OUT OF BODY
CREEM takes Dazy to the fetus factory.
Philadelphia’s Mutter Museum, a colonial building located in the city’s center, is filled with over 3,000 osteological attractions, including skulls, full skeletons, 1,500 wet specimens acquired between the 19th and 21st centuries, fetuses, tumors, cysts, medical oddities, and instruments that could (and, historically, did) double as torture devices. It is here, on a cool December day, that I’m rounding the corner to meet James Goodson, the man behind the fuzzed-out Richmond act Dazy. I wasn’t sure if he, a musician beloved by emos, punks, and indie rockers, like some modern-day Lemmy, would be into this place—or if he would notice me frantically Googling him to make sure I was approaching the correct white dude in Doc Martens that scream, “1 used to put on shows in my basement.” (Or, most interestingly of all, if he is aware that dazy—lowercase d—is the name of the producer behind an inescapable TikTok hit called “Sunroof” by Nicky Youre, and, as such, makes his shit impossible to find.) Luckily for me, James is already sitting on the steps, looking at his phone, in all-black clothing that would give anyone away as an alt-rock musician. (Or, as I call it, the “Philly uniform.”) That and a single button on his jacket help with recognition; it's the image of a melting globe, the same one that appears on the cover of his 2022 album, OUTOFBODY.
As we walk into the museum, it becomes immediately clear that nobody involved—not James, not myself, not J, the photographer for this piece—is too familiar with the contents of the place itself beyond the broad idea of “spooky antique medical equipment.” That’s a shame, because upon arrival, we learn that you cannot actually take photos in here, and that security will surely drill us the moment we attempt any funny stuff. Still, here we are, ready to make some rock ’n’ roll magic. The first floor is full of tightly packed cases containing malformed skeletons and body parts floating in formaldehyde. It’s also silent—every foot shuffle booms, the heavy library-esque air forcing everyone into a whisper. I ask James if he’s into creepy stuff, using my best inside voice.
