In 1969, CREEM was launched in Detroit as a raw, unfiltered, unapologetic rock ‘n’ roll magazine, and ushered in a new era of raucous, participatory journalism.
For two decades, the mag broke barriers, rattled cages, and connected people to music in a way that has never been replicated.
After a cool 33-year hiatus, CREEM has once again risen from the ashes to move the focus of music journalism back where it belongs — on the fans. As much as we love musicians, we don’t care for the corporate music machine. We don’t work for the industry, we work for you. And when was the last time you had any fun reading about music?
Today’s CREEM is a small independent operation, led by JJ Kramer (son of Barry Kramer, the magazine’s original founder and publisher) and a handful of editors, contributors, and support staff working from all over the country.
Editor at Large
My Father Left CREEM To Me. I Was Four Years Old.
My father, Barry Kramer, was CREEM’s founder and publisher. In January 1981 (just as CREEM was entering its 12th year of print), he died of a drug overdose. He left CREEM to me. I was 4 years old.
My mom tried to keep the magazine alive until I would be old enough to take the helm. But unfortunately, MTV, videogames, and all the other shiny shit in the ’80s rendered magazines less attractive. CREEM ultimately folded and was sold to the highest bidder.
I'll never forget when my mom asked me if it would be okay to sell CREEM. I said, “I guess so, if you have to. But I'm gonna get it back one day.”
In the Beginning:
The publishing underground rises up and the world sees what happens when you give hippies electric typewriters and free records.
It was the dawn of a new era, and CREEM became the rock and roll bible of little booger-eating twerps everywhere.
The NEW WAVE:
After the departure of Bangs, Uhelszki, and Marsh, Susan Whitall keeps the underground punk rock flame burning bright.
THE CREEM ARCHIVE
Subscribers get access to every issue from 1969 to today.