The Fatty Acids, from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, is a group of men who seem to have been made and are subsequently prepared for an aimless world. They remain full of caution and wariness, loving at arm's length, when others are so quick to get to it.
Lead singer-keyboardist Josh Evert, singer-guitarist Joel Van Haren, guitarist Matt Pappas, bassist Derek De Vinney, drummer Cole Quamme and trumpeter Kurt Raether put together a world of accents and minute details, taking hypothetical thoughts one step further and then putting them into verse. They find themselves thinking bigger picture thoughts, even as they apply to the phoniness of their surroundings, of the spineless, trigger-finger people that they're forced to offer drinks to from time-to-time.
They create multiple versions of themselves in the song, "Creature," a narrative that runs through a tempered existence, where a fill-in body can be used for the one that should be there, but would say all of the wrong things and behave too honestly for everyone's blood. This is the "creature." It's the them that they have concocted for the simple use of being there when you know that you'll only ruin the mood. The creature is there to ease the suffering that could happen on a long car ride - with conversations/arguments or with the music selection - or simply to help with general, every day stuff around the house, when unpleasant attitudes and black clouds could get in the way of comfort levels. They sing, "This is the creature we made…/Laughing at looks we would get/With true even tempers/It would sleep in our bed/And sit at our table content/It would never whine about stupid cassettes." The creature would show up around mom and dad and the cool and collected, not at all standoff-ish or brutish person standing before them would make them so fucking proud that their buttons would burst. It doesn't matter that it's a farce. Sometimes there's nothing better in the world than these creatures.