April 10th, 2012
Get ready, it’s almost here. I’m working on finalizing the tracks and putting together the funds I need to replicate and market the new CD. Here are the details:
Zombie Sing-a-long: Whistler and the Children features 10 original songs about the undead and part 1 of Whistler and the Children, a story read and infused with sound effects and music.
November 11th, 2011
On the coat tails of his first zombie themed album, Zombie Sing-a-long, Craig Nybo stands poised to release a companion collection of songs and stories in the spirit of the undead.
Unlike Zombie Sing-a-long’s campfire guitar/singer approach, Craig has rolled more instrumentation and music genre into his second contribution. Pulling friends from Rustmonster–a band with which Craig regularly performs and records– Zombie Sing-a-long II promises twice the energy and twice the blood curdling fun.
In the spirit of collaboration with friends, which Craig greatly enjoys, the new album will feature Rick Nef (Saxophone), Larry Nybo (keys), and Nate Peck (poised to read Craig’s thriller, Breaker Z in 3 acts). Zombie Sing-a-long II will also feature songs with lyrics written by Patrick M. Tracy, Debbie Wheeler, and Mark Steiner.
Zombie Sing-a-long II Track List:
1. The Legend of Blue Lou
2. Blue Lou
3. Breaker Z: Act I
4. Put Another Zombie on the Fire
5. Give Blood
6. I Just Can’t Get Myself (to Shoot the One I Love)
7. Breaker Z: Act II
8. Zombulation
9. Skull Made of Steel (Lyrics by Debbie Wheeler)
10. Will Work for Food (Lyrics by Mark Steiner)
11. Blood Brothers (Lyrics by Patrick M. Tracy)
12. Breaker Z: Act III
13. Lullaby
Gangrene Productions hopes to have Zombie Sing-a-long II available in time for Christmas, 2011. For more information, visit www.craignybo.com or www.zombiesingalong.com.
October 13th, 2011
The zombies are back. I’ve decided to record a second album, and perhaps a third. The second album in the trilogy will be entitled, Zombie Scream-a-long. This time the album will feature songs with full instrumentation in a variety of styles, including blues, hard rock, funk, and folk. 6 songs are well on the way to completion. Here are the track titles so far.
I’m honored to have a few close friends show interest in the project. Other than some great lyrics by Debbie Wheeler, Patrick M. Tracy, Pat Murphy and other friends, a few members of Rustmonster, the band in which I play have volunteered some of their talents for the project. The 3 act story will be read by Nate Peck. The album will feature some sax work by Rick Nef and some guitar work by the impressively fast Rob Griffin. Thanks, guys; you ROCK!
The Legend of Blue Lou
Blue Lou
Throw Another Zombie on the Fire
Skull Made of Steel (Lyrics by Debbie Wheeler)
I Just Can’t Get Myself to Shoot the One I Love
Give Blood
Thanks for checking in and happy Halloween.
-Craig
July 6th, 2011
It’s Independence day, for the undead that is. There are no fireworks or parades for the living. The streets crawl with monsters, lurching all white eyed and gray skinned, stains of gore washed down their faces and clothing. I’ve had to camp in the outskirts for the past few nights. Sleep is a commodity that seems out of reach. I’ve stuck to wide-open areas, fields, copses of trees.
One would think that buildings might grant the best protection against the surprising number of zombies that wander the streets; that assessment is wrong. I’ve broken into a few abandoned houses only to find rooms thronged with undead. They tend to stay out of the sun like most animals, sticking to shade and well-ventilated buildings. Walking into an uncleared house most likely means walking into a fight.
Last night I heard them close by. I sleep lightly these days. They seem to have acute senses of smell. No matter what precautions I take before bedding down—setting camp in seclusion, foregoing a campfire–they seem to home in on me.
They have this kind of guttural rasp that chills me when I hear it. That rasp acted as my alarm clock this morning at about 2 am. I picked up my Glock, which I keep under a rumpled up jacket I use for a pillow, and rolled up onto my haunches. I must have blinked 20 times before the sleep left my eyes. I spotted 4 of the gangly things out in the shadows. I was lucky; they tend to be communal, walking in packs of 8 to 12. They don’t display much in the way of stealth. It’s their hunger that drives them. They simply smell fresh meat and lean in that direction until their feet start moving.
I only have a pistol and I’m no marksman so I had to wait until I could just about make out their expressions, cold, blank, lifeless. It’s one thing to drop one from a hundred yards when you can’t see into its eyes. It’s another to fire at them when you can recognize their features as human. I dropped the four of them with 10 bullets, cursing my waste of slugs. I only have so many rounds. I guess I’ll have to add a gun shop to my list of stops. I’d like a hunting rifle and maybe a few security cameras and motion sensors to take back to Warden.
My goal tomorrow is to hit the grocery store and supply up. I’ll try to find a phonebook and look up the location of the closest place that sells guns, maybe an outdoor supplier or a pawnshop. I’ll check in again if I’m still alive.
-Lance King, July 4th, Year 1
June 27th, 2011
These deadly creatures can turn me into one of them with one bite; but they are so slow that I could probably walk around them if I had to. I’ve never experienced fear so potent as I mounted the motorcycle I found and ground away from my school compound. I felt naked and vulnerable. As I hit the streets, not being an experienced cyclist, constantly maneuvering around stopped traffic has been a challenge. But I’m getting used to it.
The streets are jammed up with cars and trucks. Its like people just turned off their cars, got out and left. I’ve seen a few morbid sites, human remains behind the wheel, eyes gouged out, throats bitten into, parts of their bodies torn away for easy protein. I’m glad I wasn’t commuting home from work when the outbreak hit.
It still astounds me how quickly it all happened. The news, always fishing for new disasters to put on our televisions, jumped all over the outbreak. They called it a disease. But I’m not so sure it’s as simple as that. I can’t help but feel a sense of justice in the whole affair. I don’t know what we humans could possibly have done to reap such retaliation. But I sense that a higher, or lower, power has a hand in our circumstances. Anyways, I watched a news reporter who looked like a retired Chip and Dale dancer report a strange new outbreak, then flipped the channel to watch an episode of Man vs. Food. I didn’t believe any of it. I don’t think anyone did initially.
But within 24 hours everyone around me changed. They started shooting at each other, chewing on each other, starting each other’s homes and businesses on fire. It seems impossible now that such a condition can spread so rapidly. But here I am, weaving through traffic like a fly, cutting my way towards town for supplies. I suspect the zombies will get to me eventually, but I’m good at running. I learned that by being the scrawniest kid in school—braces, headgear, and glasses didn’t help much either in my standing against the house bully. I’m more likely to turn tail and run than to fight it out. That’s probably why I’m alive.
I’ve encountered a few of them along the way. They turn and stagger towards me when they spot me, but I’m too fast for them, especially on my bike. I’m getting close to town. I suspect I’ll be there within a couple of hours. With all the looting that went on after the outbreak, I’m hoping I can glean enough to keep me alive at least for a little while longer.
-Lance King, June 27, Year 1
Click here to read Lance’s next entry.
June 24th, 2011
I think the zombies around the school are getting smarter. It’s been a while since checking in. The school is huge, quiet, damp and gloomy. I’ve found a cool corner of the cafeteria where I’ve taken to sitting and doing nothing but staring at the opposite wall, sometimes for better than an hour. The world is shot to oblivion out there. I don’t know if there is anyone left alive. I’ve got to get out of here before they come in after me.
I found a motorcycle in the parking lot. I don’t know how much gas is in the tank, but with the guitar store 30 miles away. Cars jam the streets, stacked up along the lanes like a train of coffins. At least on a bike, I think I can weave around them and find a way through.
I’m going to leave the school tomorrow. I’m going to first try to make it to Phil Thomas’s place. The guy was a whack job, always stock piling guns and food, preaching about the end of the world and how the constitution was hanging by a thread. Now I’m not sure he was the idiot everyone thought he was. If he’s alive, I’ll try to pear up with him. If he’s dead, I’ll lift a couple of guns, some ammo, and be on my way.
After visiting Phil, I’m going to try a couple of grocery stores for supplies. I could use some dry goods, bandages, and—this might seem stupid—some deodorant; it’s the little things I miss most. I’m tired of smelling like a bag of moldy pears. I’ve got a pistol and a handful of bullets. I’ll have to make them last. Next time I check in, it should be from outside the school. Wish me luck.
-Lance King, June 24, Year 1
June 17th, 2011
Today’s live performance is a zombie recruitment song. Are you undead? Do you wander the streets looking for fresh meat? Are you looking to see what you can do to advance the impending zombie apocalypse? This song describes how you can sign up and become part of the movement.
Come March With Us
Music by Craig Nybo
Lyrics by Ben Fuller
June 14th, 2011
This poem was put to music and recorded on the Zombie Sing-a-long album, now available for purchase.
You were my pal,
We used to play down by the canal.
I’d find the sticks.
You’d fetch them and pick up ticks.
I’d tell the stories.
You’d share the adventure and the glories.
Love is a feeling,
We’ll always be together.
Love is a feeling,
That we shall.
There is no healing,
From you’re circumstances.
But my furry friend,
You’ll always be my pal.
Now you’re dead.
Maggots are crawling ‘round in your head.
You’re missing an eye.
The way you smell makes me cry.
I can see your lung.
Please… don’t touch me with your tongue.
Love is a feeling,
We’ll always be together.
Love is a feeling,
That we shall.
There is no healing,
From you’re circumstances.
But my furry friend,
You’ll always be my pal.
You were my pal,
We played as the hours went by.
We’d go for walks.
You’d listen to my inner talks.
We’d explore old roads.
Remember chasing those big toads?
Love is a feeling,
We’ll always be together.
Love is a feeling,
That we shall.
There is no healing,
From you’re circumstances.
But my furry friend,
You’ll always be my pal.
Now you’re dead.
I keep you locked in the shed.
You ate my friend Bob.
Now all I do is shutter and sob.
I used to scratch your ears.
Your exposed organs bring me to tears.
Love is a feeling,
We’ll always be together.
Love is a feeling,
That we shall.
There is no healing,
From you’re circumstances.
But my furry friend,
You’ll always be my pal.
You were my pal,
We used to play down by the canal.
I’d find the sticks.
You’d fetch them and pick up ticks.
I’d tell the stories.
You’d share the adventure and the glories.
June 13th, 2011
It’s finally here. Zombie Sing-a-long the album is now available for purchase from iTunes. Zombie Sing-a-long is a compilation of 10 songs about the undead meant to be sung around the campfire. The album features lyrics by Craig Nybo, Ben Fuller, Mark Steiner, Patrick Murphy, and Patrick M. Tracy, with music written and performed by Craig Nybo.
The album also tells the story of Mildred Beckett, an elderly woman with an electric wheelchair and a shotgun in a land of zombies. This story, read by the author in 3 acts, tracks Mildred’s harrowing journey through the streets of Milford after supplies to survive the zombie apocalypse.
June 7th, 2011
This poem was put to music and recorded as part of the Zombie Sing-a-long album.
We’re building an army, to march to the end of the world.
To the end of the world and all of the meat you can eat.
Stumbling on, and always on, and on and on and on,
To victory and all the meat you can eat.
Romero, Argento, and Kirkman are our generals.
They’ve mapped the road ahead for us to take.
So wake up, dig yourself out of your hole in the ground.
Join us as we march, stagger, shamble on and on.
We’re growing stronger every day.
Come and march with us.
It only takes one bite.
Unyielding forward every day.
Come and march with us.
Come and join the fight.
Our hearts don’t pump, our skin is drying, peeling right away.
Our uniforms are tatters, missing limbs, and dragging sinews.
Broken bones and bite marks on our necks display our ranks.
We’re an army, we’re a legion, we’re a hundreds-hungry crew.
There’s no training necessary, there ain’t no guns to carry.
Fine motor skills are not vital when all you need is meat.
Just fall in and plod in step, fall in and stumble on.
Just straggle on, shuffle on and on to the end of the world.
We’re growing stronger every day.
Come and march with us.
It only takes one bite.
Unyielding forward every day.
Come and march with us.
Come and join the fight.
Leave the malls, and underground, your shanties and your shacks.
Fall in and move forward without ever looking back.
It is an endless feast in our parade of dejected in the streets.
Leave your worries behind you and pick up some feet.
Recruit your loved ones, friends and family too.
Call them from their roosts and we will sate their hunger too.
Wake them up, dig them out of their holes in the ground.
They can join us as we march and stagger on and on and on.
We’re growing stronger every day.
We’re growing stronger every day.
Come and march with us.
It only takes one bite.
Unyielding forward every day.
Come and march with us.
Come and join the fight.