S3 Episode 40: The Wild World of Creative Chaos and Why It Deserves Your Support
Listen to the full episode here:
Normal life is boring. Beige walls, polite smiles, and the same boring playlists on repeat. But throw in some sweaty wrestlers, ear-splitting heavy metal, or a 24-hour play festival, and suddenly life feels alive again. That’s what creative chaos does—it slaps you awake and reminds you that dull is for cowards.
But here’s the kicker. The people bringing us this madness they’re not living large. Wrestlers slam each other for scraps. Musicians get paid less than your spare change for streams. And don’t even get me started on artists who can’t buy lunch without selling a kidney.
In this article, we will take you into the wild world of creative chaos. We’ll talk about wrestling at kids' parties, heavy metal bands that make your ears beg for mercy, and a theater festival so insane it feels like a dare.
You’ll hear from Chayo Rodriguez about wrestling’s raw energy, Eric Beck from Gaslight Baker Theatre on the chaos of indie theater, and Gregory Keogh on how creators are fighting to get paid and Curios actually lets them keep their hard-earned money.
Why Wrestling Events Are the Best Creative Chaos
Let’s be honest - your parties are boring. What if I told you can fix that with sweaty men throwing each other around in spandex?
Yep, wrestling isn’t just for arenas anymore. It’s showing up at birthdays, bachelor parties, divorces, and even gender reveals. Nothing screams “It’s a girl!” like a dude getting slammed onto a mat while the crowd loses their minds.
Wrestling Dreams Start with Jumping Off Your Mom’s Couch
Wrestling doesn’t just magically happen—it starts in childhood. Kids grow up tossing siblings off beds and power-bombing pillows.
Fast forward; some of them buy a wrestling ring and make it real. It’s a mix of passion and just enough madness to turn backyard wrestling into a full-blown show.
The goal? Get people to lose their mind while screaming “YES!” or booing like they just saw their ex walk in.
Lucha Libre vs. American Wrestling
Let’s break it down:
Lucha Libre (Mexican Wrestling): Masks, flips, and aerial moves that make gravity look weak. It’s wild.
American Wrestling: It’s a dramatic soap opera with chairs to the face. It’s not about flips—it’s about telling a story and making you care whether the good guy wins.
Both are intense, but together? It’s like tequila and tacos—pure perfection.
Want a Party to Remember Bring the Creative Chaos Ring
Wrestlers don’t just do shows—they show up anywhere you want chaos. They’ll wrestle at your kid’s birthday party or your cousin’s messy second divorce.
They’ve even done gender reveals, where someone probably gets suplexed before announcing “It’s a boy!” And yes, they adjust the ring for low ceilings because not every venue can handle all that flying man-meat.
Heavy Metal + Wrestling
Sometimes, there’s live heavy metal too. Picture this: a dude gets body-slammed while someone shreds on guitar. If that doesn’t make you feel alive, nothing will.
So, stop throwing lame parties. Book a wrestling show, grab some beer, and watch people scream, cheer, and maybe even cry.
Just stay back unless you want to risk getting hit by flying sweat or a stray folding chair.
The Loudest Creative Chaos of Heavy Meddo
Ever heard music so loud it rattled your brain and made you rethink your life choices? Meet Heavy Meddo—a band that plays like they’re trying to raise the dead, one eardrum at a time.
If you thought heavy metal couldn’t get weirder, think again. These guys don’t just play music; they unleash an unholy racket that somehow makes sense.
The Band: Four Dudes and a Whole Lot of Noise
Heavy Meddo is a group of four friends who probably got together and thought, “What if we just make the loudest, weirdest noise possible?” And boy, they delivered.
The lineup:
Elton Smith
Jordan Johns
Bill Baird
Jonathan Horn (on guitar, probably destroying it like it owes him money).
These guys have played a gazillion shows, earning reactions from “This is genius!” to “What on earth is this?”
What’s “Headpiece Horseman” Even About?
Their song “Headpiece Horseman” is a masterpiece of pure chaotic energy.
Here’s the gist:
A headless patient roams around, riding ponies and stumbling into decay.
There’s a wax museum, a barber chair, and peeled eyeballs (yes, seriously).
It’s bizarre, creepy, and weirdly catchy. You’ll listen and think, “Did I just join a cult?”
It’s like someone gave Edgar Allan Poe a guitar and dared him to write metal lyrics after three bottles of whiskey.
Why Heavy Meddo Fits Perfectly Into Creative Chaos
These guys don’t just play gigs—they show up, crank the volume to “What the hell,” and blow your mind.
They’ve performed at wrestling matches, shady venues, and probably some dude’s divorce party. Wherever they play, they leave people stunned, confused, and maybe a little deaf.
Why It Matters
Love them or hate them, you won’t forget them. Heavy Meddo doesn’t care if you “get it.” They’re here to melt faces, break eardrums, and leave you wondering why the hell you enjoyed it so much.
If you’re into weird, loud, and downright chaotic music, this is your band. Just don’t blame them if your grandma walks out mid-show.
How Creative Chaos Drives Baker Theater’s 24-Hour Play Festival
Imagine trying to create a full play in just 24 hours. Sounds stupid, right? Well, the Baker Theater crew doesn’t just do it—they somehow make it work.
This annual disaster-in-the-making brings together writers, directors, and actors, tosses them in a blender of chaos, and spits out something people actually want to watch.
How This Beautiful Madness Works
Here’s how they pull off this insanity:
Friday Night, 7 PM: Teams get picked out of a hat. Yes, like magic tricks, but with less glitter and more panic.
7:30 PM: Writers start chugging coffee and churning out scripts. Sleep? Never heard of her.
Saturday, 8 AM: Directors and actors get the script and immediately start rehearsing. Who needs breakfast when you have adrenaline?
Saturday Afternoon: Lights, sound, and props come together. If it works, great. If not, who cares?
Saturday Night: Curtains up! Each play lasts 15 minutes, just long enough for the audience to process what they’ve witnessed.
This year, they cranked out seven plays in one day. Seven! Most people can’t even decide what to eat for dinner in 24 hours.
Kids Running the Show
This year, kids took over. A 10-year-old wrote a play, a 9-year-old directed, and a crew of preteens acted. The result? Pure brilliance. These tiny humans worked like pros, with zero tantrums or screaming.
Honestly, they’ve already got better teamwork skills than most adults. Meanwhile, their parents probably sat in the audience wondering how they birthed such competent little bosses.
David Lynch Meets Theater
As if things weren’t weird enough, a filmmaker showed up and turned the event into a short film. Think David Lynch, but with less darkness and more WTF energy. It’s artsy, confusing, and oddly satisfying—kind of like trying to make sense of modern art while tipsy.
Why It’s Worth It
Sure, this festival sounds like a recipe for a mental breakdown, but that’s the fun of it. It’s messy, ridiculous, and proof that people can make magic under pressure. Plus, who doesn’t want to see a 9-year-old bossing people around like a tiny dictator?
So, if you’re into sleepless nights and a ton of laughs, sign up next year. Just don’t expect to come out with your dignity intact.
A Song About Love Loss and Bus Rides in Creative Chaos
Let’s talk about romance—the kind that starts with tacos, a steamy goodbye, and a mysterious one-way trip. “Mexico Lindo” takes you there. It’s the musical equivalent of locking eyes, feeling something deep, and then getting ghosted so hard you forget your own name.
The Story: Tacos, Tequila, and Trouble
Here’s the setup:
She asks you to meet her by the water. Innocent, right?
She has “something to tell you.”
Next thing you know, she’s catching a bus to Mexico City, leaving you and your poor heart behind.
You think, “Okay, this is fine. Maybe she’ll write. Maybe she’s just taking a little ‘me time.’”
But three years later? Not a single letter. Not even a smoke signal. You’re just some sad, forgotten gringo.
The Lyrics:
This song isn’t just about heartbreak—it’s about the kind of heartbreak that leaves marks.
Act 1: She’s leaving, and you’re too stunned to ask why.
Act 2: You’re driving south, chasing her shadow like a lovesick idiot.
Act 3: Years pass, and all you’ve got is tequila breath and a face you can barely remember.
By the end, you’re not just sad—you’re frustrated, heartbroken, and ready to chase the same bus.
The Video is a Fever Dream in Slow Motion
The video takes all this heartbreak and sprinkles in some David Lynch-style surrealism. Slow drives, open windows, and long stares that scream, “I’ve made some dumb decisions.” You can almost feel the sweat, tequila, and regret dripping off the screen.
Why It Hits Hard
“Mexico Lindo” isn’t just a song—it’s an anthem for everyone who’s ever been ghosted in the most dramatic way possible. It’s the musical equivalent of drunk-dialing your ex at 2 a.m., except instead of calling, you’re buying a bus ticket and hoping for closure.
Why Streaming Screws Artists and How Curios Fixes Creative Chaos
Let’s get straight to the point: artists earn $0.003 per stream. Not $3. Not 30 cents. Three-thousandths of a dollar. That means 1,000 streams won’t even buy a coffee, let alone fix a busted guitar string.
And if you’re wondering where the rest of your subscription money goes, it’s not to the artists. It’s to CEOs raking in millions while independent musicians sell their old gear to make rent.
Oh, and it’s not just the platforms cutting in. Labels, managers, and anyone with a pen and a contract get their slice. By the time the artist gets paid, they’d have made more babysitting your neighbor’s screaming kids.
Enter The Platform “Curios” That Gives a Damn
Curios is here to kick streaming’s greedy model. This Austin-based platform lets artists keep their hard-earned cash and actually gives them control over their work.
Here’s how it works:
You Set the Price: Want to sell your album for $5 or $50? It’s your call. Want to give it away for free? Fine, but maybe don’t.
Keep Every Dollar: Artists pocket 100% of their earnings. The only fees are credit card charges, and those get added to the buyer’s bill.
Own Your Fans: When someone buys your music, you get their info. No more guessing who loves you.
Streaming Isn’t Just a Music Problem
It’s not just musicians getting screwed. Authors, filmmakers, and even comedians are feeling the squeeze.
For instance, Amazon now pays authors per page read. Imagine sweating over a 300-page book only to earn less than you’d find in a couch cushion.
How Curios Plans to Shake Things Up
Curios isn’t just standing up to streaming platforms—it’s trying to change the whole system. They’re starting local in Texas, but the goal is global domination.
The Game Plan:
Direct Sales: Fans buy music directly from artists. No middlemen, no BS.
Crowdfunded Beginnings: Unlike big tech leeches, Curios was funded by everyday people who actually care about creators.
Empowering Artists: By giving artists control, Curios hopes to push Spotify and its cronies to either adapt or go extinct.
Stop Streaming and Start Supporting
If you’ve ever streamed a song and thought, “Wow, I really helped that artist out,” think again. Streaming is like tossing a penny in a wishing well and hoping it’ll fund someone’s college tuition.
If you actually like music—and the humans who make it—do better. Buy their songs. Go to their shows. Pay them like you’d pay for your coffee. Because at the end of the day, music isn’t free. Someone busted their ass to make it, and they deserve more than crumbs.
Conclusion
Let’s face it—life’s better with a little chaos. Whether it’s wrestlers flying through the air, bands melting faces with heavy riffs, or theater kids creating magic in 24 hours, creative chaos keeps us alive. It’s messy, unpredictable, and exactly what we need to escape the snooze-fest of everyday life.
Here’s the kicker: The people who bring us this madness—musicians, wrestlers, and creators—aren’t rolling in cash. Streaming pays them peanuts, and most of the profits end up in some CEO’s golden toilet fund. It’s gross, but it’s real.
So, stop treating creativity like free Wi-Fi. It’s time to support the chaos that makes life worth living. Because without it, we’d all be sitting in silent rooms, staring at beige walls, slowly losing our minds. Nobody wants that.
FAQs
Why do wrestlers, musicians, and theater folks keep doing this if they’re broke?
Because chaos is addictive. The cheers, the gasps, the unhinged energy—it's like a drug, but legal (mostly).
How do you survive a Creative Chaos event?
Stay hydrated, expect the unexpected, and don’t wear white unless you enjoy mystery stains. If a chair flies at you, duck.
Can Creative Chaos happen in everyday life?
Yes. Try grocery shopping on a Sunday or watching a dad assemble IKEA furniture without swearing. That’s real chaos.
Why do big corporations hate Creative Chaos?
Because it’s wild and unpredictable. They can’t package it neatly, slap a logo on it, or sell it to suburban moms.
How do I support Creative Chaos without getting dropkicked?
Buy the tickets. Stream music, but also buy albums. Tip artists. Share their work. Don’t be a freeloader.
