The origin of Crig: “What’s important to me now is just creating music”
We all give in to gravity and end up in the ground eventually, it’s what you do when you’re upright that counts. Recently, post-punk impresario Craig Johnson was discussing this subject of all subjects with a friend who wanted to be interred into the dirt in a cardboard box, leaving as little mark in memorium as he had left in life. That’s not how Johnson sees things—he wants to be remembered, a proverbial ‘somebody’ who did ‘something’. So, he popped a makeshift bungalow on his head and got to work on the debut single from his first solo EP, ‘You Want To Be Buried In a Cardboard Box’.
Our chat about this project began on a spring day when death seemed very far away. Buds were bursting into life, and coats and hats were being shelved. Before advancing towards his new music venture, Johnson wanted to pause on the summery topic of people wearing office shorts, suggesting they should be banned. I told him that it might be difficult legislation to enact nationally—the postal service would likely protest—but it should be passable on a company policy basis.
The fact that moments later, we were talking about the legacy or lack thereof that people want to leave behind is indicative of the wry and whimsical way that the new Crig EP, simply titled Crig, deals with such matters. The profundity is layered beneath playfulness, mirroring the mode of indie movies in their ’00s heyday before the overwhelming perchance for surrealism and overbearing, obvious subtexts kicked in.
Prior to this juncture, Johnson was fronting up the band Autobahn – something he intends to go back to in the future – but an urge to open up his creativity came calling. “With our band, it became less about writing a song anymore. It was more about a feeling, a concept, a piece of music,” he explains. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I really wanted to get back into writing a song end-to-end. I really wanted to focus on improving my songwriting, my lyric writing.”
So, Crig became a playful pursuit. It became the journey of an artist rediscovering why they started making art in the first place. Johnson joined poetry societies, dug into his old Beat Happening albums, read, and wrote every day. “I got really in-depth about the whole creative process, how to get into flow better, and in what states I can prime myself to create. I quite easily tap into that now, to be able to get into a state to write. I hear a lot of artists and people talk about how these things just come to them. But I think you can really nurture it.”
“That’s one of the problems with the internet. It has devalued the worth of music.”
Craig Johnson
Liberated by this process, he began working independently at an electric pace. Soon, he found himself with “about 30 songs”. Unbeknownst to Johnson, this is an important figure. In a recent discussion with an industry expert, I was informed that algorithms only really start recognising you as a viable, recommendable artist when you have around 30 songs uploaded to a platform. That’s a lot of music. And it is here where Crig, a project set up solely with the purest purpose of art in mind, inadvertently intersects with the wider ways of the modern music industry.
As Johnson admits, the whole DIY process that he has embarked upon is “undeniably easier” than his work with his Leeds band alongside a longstanding label. But by the same convoluted token that typifies maddening modern life, he also accepts that it’s his experience with a band “and a great label” that has made it so easy to set one up of his own. “For whatever reason, I wanted to do this one on my own label. So, it’s been end-to-end, my own thing. It’s been created, recorded, and mixed by me. That’s been another challenge that I’ve found really exciting. But the whole problem is, you need to start somewhere.”
In addressing this potent problem head-on himself, Johnson also realised, “I want to start maybe giving back as well—not just musically—but to help others get going. So, I think I’ll start with my own music and then transition into that.” It’s a wholesome attitude and a positive outlook that exemplifies the whole Crig project. The music carries this same sense of benevolence. Beneath the lo-fi indie melodies, there is a zeal and zest for life. It’s relaxed music, and it knows its place.
“I think for me, as I’ve got older, I’ve realised what’s important to me now is just creating music. It’s putting that out there. It’s having the ability to be able to play that, to meet other people. Like many people, I’d love to be able to push that further, but there are limits. All I’d say to younger generations is to make music that’s authentic to you, that you enjoy playing. Go and play—keep playing until you know, and if you love it, you’ll just want to do it regardless,” he explains.
Assured, mellowed and flowing like honey, Crig finds Johnson getting comfortable at the prickly precipice of art and industry, and whether it was intended or not, his debut EP reflects that in its own quirky way. He doesn’t want to be buried in a cardboard box, but he also doesn’t emulate Elvis in the song and decree that he’ll depart in a golden casket. His desire to make a mark is more mellow, idiosyncratic and righteous than that—the same can be said for the music. He lets his Cossack hate hairstyle hold up the rock ‘n’ roll.
“With Crig, I originally just wanted to put out lots of music; a couple of albums a year. The key thing for me is enjoying it,” he says. “I’ve never really listened to King Gizzard much. I don’t know why I never did, but I listened to a couple of their records last year, and I enjoyed it. I really like the model that they do. You know, it’s like, three, four records a year and they play a lot. For me, that’s great, you know? It just breaks that fucking one-and-a-half-year cycle that everyone else is doing.” It also comes across as a labour of love—you don’t put out 27 albums in 15 years and tour relentlessly unless you enjoy it.
Once again, however, this presents another tricky problem. At what point does pure output outstrip refined artistry? “I’m also a big fan of the perfect album,” Johnson explains. “I think there should always be quality control, too. That’s one of the problems with the internet. It has devalued the worth of music. There’s too much behind-the-scenes stuff, too. It gives away the mystery. I don’t want to think that these people are human.”
So, why Johnson’s preponderances might delineate many of the dilemmas the modern musician faces, his debut EP as Crig also helps to answer them. It approaches the quandaries of life with a cathartic charm that affirms the right approach can make a molehill of a mountain.
