their expertise, and that’s also just saying they’re going to change your record, if you want it to be a collaborative process. I can’t help but be obsessed with authorship—I can try not to, but human ego always tends to come back around. So it was just a big lesson in being egoless and trying to serve the songs, first and foremost.

What were you trying to achieve with the record?

I’m not trying achieve anything and I don’t care what people take away from it either—I just had fun doing it. The reward comes simultaneously with creating it.

How has the band dynamic changed with the new lineup?

We jam a lot more, but we also have a way more connected musical language. We have this level of trust and comfortability that I’ve never had with anyone else—we can just fuck up and play bad notes, that’s the point. There’s no judgement, there’s no stopping—we’ll just sit and work for hours, and for fun.

What were you able to do with Apocalipstick that you weren’t with Haxel Princess?

I had these ideas in my head and the producer really pushed me to try everything. He would just be like, ‘Let’s try this, let’s try that, let’s try this, let’s throw that away, let’s bring it back, let’s deconstruct the whole song, let’s add a bridge,’ and I’d be like, ‘Whoa. That’s gnarly.’ But then I let myself really listen, and I allowed myself to be free. I allowed myself to fuck up and fail and sometimes, I would say, ‘I don’t like this and we’re not going to do it,’ which really was the hardest part of making this record.



Why?

It’s hard enough feeling awkward in general, but then as a girl—it was like me, who has no idea what the fuck they’re doing, or saying, or talking about, but I write good songs, and that’s why everyone else is in the room. I’m the boss, but I don’t feel like the boss, because I’m a 16-year-old girl who’s in a room with a 50-year-old producer who worked with fucking Frank Zappa, and The Killers, and has worked on so many great records. He’s a phenomenal, patient, awesome person, creative collaborator, and such a great guy. But it was hard to speak with an older man that was that experienced, and hard to maintain control. I kept telling myself, ‘Well the whole point is that I’m trying to give up control and trying to bring in other collaborators.’ But at the same time, sometimes it felt bad.

Do you think being a girl in the music industry has its advantages?

Everyone loves to be like, ‘Okay this young girl is going to be in charge of her record and I’m going to be a part of that. I want to support it.’ But that’s your male ego talking. I know you want to support me and it’s great to be an ally—but you’re still taking up space. And all the while I’m thinking, ‘I’m just an awkward loser. I don’t know why you guys are here.’

You’ve said ‘Told You I’d Be With The Guys’ is about finding female friendship. What inspired you to write it?

My relationship to that song changes throughout my life and with my relationships. At that point in my life, I was just coming out of a long term relationship and I was hanging out with my girlfriends a lot more than I had been. I think every woman and person understands that—like, you get into a relationship and you’re kind of tied at the hip, because you have a buddy, and it’s your best friend. Then you don’t have that person anymore, or that relationship changes, so you hang out with your friends more. It sucks, but it happens. I’m not going to say I haven’t done it and I wish I could say I’m more steady with always hanging out with my girlfriends, but I’m not because of the way I think ingrained sexism and ingrained gender roles have infiltrated my brain—and everyone else’s.



I think all women feel that way because we’ve been conditioned to compete with each other and put each other down.

It’s something you have to work on and be aware of everyday. Women are socialized to hate themselves, therefore they hate each other, because they hate things that look like them. Women are competitive with each other for the attention of men, and men are competitive with each other for the whole world—they are competing with each other for a multitude of things, for power, for jobs, for creations, for life, for so many opportunities and vast artistic things. And women are competitive with each other for one thing—being attractive to men. It can be really defeating and claustrophobic. Simone De Beauvoir has this great quote—she says, “Women move clumsily through this world because it doesn’t belong to them.”

How does feminism play into your music?

The thing is, feminism is conceptually the political, economic and social equality between men and women, all women. I think anybody with half a brain, can get on board with that concept. So when I get asked, ‘Are you a feminist?’ I sort of think, ‘Of course I am. Aren’t you?’

Why do you think people are still scared of that word?

I love every way women try to dismantle the patriarchy and people can do that from a multitude of different ways, from being a housewife to being a radical. But I think it’s hard for women right now, who are hearing the feminist agenda on a mainstream platform, who are from fucking Nebraska and are 60, and have a totally different life and lived experience. They want the same things we do. They want equality, but their equality looks different.

How do you think you’ve evolved since writing Apocalipstick?

I think I was confused and angry, and I’m still confused and angry.


Shot at Starr Street Studios in Brooklyn.