Sematary & Ghost Mountain: "There's no reason to burn bridges"

Death's Wagon EU tour artwork

As you plunge deeper into music nerdom, music that you simply like starts to lose its value. The new holy grail becomes finding music that surprises––or even challenges––you.

My first exposure to the artist Sematary––who founded the infamous underground hip hop collective Haunted Mound––certainly falls into the latter category. The track “Creepin’ Thru Da Woods” opens with the voice of a demented sports announcer: “D-D-D-DJ Sorrow, turn the FUCK UP!” Fuzzy electric guitar strums flood in, followed by the sounds of a blood curdling scream. Listeners are then hit with a wall of Salem-esque synths and the sound of Sematary’s droned out singing voice, and the hacking cough of someone on their deathbed.

While that describes just a few seconds of a single track on Rainbow Bridge 3 (2021), listening to the album from start to finish feels like having a million internet tabs open simultaneously. The production is bombarded with so many layers of sounds, textures, and samples that it induces a state of mental and physical overwhelm that, at its most extreme, is reminiscent of the few seconds of dizziness you feel right before you faint. Sematary stands between two labradors on the deep-fried album cover, looking like the spiritual descendant of a forgotten My Chemical Romance band member. He holds an upside down cross and spiked baseball bat in front of a gothic cathedral on fire, and a red sky filled with rainbows and lightning. After seeing this, what I actually thought of Sematary’s music felt far less relevant than my overwhelming desire to learn more about him.

Born Zane Steckler in the (particularly memorable) year 2000, the self-dubbed “Sematary Grave Man” was a young and precocious Soundcloud nerd who quickly realized that underground, internet-age hip hop had become somewhat formulaic: make exciting (and ideally also somewhat bizarre) new music prolifically, engineer a distinct and alluring persona, hone a unique visual identity with memorable tropes and iconography, and assemble a team of likeminded avengers for cross-pollination and collaboration. Sematary followed the recipe and built the Haunted Mound universe brick by brick, filling it with chainsaws, jack-o’-lanterns, and haunted trees. By fusing the realities of a rural American lifestyle with the tried-and-true tropes of rap, Sematary checked all of the established boxes––and birthed a lovable, half spooky, half goofy collective with a chronically online and deeply fascinated fanbase.

Rainbow Bridge 3

Cassidy George: You’ve described the location of your house (“the Slaughterhouse”) as remote. Do you ever get cabin fever?

Sematary: I’ve definitely lost my mind out here before and had to go somewhere else. For example, I went to LA to make the Bloody Angel mixtape because I’ve already made eight mixtapes here, so I was kind of tapped out on the vibe. I’m moving to upstate New York pretty soon. [The Slaughterhouse] served me well. I got a lot of work done here because that’s all there is to do. That’s why I set it up the way I did.

CG: Why upstate New York?

S: The city is an hour away by train so I can go there for work if I have to, but I’ll still be in the woods. It will be a cool adventure to be somewhere else, because I’ve lived [in California] all of my life.

CG: You’ve said that where you grew up is “kinda redneck”––but those connotations don’t come to mind when I think of California. What is a Californian redneck like?

S: I don’t think people ever really think about Northern California when they think of California. People don’t even think about Northern California in general. It’s nothing like Los Angeles––it’s just people living in the country. People have trucks and listen to the kind of music that people listen to in trucks!

CG: Do you also drive a truck?

S: I did, yeah. But I don’t have a vehicle right now. I was touring a lot and my truck had some issues. I also don’t really enjoy driving that much and haven’t been needing one. I just Doordash shit when I need it. I don’t want to see people, which is sort of the point.

CG: Have you always felt that way or do you feel that way now because you’re at risk of being recognized?

S: I never liked leaving the house to begin with, and now I have a good reason not to.

CG: You recently released the single “Wendigo,” which ventured into more rock territory. Your production is really evolving. Are you pulling from new references or just always seeking a new challenge?

S: I’ve always listened to Joy Division and New Order. The drums in “Wendigo” are kind of like that. I melt that with influence from Chief Keef, Yung Lean, and Black Kray, and combine it with trappier stuff and my weird, broken, deep voice. “Wendigo” is leaning more into a different direction. I really like guitar and don’t think there’s enough guitar music with trap drums. There are a ton of different ways to combine them and people haven’t really started to do it yet. I’m always trying out new combinations.

CG: The first album I ever heard of yours was Rainbow Bridge 3. It really shocked me, but in a good way.

S: On that record, I was trying to push everything as far as I possibly could because that’s what was interesting to me at the time. I tried to make every aspect of it as loud as possible, so the entire thing just sounds really...loud [laughs]. That’s what I was going for at least! I think it somehow worked, so thank you.

CG: Haunted Mound has a very strong visual identity. If you were to decide tomorrow that you’re more interested in butterflies than scarecrows and chainsaws, are you free to explore those things? Or do you feel forced to perpetuate something that is very clearly working?

S: Obviously it plays a role because I’m a musician and I have to pay the rent, but I would be betraying what my fans like about me if I made things that way. “Wendigo” was pretty different. I had no idea how it was going to be received, but I wanted to explore that sound more––so I did, and I will continue to. After that, I released “Heart So Pure,” which is really weird and stripped back––it’s grimy, even for me! If you were making music solely for money or clout, you probably wouldn’t release things like that.

I think people like experimentation, but this is just how it comes out [of me]. All of my experiments work together because I’m just making whatever I want to hear. That’s what keeps it genuine. People can detect that. Obviously, there’s pop music, which is made to be consumed and there’s a whole machine behind it to ensure it’s consumed and liked. We don’t do that. There are no further, hidden forces promoting or distributing us. We’ve built all of this off of muscle and sheer, underground force of will. People don’t talk about that enough––how much we’ve accomplished as just us. We release so much music, we tour internationally. We don’t pay for ads. We don’t pay for anyone to do anything like that for us. We make things, kids see them and talk about it, and it keeps going. Even the clothes I wear are becoming a whole thing on TikTok.

Haunted Mound x Affliction

CG: So it’s 100% organic growth.

S: It’s 100,000% organic and natural growth. Has anyone else done that and come as far as we have?

CG: I like to think that’s what happens when you make something that resonates with people who don’t often see things that either represent or excite them in more mainstream arenas.

S: But if you ever set out to do what you described, you fuck yourself over from the beginning. If you try to do that, you won’t. We’re grateful to be where we are and I’m proud of what we’ve built, but we aren’t deliberately trying to play into anything. It’s not forced––we’re just locked away in our rooms making this shit. Of course, we had to get a little bit lucky too.

CG: One of the reliable byproducts of making extreme music is creating extreme reactions. No one will ever hear your music and say that it’s “mid.”

S: If someone thinks that something I’ve made is whatever, then I’ve failed. It should either be love or hate. If you told me that you felt “in between” about any of my songs, I would be genuinely distraught.

CG: You just did a popular collaboration with the brand Affliction––are you self-taught in design, as you are in music?

S: I’m self-taught, but my style is very deliberate. When I send designs off to the people who make our merch, it always comes back with complaints. They ask for the files in higher resolution. I’m like: “No, that’s how it’s supposed to look. Please just print it!” They don’t understand it [laughs]. I know like ten tricks in Photoshop and that’s what I use, but I’m always trying to learn more. That’s what I spent all of my teenage years doing, just sitting at my computer looking up how to make shit.

CG: You’re in a leadership position in Haunted Mound. Does that come naturally to you?

S: I don’t feel like I have many peers who work in the same sound, so it’s been cool to find artists who do––and to try and build them up. I like having things to work on besides my own stuff. What is the point of all of this, if it’s just me?

CG: Are there any new artists that are not in Haunted Mound who you are excited about?

S: I wish! I’m always looking for cool new music, but I never hear it. I always find myself going back to old Gucci Mane shit. Yeat’s new music is cool. Otherwise, not much to report on that front. You can clearly see there aren’t many new people that I work with. I have to genuinely like an artist’s music––and who they are as a person––to work with them.

Ghost Mountain’s big comeback is coming out soon. I’ve been executive producing that and recording it with him here, and in another country house in upstate New York. It’s gonna be big.

"We've built all of this off of muscle and sheer, underground force of will."

Sematary and Ghost Mountain

There are certain privileges that come with being interested in music collectives. When artists are assembled like a cast of characters, their interactions, collaborations, and beef unfold like reality TV plotlines. They not only add layers of entertainment value, but also intrigue. Like any great rapper, the extremely outspoken Sematary (who has denounced the presence of the alt-right in his fanbase on numerous occasions) has feuds with other artists, some of which have unfolded like Shakespearean dramas.

The most discussed rift is with the aforementioned artist Ghost Mountain, a friend from middle school who became one of the first members of Haunted Mound. Ghost Mountain made appearances on well-loved releases––“Nevada,” Hundred Acre Wrist, the Rainbow Bridge albums––before leaving the group in 2021, to the great dismay of fans. The dominant narrative was that he left to attend film school, but in a later interview, Sematary indicated that there was more to the story. For years, questions about the status of their relationship and whether or not Ghost Mountain would ever return to Haunted Mound have appeared on YouTube comments sections and in Reddit threads.

This Fall, Ghost Mountain rose from the “dead” on social media, and announced his return to the collective with two new singles. Last week, he released the “big comeback” project that Sematary mentioned: a mixtape called October Country. Days after its release, I spoke to Ghost Mountain about his hiatus, the status of his friendship with Sematary, and what we can expect from him in the future.

October Country

Cassidy George: How has the response been to October Country so far? Are you overwhelmed?

Ghost Mountain: It has almost changed over the past five months and since it was originally made. There was a process of development where [Sematary] and I learned how to work together again. We have such different tastes, so when we balance my instincts––which lean towards the lighter side of things––with his ability to shift it into a totally different direction, we create some of the most interesting stuff. You have to find balance. Even in screenwriting, you learn how important it is to have opposites. Excitement comes from allowing opposites to interact.

CG: I know you attended film school, but was there a deeper reason for leaving the collective?

GM: It’s been almost five years since I left, which is a long time. Looking back, I think it really just comes down to me not knowing myself. I didn’t know what I truly wanted or how I wanted to express myself. Most artists discover those things by making their work. I never lost interest in making music, that was always the hook for me. I just wasn’t as interested in the social media and marketing aspects of things, which are required to make it an actual job.

In certain scenes, you’re expected to maintain a certain level of persona. Feeling pressure to present myself a certain way when I still didn’t really know myself just wasn’t working for me. I felt pressure to commit to something that I wasn’t sure about, and I didn’t feel I had secure ground to stand on. That can get you into some bad situations. I wasn’t able to communicate this effectively to Sematary. I don’t think anyone knows themselves as well as he does. I just needed space to figure things out. I’m happy it happened the way it did because we were able to be our own artists for a time.

CG: The idea of returning to something old is one of the major themes of October Country, right?

GM: One of the driving forces of this mixtape was the idea of getting older and coming back to something that is rooted in nostalgia––and the emotions that come up in that process. Haunted Mound is built on such a familiar world. I was excited by the idea of making something that can exist within the world that Sematary has created, but that focuses on what Ghost Mountain is––which isn’t what it used to be.

There is something about Haunted Mound that feels very cinematic. One of the things that led me to come back was finding the connections between filmmaking and making music. In a collective, these mini-narratives start to form within the work but also within the real world, among those who are involved. Music videos are a great way to connect those things with the storytelling in the music––and to explore the emotions that drive the creation of it.

CG: After listening to “Apollon,” I wondered if you studied Greek mythology, or at least Greek drama, in your film program.

GM: No, I didn’t, but I did read this book called The Secret History by Dona Tartt a few years ago. It’s a murder mystery but also indirectly suggests that there are forces outside of our control that are judging and determining things. That sent me down a rabbit hole of finding everything I could find that had that general idea. Sufjan Steven’s songwriting is also very inspiring to me. He also combines what happens in his real life with mythology and folklore, which I think can sensationalize some of the more normal things that happen to you. I’m not a religious person but I do understand how spirituality can play into narratives that we build around our lives. I didn’t study it but I do want to continue incorporating different mythologies and allusions to different allegories and archetypes in my music.

CG: What did the process of reconciliation look like between you and Sematary? Have you been mulling over this for a while?

GM: Pretty much this whole time. I’d say it started with Sematary and I getting on the same page again and becoming friends again. We’ve been friends since middle school. 2023 was the year that we reconnected and started hanging out again and sending music back and forth. There were no real plans for me to return, necessarily. It just happened naturally. In the time that I was gone, I had been making music on my own––just demos without any sort of expectation. “Apollon” was the first song I recorded on a Haunted Mound beat. Once I recorded that, it started to really make sense and feel right to return as Ghost Mountain. Sometimes things just fall into place. But it all really comes down to the fact that [Sematary] is one of my best friends and it was important to me to figure things out. There’s no reason to burn bridges that you really value.

CG: What were you two like in middle school?

GM: Honestly, not too different than we are now. We instantly connected over our music taste. The first conversation we ever had in middle school was about Soundcloud. Shout out to Sematary, he is one of the most genuine and kindest people that I know. We also went to middle school with my friend whose artist name is Eternity Chaos. They help me with creative direction, and with music videos and photos. They’re also one of the kindest and most genuine people that I know. They told me about something they read, which said something along the lines of: “An artist’s success depends on the obsession of the artist and the creation of something the culture needs.” I think that was very much the case here. Sematary filled a niche that didn’t exist before. It has been such an exciting process to see him create something out of nothing, and he deserves all the flowers for that.

It’s important to emphasize that all of this is a collaborative process. And the fact that I’m able to make things with people whom I’ve known for so long and so well in this creative capacity… that’s why I’m doing this. As corny as it sounds, it’s about the friends we make along the way.

CG: In an interview he said that if you were ever to come back, you need to commit to it full time. Was that the condition of your return? Were there other conditions?

GM: I can understand why that was a condition. I can’t make anything to the best of my ability if I’m not emotionally invested in it. I can’t make anything casually, I have to be all in. It’s a blessing and a curse––I work very slowly because of that. There were some conditions to my return, but things aren’t black and white. We realized that we both just want to make art that we’re proud of and that we stand behind.

CG: Did the fanbase's acknowledgement and appreciation for your role in Haunted Mound play any part in motivating you to rejoin the collective?

GM: Focusing on the reception of your art is almost never a good idea. Oscar18 told me that Sinead O’Connor once said in an interview that you should never read reviews, because if you believe the good ones, you will believe the bad ones even more. But in general, I think that mystery is a powerful thing. You know Earl Sweatshirt?

CG: Of course.

GM: That’s all I’ll say. I’m definitely not comparing myself to Earl Sweatshirt––he’s fucking GOATed. But I think when people don’t get closure, it can really haunt them.

Sematary and Ghost Mountain by Eternity Chaos