Stalker Interview - 09/26/22

The following is an archival interview from 2022. The author of the blog, Gabriel Gamlin, had the pleasure of interviewing a friend and contemporary, Stalker. At the time of this interview, Stalker was going by a different moniker, Rockin Riley. This interview was written during the rollout and development of the album "the last one."

The interview was archived during a refresh of the blog.

Thanks for having me. Let's start out with some basics. What are your preferred pronouns, and where are you from?

Ok ok so uhm, basic overview of the "artist in question," me, uhhh...

Hi, I'm Riley, also known as Rockin' Riley or to some in the more obscure scenes, Riley from the band in purgatory "Soft Core Doors." 

I'm from the deepest depths of Alabama, aka Coffee Springs, and my pronouns are she/they/it.

Thank you. Did you pick the name Rockin' Riley, or is there some other story behind it?

Well, haha, it's sort of a funny story. It started out as like, a joke name for a different alias, which for personal reasons I won't disclose. I killed off that alias and didn't know what to name myself, so I just started using Rockin' Riley as a serious name.

I understand the need to be discreet. You did mention Coffee Springs, though. The second track on Emergency Calls Only is about a rather odd story from the area. What else can you tell us about Coffee Springs that a listener may not already know?

Its one of those "Old people come to die" towns. One where like, everyone knows everyone, but its not in this homely, cute way. It's just, "Yeah I know that bastard, yeah his kid is always loud, yeah her wife is a whore."

Gossip spreads like wildfire among the old people who are clutching onto life with white knuckles or lucked out when covid swept through the area.

I'm assuming, both from the track and your response, that the staleness of the area inspires a lot of anguish. How did it play into you beginning your journey on spoken word recordings?

Well its just very... bland. Every single inch of ground in this town I've explored and every broken glass fracture of gossip I've picked up and learned. 

It's just repetition daily. If I had half of a musician's skill, I'd be the best slowcore musician crooning about familiarity and trauma in a town that is slowly dying out, and being devoured by another town thats also a whole however many acres of nothing.

There's no magic here anymore. All the kids who cried over Santa not being real grew up and left, or stayed around doing donuts in church parking lots while drinking mouthwash. It's like that movie Gummo. You know about Gummo right? Imagine Gummo, but dogshit nothing.

I've not seen it. I'll put it on my watchlist.

I've noticed you have a very poetic way of describing the town, despite how mundane it seems to be. How much of the way you write your recordings is influenced by your stream of consciousness? Do you write any of the story prior to recording?

A lot of it is looped repeatedly in my head. An outline, turned into a draft, turned into a piece with little notes written on my phone... but once the recording starts its sort of just, instantly melted. I have to improvise as I go.

Emergency Calls Only and its sibling Hazard Report 2022 are going to forever be outliers in my work, because they're both sort of what led this "next phase" to happen, I guess.

What is the "next phase" of your work? How does it differ from what came before?

Well, the next phase is uh... these two projects I'm working on, one is a precursor ep, and one is a huge main album. They're going to be the last two albums under the Rockin' Riley name.

The name will then be retired and fictionalized.

Will these next projects be leaning more into ambient music or compositions, or is there some other X factor being introduced?

Let's see... ambient, black metal, plunderphonics, slowcore, a bunch of stuff, really. I spent so long being regarded as a trauma noise artist, which is a title I genuinely appreciate, but, I can't live like it anymore.

In a way, Emergency Calls Only / Hazard Report 2022 kind of made it to where I've become genuinely disgusted with Rockin' Riley as a title, as a name, as a person.

From what I'm hearing, you don't want to be fully associated with your pains as described on your previous works? The Rockin Riley title seems to incur a negativity.

Somewhat, yes, that's why this next phase is sort of framing it all as if it's this huge public access show ran by a burned out and traumatized director on its last season.

The two future projects are called, uhh,

"(pitch reel.)" and "Retirement Note (It's Too Embarrassing To Die.)"

They're concept projects about turning the trauma, life, and character into an artform from a piece of fiction.

Rendering the pain from them into something numbing, rather. Instead of a stab, its just a light, blunt feeling. Until after a while of portraying it as fiction, it becomes nothing painful anymore.

Like retelling urban legends and myths of scary monsters.

I do this as a method of reaching out to my younger self, who was extremely traumatized and for years. 

I vehemently loathed her. This is my way of showing forgiveness to myself, after years of denying myself any sort of closure like that for lord knows how long. It's the least I could do since the damage is already done.

Healing wounds seems to be a big element of your work. Often with your releases you feature cover art with heavily distorted and dreary visuals. Where from your life or craft did you draw inspiration to create these images?

Well, a lot of it is sort of this obsession with the past in terms of media and culture. 

That dead-sweetspot in the middle of the 2000s into late 2010s, where everyone had usernames like "spongebob9" or "TheIranSonic55" and they'd draw like, FNAF characters crucifying themselves in Christ's name, or two characters from completely unrelated medias smashing faces while they're blueberrified and the artist is like 14 and doesn't know any better or why they're doing it other than they love doing it.

That's why the cover art to pitchreel has various different deviantart pieces mashed together, with Binky the Rabbit from Life is Hell displaying Mr. Game & Watch from Nintendo being crucified on a cross.

It's using that same, like, media "cringe culture" crossovers that we all suckle on and loathe and spit vitriol at now because, "Of course, how else do we cope with our own short comings," and turning it into this more

warped and dreary landscape.

Holes patched with behind the scenes photos from Jim Henson's early commercials and work. Jim Henson is also a huge inspiration to the artistic vision.

It's like, one part terminally online to death, and one part mentally ill forever running artist making works he deems unfit with puppets.

That's interesting. From both this interview and your work, there seems to be a deep cynicism towards the online world, whether it be from past abuse or any other sort of intolerance or indifference. If you don't mind answering, how does your experience online impact what you do in your art?

It's sort of a weirdly loaded answer because I've had mostly nothing but shitty online experiences, being both a shitty horrible person online, and being groomed and nearly molested by various people on sex chats from 11 to 17. 

It just made me see everything as shit, while also having this disgusting "angel of hope" sheer will to keep walking. Even after various suicide attempts and nights spent replaying trauma as some sort of punishment, I still keep going.

Personally, I think it's over for me.

So, what I do now in my art is, just make it for someone who feels the way I do, and hope it helps them...

Because, even if its way too late for me, if i can pose myself as this beacon for someone who feels the same strings and same shadow hands in spots they look away and shiver about, maybe that can help me as well.

All i want to do in my art is just show people there's ways out that aren't through the self.

To ask another possibly loaded question, what do you mean when you say it's "Too Late" for you? While it may be unprofessional to mention in an interview, know that I and others are willing to support you in any way feasible to possibly help you through any of the troubles that might inspire the pain you express so often.

Ok, ok, how do I word this?

You go through eons of trauma, you go through it survive, grow up, more trauma, survive, exist, survive. 

It's this infinite cycle of survival and finding yourself and becoming happy and blah, blah, blah, et. al and the like.

Maybe its the defeatism in me showing in saying this, but I just believe for me a lot of my existence will never be, like, "that" happiness.

Like, yeah, I get happy sometimes. "Haha, boom, you got me in check my friend, I bow for you."

But, even after the worst trauma I went through, even after the closure for something that hurt me happened, even after the processing, I never truly felt that runners high, top of the hill feeling.

Or, maybe I did and I can't remember. 

A year of huffing gasoline can kinda wipe the memory banks, kinda, haha.

There's an injury reserve song that I quote to myself a lot. Or, a line, rather...

"Ain't no savin' me, ain't no savin' me or you."

It brings me more comfort than telling myself that I'm gonna be okay.

I'm comfortable in where I am. I don't want to die, but I am comfortable in the fact that I won't truly feel better for years from what happened.

A sort of acceptance that while you may not ever be the same after the many trials and traumas life has given you, you can be content that you've made it through those things, and it provides some sort of satisfaction to know those evils didn't beat you. Am I getting it?

I think so.

The evil didn't beat me, but in a way, they won. They took everything that sort of made me "me," and warped it, and molested it, and bit into it, and etc, etc, drivel...

But, I'm still here, somehow, and people are happy that I'm here!

Which is neat.

I'm happy to know the support has reached your heart, but I hope you continue to look for a way to find that seemingly unreachable joy. I would say it's a journey every honest person continues to undertake. Thank you for your honesty.

Is there anything else you'd like to say or want to discuss?

Hmm... I guess just like, despite how inescapably suicidal I am, I'm happy that I exist. I'm very happy that I'm loved, and I'm very thankful for everyone who ever bothered to care about me, (and) keep me around. 

I can't word it to them vocally without saying "fuck you" at the end because my brain considers showing kindness through words a weakness, but, I love everyone.

Know that you are also loved. Thank you for your time and candor, Riley. I wish the best in your future projects and endeavors.

Stalker has since posted several new works under their current title, and has continued to grow and evolve not only as an artist, but as a person.

4/22 - 23/25 - Fingers

When I was younger, I'd express my frustration with my fingers. I would mangle and tense my fingers so much. It's just about getting that pressure out, the intensity.

I don't do that anymore because I ironed it out of my personality. It was a sacrifice I made, to be more personable. I think it was the right decision. Nowadays my fingers ache and stiffen without any help. I crack my knuckles every other second just to manage anxiety.

It's been getting worse, because it's spread to my jaw. My jaw, it's become a bit restless. It twitches and stings in the daytime, it rolls and grinds in the night. I was grinding my teeth last night, and I wasn't even asleep yet. My jaw starts to waver and twitch when I'm struggling to manage my frustration.

I don't know why I decided to start writing this stuff down. I think it helps, but not in any ways that matter. I think, maybe I'm not giving it enough time, not looking at it from the right angle.

I'm a little trapped right now, in my life situation, but I think thats fine. As frustrating as it is, I think it's fine. I had $50 and I spent it all on essentials. Gas, Parking, Food. I feel like shit about it. I wish I wasted my money like I used to. My conviction towards lofty moralism is my undoing, I deprive myself of my little treatlerite tendencies. I haven't bought a Marvel Comic book in over 2 years. I don't expect a pat on the back, the cause is for people more in need than I ever will be. 

I don't know. I'm not happy. I've forgotten all the little lessons in taught myself in college. I don't know how to talk to people anymore, I lost the eye contact balance. I keep having it so I either don't look at people in the eyes at any point, or I stare at them. It's never how I intend to be with others.

I haven't been able to take my estradiol in two weeks, and it's starting to affect my mood and my skin. The dysmorphia is back, in full force. I feel disgusting. I've been thinking that it's insulting to assert my identity as being at all legitimate in a public space. I don't want to be around my friends anymore, so I guess I've gotten over the anxious attachment problem. 

The sickness would tell me, that it is better not to burden these good people anymore. I don't want to be around them because of a psychosis that's convinced me that I'm not worth the trouble, that I'm on a lesser level to my peers. It's self serious bullshit, this imposter syndrome. It doesn't help to acknowledge these things, it makes it more damning to know.

Let me give an example of the hysterics and unwellness that has become endemic in my mind. I met up with some friends two weeks ago to support their work. Never have I felt a stronger "I shouldn't be here" feeling than being in the auditorium of the ceremony. These two gorgeous talented people were willing to spend time with me, even if just for a moment. I felt wrong for having ever requesting their time or presence.

The problems with this mindset... where do I begin? What sticks out the most is that I'm just assuming nasty things about people that have done nothing to deserve being put in such an antagonizing position. The people I call my friends are good people, and I feel honored to have ever met them. I wish only good things for these people. I'll cherish the moments I've shared with them, even if I struggle with doubts regarding whether I should see them again.

I don't know. I've been keeping contact with Remas, so that is good. I'm working on new music, but I'm conflicted on the direction I should take. I also need more space to record vocals, so there's that.

I've gotten back in touch with Meredith about some new music. I'll be "on-call" for when she feels ready to deploy me as a feature. I've felt so embittered towards being an artist lately, I can't decide whether I should keep it up or not. I'm proud of my creations, and yet I feel burdened by them. I stand amongst my peers, and I cannot see any redeeming qualities about my body of work. In the presence of my peers, I see only my flaws.

I applied to 6 more jobs today. I don't even know why I do it. I already know they're gonna reject me. I'll apply to 150 jobs and get interviews for 2 of them, and I'll get neither of those two positions anyways. I have no money, I'm running on fumes. My family has me acting as their chauffeur/errand boy, and I'm not in a position to really complain about it anymore. It's really frustrating and degrading sometimes, but those are just feelings. Feelings don't really matter right now. I'm just whingeing now.

My parents aren't aligned in their stances on me right now, I don't know how to feel about it. My Dad misses me, my Mom is disappointed. My Mom tried to strong-arm me into enrolling at OCC, which I never actually agreed to do. There were follow-up steps I was supposed to do that I simply didn't do so that my fate wouldn't be sealed from cowardice. Dad misses making music with me, which I think is valid. I have mixed feelings about making music right now, and I found our previous collaborations to be a tad limiting. I feel like every time somebody reaches out to collaborate, their scope ends up being very narrow, and I don't get a lot of room breathe in the development. 

Yale is starting up their encampments again. If the SJP ever makes a move on putting them back up in Michigan, I'll jump on that. It's perverse, that I would hijack a movement intended to stand up for innocent lives being taken in a genocide, in order to have a place of isolation to lie in, just for a little while. 

Maybe I'm not a good person. For me, it's like a little preparation for the future. I've ideated a future where I live in my car, with the license plate removed. I've felt a warmth in the idea, that I could drive away to some kind of nowhere, and I could just lay in my car, and die. It seems like a fitting end.

4/20/25 - Resurrection Sunday

I've been trying to be better person in my own head. I'm trying to be grateful for the things I have, the blessings bestowed upon me.

It was a privilege to spend those hours with my family this holiday. There is so much love; there is so much right about seeing their smiling faces. I didn't want it to end. I think thats part of what's wrong with me.

It was a privilege to hear from my beloved today. I learn so much from hearing them talk. From our conversations, I gain clarity about everything. Even in difficult moments I feel comfort in their presence. It's been a rough week, but I wouldn't spend it with anyone else.

Except, I do think I've been craving some things I haven't earned, some things that maybe I shouldn't have right now.

I feel like I have anxious-attatchment problems, I think thats what the other zoomers are calling it online. There are thinkpieces I could write, but I'd rather not do that.

I don't know the inner lives of anyone I would like to think I hold dear. I know its probably a better thing to be less attached, to know less about my loved ones than would be uncouth. But I dunno. I feel ugly inside for wanting to feel connected.