In July 1992, Welcome to Dead House, the first book in the original Goosebumps series, was published. The cover, featuring a dilapidated house with a glowing red interior, would go on to become one of 60 iconic illustrations created for the series by Tim Jacobus.

He recalls the days of traveling to book stores and signing copies for eager children; some shyly pressed against the arms of a parent, others loudly declaring their favorite character. These days, he not only meets a new generation of Goosebumps fans but is reacquainted with old ones.

“[Events at book stores] were all very nice, but you - the fan - were 10 years old,” he said. “When we talked, we didn’t really talk to each other… Now everybody’s grown up. I get some real heartfelt stories of what it was like to be 10 back then and how the Goosebumps books played a part of their life. The fact that it’s 2025 and we’re still talking about this, it’s amazing. It’s really amazing.”

He refers to himself as a latecomer to the comic convention circuit, first getting a taste of it at the New Jersey horror convention Chiller Theatre Expo. He was invited by horror punk band The Undead as they promoted their EP, Having An Undead Summer, with cover art designed by Jacobus. The Undead mentioned that they had room for him at their booth and suggested he tag along to sign copies of the album and his art. He agreed to attend and told his girlfriend as he was leaving the house, “If only people I know come up to the table, I’m never doing this again.”

He believed that being an illustrator was not the target audience for comic conventions, but was pleasantly surprised at the turnout. Despite the booth being in an area that could have hindered his appearance, he got to learn and revel in the subcultures that gather to celebrate one another. He has been attending conventions across the country ever since.

In the quiet moments of these weekends, Jacobus may take the opportunity to peruse the aisles in search for unique treasures to gift his loved ones. He also enjoys watching convention goers interact with their heroes.

“I like when I see people go out of their way to be extra cool to the fans,” he said. “Where I can tell they are turning up all the dials to make sure that person gets everything they want.”

For those who have yet to experience the wonder of a comic convention, especially amongst his friend group, Jacobus relates it to a Grateful Dead concert. For the longest time, he never attended a show because it wasn’t the type of music he listened to. Once he attended one, he understood that it is more than the music. Conventions may not be something they are necessarily interested in, or their idea of it doesn’t seem worthwhile, but the experience can be life-changing.

Photo courtesy of Amanda Valentine

Shayfer James knew he had a new album in him. The frozen oceanside of New Brunswick, Canada, is where he spent a month off the grid, compiling 10 tracks that would ultimately become his latest album, Summoning.

Being alone and being somewhere “beautifully cold” were his two requirements when it came to working on the album. Spending time in nature gave him the opportunity to reflect, and to be completely open with himself.

“I had a feeling the album would just come out if it wanted to, and my goal was to foster a space for it each day I was away,” he said.

As the album began to take shape, a blend of dark humor and vulnerability made its way to the surface. It wasn’t until the mixing phase, however, that James noticed a central theme had come through in each of the 10 songs. By recognizing a message of self-acceptance in those tracks, it made the order in which the songs would appear on the album all the more significant.

He did refine the humorous aspects of songs such as “Make a Wish” and “Hell of a Dream” by reworking some of the lyrics, but other than minor tweaks, the songs seemed to balance each other out once a track listing was finalized.

The closing track, “Winter Hymn”, was the most rewarding song to write. It is one of two tracks that delve into the concept of letting go, whether of a relationship or personal burdens, offering a calming epilogue of resilience and hope. For James, recording the lyrics felt like publishing a journal entry.

In addition to being his most vulnerable album to date, Summoning also showcases his evolution as a songwriter. Poetic narratives, playful melodies and cinematic arrangements bring each song to life.

“Songwriting has definitely become more organic for me,” he said. “Over the years it’s become a part of my background work and I think I’m kind of always in the process of writing in one way or another; like it’s involuntary until it isn’t.”

Photo courtesy of Sandra Lee Layden

As someone who has not only watched close family and friends struggle with mental illness, but also struggled with mental illness themselves, Excuses Excuses guitarist and vocalist Kyle C. Wilton understood the importance and challenges of creating a song that accurately represented those realities.

“Paralysis” took shape as those around Wilton dealt with the harsh realities of loss and self-understanding. His grandfather, coping with the loss of his grandmother while also beginning to develop memory issues, and his friend, navigating a new ADHD diagnosis. Watching it happen in real time stirred up a multitude of emotions, so he put pen to paper.

“Though both situations were quite different from one another, they both shared many debilitating qualities and the most noticeable to me was the feeling of mental paralysis they both experienced,” Wilton said. “For some reason noticing this similarity struck a chord within me, and I instantly knew that I needed to write a song about it to bring these emotions to light and to help encourage others to be their best selves and not let their illnesses define who they are as people.”

It was essential to create a song that was as authentic as possible. He relied on his own experiences in addition to his loved ones’ to give an accurate portrayal of how it affected them. Everyone’s situation is unique; which is why “Paralysis”, although based on certain situations, does not dive into specifics.

“I think it is extremely important to understand that mental battles can look very different from person to person and they should never be painted with the same brush,” Wilton said. “Since I wanted to write a song that wasn’t too specific or situational and really could speak to many peoples’ realities; I dove deep into my past experiences, discussed with peers what their experiences looked like and analyzed the commonalities that lie between them.”

Not only was it important for the lyrics to tell a story, but Excuses Excuses wanted the instruments to do the same. Wilton said that he felt it was important to try to capture the intensity that can come with mental illness - the high highs and the low lows. Instruments carry emotion just as powerfully as lyrics, and he was determined to make each individual emotion heard.

He used a more reserved guitar line in the verses than he normally would, wanting the focus to be on the honest and visual lyricism. The choruses brought a drastic change - a nod to the drastic change of emotions that can stem from mental illness - while the bridge brings encouragement to complement happier sounds. A few versions were created as they tried to figure out a structure that made the most sense, with the help of producer Brian Moncarz. The end goal was to further enhance the message of the song, and it worked in their favor.

Overall, the creation process of “Paralysis” was rewarding. Wilton enjoys writing songs steeped in honesty and this song was no exception.

“This was one of the first times I truly felt that I had accomplished that in a very profound sort of way,” he said. “I think taking the time to actually be critical about what I was writing in this song is really what helped it be so honest and powerful.”

“Paralysis” is meant to allow the listener to feel. Whatever that feeling may be, this is the song to embrace it. It is a reminder that there is always a path through the darkness, and that path will lead to better days.

Photo courtesy of Libby Grey

Chris Vos spent his childhood on a dairy farm just outside of Burlington, Wis., where riding a bike to a friend’s house was impossible and a grade school classroom could be filled with four children total. That feeling of solitude led him to his first guitar, and his first real promise to himself: go nowhere unless his guitar took him.

He ventured into live concerts as a teenager, his parents driving him upstate to Milwaukee before he got his driver’s license and purchased his grandfather’s 1977 Pontiac Bonneville. That vehicle took him to his first music festival which ultimately played an important role in his musical career.

Summerfest is recognized as “The World’s Largest Music Festival” by the Guinness World Records. For more than 50 years, local and nationally known musicians of various genres have graced their 12 stages every summer. The day that Vos and a friend attended, he remembers watching local Milwaukee acts that were rock stars to him. They stood at the Uline Warehouse stage as Citizen King performed, and Vos thought to himself, “I want to do what they’re doing.”

Soon enough, his guitar would take him to all 50 states as a member of The Record Company alongside bandmates Alex Stiff and Marc Cazorla.

“It’s one of those crazy things you think at 14 and for whatever reason I held to it,” Vos said. “There was a long time where that crazy little dream seemed like, ‘you should abandon this idea, this is terrible,’ but the guitar did eventually take me there. That’s why I’m proud of that.”

Summerfest is a festival The Record Company is familiar with, having played it multiple times. For Vos, it feels like a mix between a family reunion and a wedding reception; family, friends and fans all under the same roof to celebrate the same night. This year, their performance was extra special for Vos as they played the same stage - at roughly the same time slot - as Citizen King all those years ago.

The Record Company at Summerfest, 2025. View the full gallery here.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

I remember first seeing Bauhaus in the opening scenes of the iconic vampire film, The Hunger, starring Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie. Lead vocalist Peter Murphy appears in the opening scenes, lean frame silhouetted against a foggy backdrop. The song playing is “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, unarguably one of the most important and memorable goth songs of all time.

I lived in New York at the time, attending film school at NYU, where I studied experimental film and classics. Years later, I lived in Vancouver; I was back in my home country. I had lived all over the world at that point, and some of those travels had landed me in San Francisco for eight years or so. I still kept in touch with the best friends I had made there, including my friend, Zach. I also still received emails about events in San Francisco, which I’d casually perused to keep an eye on the pulse of local culture.

I remember when Bauhaus tickets went on sale. Being one of my favourite bands since college, Zach and I excitedly chatted about how for me it was a can’t-miss. We bought tickets for the show along with another friend, Evie. I usually flew to San Francisco around my birthday, May 19, to spend time with the family I still had in the area, and the show was two days after.

I usually wear black, and it was no exception on the day of the show. I batwinged my eyeliner with the best of them and wore my chunkiest, gothiest boots. I showed up to see my friends similarly attired, swimming in the sea of goths milling out front of the SF Masonic Auditorium, a historic venue near downtown San Francisco.

I was shocked when Peter Murphy took the stage. He was still so hot! Way different vibes than when he appeared in The Hunger, he had gone from hot boy twink to sexy leather daddy, but the appeal remained. He had a magnetic stage presence that pulled your eye directly to him, and his growling, thick, low voice was as good as ever.

I’ve always found goth crowds to be the friendliest, most inclusive people at shows and clubs. I felt perfectly content in that room full of black leather, vinyl and chains. Everyone had a smile on their face and several people in the crowd had their eyes closed, listening to the pulsing music. My eyes were dry until the first strains of “Lagartija Nick” floated above the crowd. I had listened to the song on repeat for so many years that I knew each note by heart. I whipped my head around and observed the crowd of black-clothed bodies dancing and singing along to the music. My eyes welled with tears as I thought to myself that rare thought: I belong.

At 1313 Mockingbird Lane, located in the fictional California city of Mockingbird Heights, a family of monsters captured America’s hearts in 70 family-friendly episodes of The Munsters. Despite its cancellation after only two seasons, syndication launched its generational success and brought forth additional series, films and a plethora of merchandise. Collectors of said merchandise are lucky enough to share their memorabilia through the comic convention circuit with none other than Eddie Munster himself, Butch Patrick.

Patrick recalls first attending San Diego Comic Con in the 1980s after yet another resurgence of the sitcom. He had released a song, “Whatever Happened to Eddie”, set to the tune of The Munsters theme and performed under the group name Eddie and the Monsters. It sparked a reconnection with Al Lewis, who played Grandpa, and Beverley Owen, who played Marilyn. They began appearing at conventions and found new ways to connect with fans.

“The Munsters, being family friendly, were one of the first crews to start doing the [convention] circuit,” he said. “It was evergreen, it was multi-generational… We were also monsters, so the monster community embraced us as well. It was unique.”

From the comic book series to plastic scale models, hand puppets to View-Master sets, The Munsters could be found on anything imaginable, notably featured in a massive collection acquired by television producer Kevin Burns. His collection also included set props, costumes, original art and more that were auctioned off after his passing.

Patrick admits to gifting more than collecting, saying that every night after filming he would bring home his prosthetic ears and give them away. He would also swipe Herman Munster’s head pieces before they were disposed of to share with others. While he originally did not keep a collection of his own, he has begun to preserve the treasures that he finds, especially at conventions.

The Munsters not only amassed a significant following, but became a show that allowed the viewer to escape to an alternative reality: one where being odd was celebrated. Patrick came to realize that for many people, The Munsters was more than a show to them. He vividly remembers meeting a young woman who was the receptionist at a local radio station that would be conducting an interview with him. She told him how much he meant to her, citing the show for being the reason she could find her way out of depressive times.

“After her, I heard other people mention the same thing,” he said. “That was their little secret show that put them in a better mood. It was important to me to be able to [hear] that. I had a lot of people who said as a kid they didn’t like their childhood, but they wish they could have been me, living in that house.”

Butch Patrick continues to honor the legacy of The Munsters with convention appearances, car shows, haunted garage sales and film screenings. 1313 Mockingbird Lane may be a fictional home, but the family that lived there continues to haunt the world of popular culture.

As the sister and first victim of slasher character Michael Myers, Judith Myers is briefly featured in the opening scene of Halloween before becoming nothing but a headstone. The actress who portrayed Judith, however, became a welcomed addition to the horror genre.

Sandy Johnson first experienced the horror fandom at Halloween 40, a convention hosted by HorrorHound Magazine celebrating the 40th anniversary of the film. Her agent knew that it would be the perfect introduction to the convention world and it did not disappoint.

Johnson’s husband, Dan, recalled seeing the line for the first time and not believing his eyes. He wanted to see how far the line actually went, and followed it all the way to the door of the show floor. When he came back and described the line, they found out that those were only the VIP ticketholders.

“There were so many people and they came from all over the world,” Johnson said. “It was an amazing experience. [There was] so much love.”

Throughout that weekend, and every convention since then, her favorite moments include seeing children dressed as Michael Myers. She is sure they probably do not want to be called cute in this scenario, but that is exactly what they are to her.

She has also had the privilege to experience fan moments of her own. While attending a convention, her booth was located directly across from television and film actor Robert Patrick. She absolutely adored his character of Cabe Gallo in the action drama series Scorpion and went right over to meet him.

“He did not have a choice in that matter,” Dan joked.

Halloween fans not only get to enjoy weekends meeting and greeting the film’s stars, but adding memorabilia to their collections. While Johnson does not collect anything horror related, she does understand the life of a collector. Around 15 years ago, she stumbled upon Chinese Mudmen figurines at an antique shop. She fell in love with their intricacy and continues to grow her collection today.

Popular culture influenced Giorgio A. Tsoukalos at an early age, as one of his cherished childhood memories was attending a Star Wars exhibit with his father in Germany in the 1980s. He would later learn that the replicas of costumes and sets were not actually used in the films, but it was a small introduction into the world of conventions.

When the film magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland invited Tsoukalos to their booth at San Diego Comic Con in the 2010s, his television series Ancient Aliens had already amassed a significant following in the few years it had been on the air. It was his first real taste of meeting fans of the show in a controlled setting and made for a wonderful first convention experience.

Since then, Tsoukalos has appeared at numerous conventions and given fans behind-the-scenes accounts of his career as a sports promoter, television host and magazine publisher. The chance to interact with his audience is something that still astonishes him to this day, especially when he can immediately tell they are fans of Ancient Aliens.

“I can’t tell you how many times people at conventions like this have come up dressed as me,” he said. “That’s still to this day very surreal, very awesome. If you would have told me that 15 years ago, ‘one day they’re going to dress up as you as a cosplay’ I’d be like, ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. I love my fans. I really think that I’ve got the best fans in the world. What more can I ask for?”

Attending conventions also gives him the opportunity to do two of his favorite things: reunite with old friends and add to his various collections. Tsoukalos said that he is a “collector of creatures” and loves searching for masks or busts to add to his treasure trove.

“If I see something like that, chances are I’m not going home empty-handed,” he said.

At Nightmare Weekend Chicago, Tsoukalos shared space with actor Butch Patrick, best known for his role as Eddie Munster on The Munsters. Tsoukalos and Patrick have known each other for more than a decade, having met through mutual friend Kevin Burns. Burns, who produced Ancient Aliens until his death in 2020, was a massive collector of The Munsters merchandise and struck up a friendship with Patrick while growing his collection. Getting to see each other throughout the weekend was just as special as seeing his fans.

From aliens to monsters and everything in between, Giorgio A. Tsoukalos can trace his interests back as far as he can remember. Getting to share those interests at conventions, with people equally as interested, can easily be considered as the best part of the job.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

The Newport Music Hall in the mid-90s was something else. Located on the Ohio State University campus in Columbus, it was, and still is, a staple venue for any national touring band on its way up, and it’s where I saw the majority of shows in my formative years.

My older brothers and I practically lived there and we saw some life changers - Bad Religion on their Stranger than Fiction tour (super rough pit), The Reverend Horton Heat every six months (like clockwork), the Foo Fighters on their first tour when people were just yelling at Dave Grohl to play Nirvana songs (he did NOT take it in stride), but there’s one that stands out above all; and that would be Tool.

Maynard and the fellas were touring the Ænima album and had not yet graduated to arenas, so in November of 1996 they rolled through town and absolutely blew the doors off the place. I think the only other show I saw that was louder was the Deftones, and I still maintain my cumulative hearing loss stems from that one.

Regardless, it was a good time to be 16 years old and angsty. Grungy grunge was in full swing, the industrial scene was freaky (incidentally, Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral tour was my first show ever), and my brothers and I were huge fans of Tool but hadn’t seen them live yet. Now I had made the comment earlier that they hadn’t graduated to arenas, but they certainly already had that ‘arena’ sound and the Newport’s capacity is only 1,700. They were loud and intense and I think Maynard had fake boobs on. The crowd was ravenous.

I’m only three months into being 16, I’m 5’6” on a good day and 150 pounds that’s including my tough-guy chain wallet, and I’m smack dab in the middle of THE most aggressive pit that’s chock-full of ACTUAL tough guys. My one brother, Mick, loved a good pit, but he’s a bigger dude. I was more of a ‘pit adjacent’ guy and given my, ahem, petite carriage, I became a natural crowd surfer. I wasn’t going to dare try it at this show though as it was way too dangerous. I thought, “I’ll hang out at the back, still on the floor, but out of harm’s way.” Yeah well, the impetuousness of youth got me, and I flung myself into the middle of the scrum. It did not work out well.

I held my own for a couple songs but when “Hooker with a Penis” (yup) started, it happened… BAM! Knocked unconscious. Apparently, as I was being tossed back and forth like a voodoo doll in a washing machine, my head came into direct contact with the windmilling combat boot of a crowd surfer. All this was told to me by the incredibly nice, baldheaded shitkicker that pulled me off the ground and got me to safety. Well, ‘incredibly’ nice is a stretch; I think he said something like, “Stay off the floor you dumb fuck!”

There I was, sitting up against the wall on the side of the club by the door that lets you outside to smoke, bleeding, ears ringing, head exploding, “Undertow” playing on amps turned up to 11, no clue where my brothers are, and suddenly the reality of how bad it could have been starts to set in. ‘I could have been stomped to death’ I thought.

I would like to say I shook the pain off like old Chucky Bronson, but a tear or three was shed that night. Partly because of the pain, but mostly it was because I was freaked the fuck out. And the soundtrack to this lunacy was Tool, so you know, that didn’t help.

Eventually I found Mick and our other brother Jeff, dusted myself off for the encore and lived to get my ass kicked at other Newport concerts (like the aforementioned Bad Religion show). So sorry, bald guy who arguably saved my life that wild November night thirty years ago. I probably should have taken your advice, but dang it, I can’t live without passion.