Courtesy Dan Carlson
Audio By Carbonatix
Deep Wells
Creek overflows with catharsis from the stage and on its latest album.
By Justin Criado
Jared Barnes is a proud practitioner of primal scream therapy, even if he doesn’t exactly ascribe to that specific branch of mental hygiene. For the 28-year-old audio engineer, there’s no need to overexplain; it’s more about the result and what hollering, especially into a microphone on stage, does for him.
“For me, it feels good to yell. It feels good to get things off my chest. It feels good to express all that,” he says.
Scream therapy, also known as primal therapy, was first introduced by American psychologist Arthur Janov in the 1960s, specifically as a way to combat neurosis by reliving past traumas and properly processing such incidents through concerted rage. John Lennon and Yoko Ono were among some of Janov’s earliest patients, and they said the practice influenced their 1970 album, John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band – Lennon’s first record after the Beatles split. In the ’80s, Tears for Fears and Primal Scream (obviously) were big fans of this school of thought, too.
When Barnes started the solo project Creek in 2015, he already had his hands full with a more established band, Wild Trees. Nonetheless, he felt the need for another creative release that aligned more with his alt-rock vision.
“Every time I wanted to write a slow, reverb-y thing, the other guys in that band were like, ‘No, we don’t want to do that,’ so I was like, ‘Well, fine, I’ll just do it by myself,'” he says with a laugh.
At that time, Creek was more of an insular endeavor. Barnes was content with writing every word, typically drawn from whatever he was going through, as well as composing and playing every part and instrument. And if he didn’t know exactly how to musically execute that, he’d recruit a roommate or friend to help out. “I didn’t know how to play drums at the time, but I just wrote all the songs by myself,” Barnes recalls.
He eventually taught himself how to handle a kit and even released a Creek EP, Thirteen Hundred, in 2017. But Creek wasn’t necessarily meant to morph into his primary band – as it has over the past decade. Danny Henderson, who previously booked Wild Trees in Laramie, Wyoming, and eventually worked with Barnes at Guitar Center, became the first official recruit eight years ago, after the two went to a local house show.
“We were just outside smoking cigarettes, and he was like, ‘Would you be down if I played guitar in this band that you’re kind of doing?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, of course. Let’s fucking do it.’ We got it together and kept going from there,” Barnes recalls.
Since then, Henderson and Barnes have steadily built Creek into a force within Denver’s alternative scene, enlisting drummer Dan Carlson and guitarist Brandon Neil via a call on Instagram. Following Creek’s debut album, Never Better, in 2020, the band cranked out a string of singles and another EP, Past Lives, in 2023, leading up to a more polished sophomore LP, Shortsighted, in 2024 – all while gigging as much as possible. And along the way, Barnes founded Swadley Studios, which recorded the last two Creek releases.
Creek’s next show is an opening slot for Slow Joy and NVM on Saturday, March 22, at Lost Lake Lounge. It will be Barnes and Henderson’s sixtieth concert as a duo. “We’ve put some miles on Creek together, which has been a lot of fun,” explains Henderson, who says that Barnes has a way of creating a “shower of reverb,” though he admits he needs to see the songs’ verses before he fully understands them. “Once I read the lyrics, I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s what he’s saying,'” Henderson says.
Barnes isn’t one to lyrically pinpoint particular episodes or events; he instead pulls from a well of deep-seated existentialism. “I grapple with that daily,” he says. “The biggest thing has always been death and themes of loss in general. I do a lot of writing that’s not necessarily centered on a specific event or specific person. A lot of times, it will just be around a general sense of a feeling.”
For example, on the track “Alone” from Shortsighted, Barnes muses: “What is it that plagues my mind, interrupted and disrupted, but I take it in stride.” The album is full of similar open-ended questions and candid confessions of immature missteps, making for a brutally honest coming-of-age tale.
Musically, Creek continues to live comfortably between Midwest emo and grungegaze – a sound the band likes to call “emo-gaz,” as it’s strikingly atmospheric and evocative, both perfect catalysts for setting a somber vibe.
Carlson, who joined the act in 2023 after moving to Denver from Madison, Wisconsin, tries to give Barnes “a mood of feeling to work off of,” he says. “I think we’re pretty well aligned there. A lot of it ends up being that same palette of feelings that he can then use to make a little more coherent of a picture and nail down a general unease in the sound down to something more specific and tangible.”
Barnes agrees: “We’re definitely kindred spirits. I think we’re on the same page.”
Even though his lyrics are often nostalgic, Barnes prefers to look ahead over dwelling on the past. And the outlook now is that Creek is here to stay. Most recently, the four-piece put out a collaborative split album, New Year Split 2025, with local acts Overhang and Summer of Peril. There are also plans for a summer East Coast run after Creek plays Emo Fest: Spin Kicks & Crying Fits Vol. 2 on Saturday, April 26, at the Black Buzzard. Seattle emo outfit Sinking Season and Boise post-hardcore group winterforever, as well as local alt-acts Talking Point, Origami Summer, Endear and EDITH, are also on that bill.
“We’ve been taking things a little more seriously recently,” Barnes says, crediting Carlson and Henderson for being reliable taskmaster regarding gigs.
As for making music, he’s excited to talk about Creek’s upcoming split with Nebraska post-metal practitioners Ghostlike, particularly their unreleased song, “See Through.” While the writing process is much more collaborative these days, this idea came out of nowhere. “This one was one of those weird ones where it just kind of happened,” Barnes says. “I sat down and wrote it in a day by myself. Then Dan came over and recorded drums. It was quick, like, ‘Oh, wow, this song came together really easily, and it sounds cool.'”
Fans will have to wait to hear that as well as another new song; the release date is TBD. But Barnes doesn’t hesitate to dive a little deeper into the meaning behind it. “‘See Through’ is specifically about grappling with seeing the end of something good and not really being able to do anything about it,” he notes. “That was a big one for this one. The impending end is really terrifying and super frustrating to deal with.”
Almost everyone can relate to that, whether they’re thinking about a relationship slowly disintegrating against their best efforts or accepting the fact that it’s time to turn the page on one of life’s many chapters. “I write a lot of songs about sad and difficult things that are tough to handle,” Barnes says.
But sharing that with an audience through Creek allows for a collective – almost primal – release, even if he’s the only one comfortable enough to scream about certain topics.
“Creek has always been an outlet for me to express feelings and ideas that I don’t necessarily know how to grapple with. It has always been a cathartic outlet for me,” Barnes concludes. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted anybody else to take from it is the same sense of that healing process.”
Creek, with Slow Joy and NVM, Saturday, March 22, Lost Lake Lounge, 3602 East Colfax Avenue; tickets are $22-$25.
