I Think Up Demons

There’s a high that I’m always chasing, and the beauty of it is that, unlike the most dangerous drugs, I can catch this one over and over again. It’s a geek high, of course. I’m talking about discovering new art that simply gets in your head and plays with the gears. It can come from anywhere. For film, a good example is my discovery of Japanese ghost movies before they got big in North America, when I’d go to Chinatown to search for imports and bootlegs. For paintings, it was the Dali coffee table book that my dad bought me when I was about five, which was full of mind-bending images I couldn’t make any sense of but also couldn’t take my eyes off of. In comic books, I became enthralled with the original British Judge Dread series after stumbling across it in Scotland while on a family vacation.

All of these things changed my conception of what a certain type of art could/should be. The J-horror ghost stories frightened me in an entirely new way; Dali showed my young mind that a painting wasn’t just a bowl of fruit or a lake-and-mountain landscape, like the stuff that hung at my grandma’s house; and Judge Dread proved that comic book heroes weren’t just altruistic do-gooders in tights – they can also merciless, gun-toting ball-busters.

That high of finding something that you just can’t devour enough of, happens the most with music, though, which is logical given that prevalence of the form. The latest music high I’ve been chasing since hearing one of his songs on the radio is Roky Erickson – a guy who chased a few too many highs himself. Originally a member of psychedelic ‘60s pioneers The 13th Floor Elevators, where acid was the fifth food group, he was busted with pot and his lawyer pleaded insanity, which landed him in an institution with hardened, genuinely crazy criminals for three years. Already suffering from mental problems exacerbated by drug use, the incarceration and shock treatment sent him on a slow spiral downward.

Al least it did mentally and physically – musically, as a solo artist, he crafted some of the greatest rock songs after being sent away. He wrote a bunch of horror-themed songs that tell of monsters, aliens, vampires and demons. His, bluesy rock riffs, frantic vocals and wild lyrics (often full of the paranoia filled metaphors that aren’t surprising for someone with schizophrenia) are so beyond cool, catchy and original that the man seemed touched by something otherworldly. For me, they’re tunes, notably my fave, “I Think Up Demons,” that give me that where-have-you-been-all-my-life buzz that makes me want to grab strangers on the street and scream at them, “WHY THE F**K AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ROKY ERICKSON? RIGHT NOW?!? AAARGH!!!”

This excitement led me to the 2005 documentary You’re Gonna Miss Me (named for the most famous 13^th Floor Elevators song). Interspersing the troubled history of Roky and rest of the Erickson family through extensive interviews, old photos and home movies, as well as testimonials from musicians such as ZZ-Top's Billy Gibbons and Patti Smith, it focuses on the fight for some of Roky’s brothers to make one of them, Sumner, a tuba player with the Pittsburgh Symphony, his legal guardian.

Under the care of their mother, Evelyn – who is presented as eccentric at best and mentally ill herself at worst – Roky has deteriorated to the point of being an unwashed hermit living in squalor, complete with long fingernails, matted hair and life-threatening mouth abscesses. He hasn’t played music in years, isn’t being paid proper royalties and can only sleep with noise blasting in his room. One of the great singer-songwriters of the ’60, ‘70s and ‘80s is reduced to a glassy-eyed child-man by the time he’s in his ‘50s.

The doc begins in 1999 and follows him through several years: the time leading up to the hearing, the hearing, an epilogue and DVD extra follow up footage of him in 2005 and 2007 (the year the DVD was released). Even if you’re a worthless musical heathen and aren’t into Erickson’s work, You’re Gonna Miss Me is one of the best documentaries on a musician out there. Director Keven McAlester starts with a fascinating subject and mounts a dramatic journey full of heartache, hope and some twists that are sometimes amusing, sometimes disturbing and usually both. Without dishing spoilers, let’s just say that Roky’s mom has some outrageous artistic endeavours that speak to a very peculiar mother/son relationship, and, in the end, you’re not even quite sure if Sumner is entirely with it either.

It’s a vital chronicle of an important artist on the brink, and guaranteed to make you a fan of Roky, if not his music (heathen!). But You’re Gonna Miss Me also does what a great character study doc should do and gives you plenty to read between the lines. It becomes clear that Erickson’s problems weren’t caused only by mental illness, or drug use, or shock therapy, or his family, or neglect, but a shitstorm combo that could’ve easily killed him. There’s enough suggestion and ambiguity to keep you speculating after the credits roll (even more of it fuelled by some of the DVD extras, such as “The Collected Works of Evelyn Erickson”), and the live performance extras are the icing on the weird, wonderful Roky Erickson cake.

Ultimately, it's a moving window into the fractured world of a man fighting for a chance to control his demons, even if he can’t exorcise them. Erickson sang it best: “Don’t Shake Me Lucifer.”

 (Roky Erickson photo by Paul Familetti)

-Dave Alexander