Tag Archives: Music

Horror Music

Posted on by necromoonyeti

I suppose if I asked most people what music they identified with horror, John Carpenter’s “Halloween Theme” and Mike Oldfield’s “Tubular Bells” (The Exorcist) would come up first. After that, you’d get a lot of Rob Zombie and Glenn Danzig. So right off the bat, you’re looking at an enormous variety of sounds and styles connected mainly by association. While John Carpenter’s work was intentionally composed for the film in which it appeared, “Tubular Bells” was originally a 50 minute progressive rock opus that was anything but sinister or foreboding in its full form. Misfits was a goth punk band that happened to favor horror themes. White Zombie’s horror imagery was more a matter of crudeness and vulgarity in the spirit of GWAR; their sound was a frontrunner in the emergence of industrial groove metal, and the greatest “horror” associated with Rob was the countless terrible nu metal spinoffs. A couple of “top ten horror songs” lists I stumbled upon even list Bobby Boris Pickett’s “Monster Mash” and Richard O’Brien’s “Time Warp”. I mean, “Monster Mash” is a fun Halloween song, sure, but horror? Really? And the Rocky Horror Picture Show does make me want to vomit, but we have to draw the line somewhere.

Suffice to say, “horror” music is not a genre at all. Simply associating a song with a scene or theme is enough to relate them; Huey Lewis and the News will probably make me smile and think of Christian Bale chopping people to bits in his apartment for the rest of my life. But there are definitely certain musical attributes that conjure in us a less glitzy feeling of dread than Hellbilly Deluxe. That skittering cockroach beat in the background of Halloween is completely unnerving; Carnival music is way creepier than Stephen King’s It; Black Sabbath’s appreciation for diabolus in musica virtually invented heavy metal; and it took a firm dose of the blues in 1988 for Danzig to capture a sense of the sinister that Misfits could never convey.

I don’t believe that any particular musical formula is the coalescence of evil. The music we find most haunting is derived from association too, but it connects in more subtle ways than say, the fact that a particular song appears in a horror film or mentions witches in the chorus. The real deal distorts what comforts us, denies our sense of order, and pries upon our innocence. Through a musical medium as through any other, horror focuses on shattering the lens through which we perceive reality as an ordered, logical construct. It reminds us of the real nightmares in life while nullifying our means to counteract them. It takes us to the world of the child, where emotional extremes enhance our senses of comfort and terror alike.

The carnival tune and music box are prime targets, conjuring in our minds a time when fear was more potent. The brief piano loop, the simple hum, the monotone drone–these bring us to solitude and isolation through minimalism. Effective horror themes offer no comforting symphony or rock ensemble to encase us in a nuanced world. They surround us with something singular and far from warm, or with nothing at all. The wind chimes warn of a storm; when none is coming, the darkness is all the more unnatural. The cathedral bell, a sign of fellowship on a Sunday morning, also tolls for death. A twitch, a buzz, a repeated knocking, a bit of static–things that would otherwise annoy us–exploit the close connection between discomfort and tension.

Or else we can completely overwhelm the senses with noise that strips away the familiarity which typically diminishes extreme music’s effect, leaving us a nervous wreck. When Blut Aus Nord chose to employ programmed, industrial blast beats in their 777 trilogy, they effectively eliminated the one element of the music that would have sounded too familiar to disturb. Instead, the epileptic guitar finds companionship in a persistent, unnatural clatter designed to place us permanently on edge.

Other bands have found other means to the same end. Peste Noire’s unique “black ‘n’ roll” sound enlivens a standard formula for “evil” music with a pep and a grin, giving the brutalizer a human face in the spirit of medieval sadism. Sunn O))) are inclined to drone on for ages, developing a false sense of comfort before infusing their deep buzz with a caterwaul of shrill pitches and clattering chimes. (I actually had a guy start freaking out on me at work one day when “Cry For The Weeper”, which he didn’t even notice playing, hit the 3:55 mark.)

And lastly, we can’t forget the power of lyrics to render a song gruesome. The stereotypical lines of a black metal song–nonsense about necromoonyetis and an appeal to Satanism far less disturbing than the average Christian commentator on Fox News–are pure cheese, and they entertain us in a manner similar to your typical zombie flick. But when you first heard Smashing Pumpkin’s “x.y.u.”, you probably got a feeling more akin to Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer.

Horror in lyrics is something a bit the opposite of horror in sound; it strikes us most deeply when we can be convinced that there is absolutely nothing supernatural about it. There are certainly a few exceptions–Townes Van Zandt’s tall tale in “Our Mother the Mountain” chills me to the bone–but generally speaking, the real atrocities committed throughout human history far exceed the limits of our imaginations. Vlad Tepes was worse than any vampire, and from Elizabeth Bathory and Ariel Castro to Hernando Cortes and Adolf Hitler, we are flooded by examples of direct personal cruelty and dehumanized mass slaughter. When a song manages to make us think of these individuals and events beyond the safety blanket of historical narrative, an authentic feeling or horror is hard to deny.

Ten Years #23: The Tossers

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
23. The Tossers (1,222 plays)
Top track (57 plays): The Crock of Gold, from The Valley of the Shadow of Death (2005)

My introduction to Irish punk was about as random as they come. I had “Come On Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners stuck in my head, and I could not for the life of me remember what it was called or who wrote it. I made a forum post asking “who wrote that song that goes too-ra-loo-rai-a?”, and someone–much to my persistent bewilderment today–responded with “Aye Sir” by The Tossers. It was through this cluttered back door that I first came to discover legends like The Pogues, The Dubliners, Dropkick Murphys, and Flogging Molly, and I owe a world of thanks to that forgotten forum poster for it.

A lot of my love for The Tossers is definitely nostalgia, because they introduced me to a world of music that has influenced my life tremendously ever since. But more significantly, I love The Tossers because they manifest an earthy side of Irish folk that bigger and brighter rock stars can never, by consequence of their fame, present quite so intimately. The drunken camaraderie, the sense of belonging, the singing and the dancing, all of the glory that one of the most persistently vibrant folk traditions in the world can bring–you certainly feel them all at a Dropkick concert, but with The Tossers it comes before an audience of a few hundred, most of whom know the songs by heart. They’re probably the best punk-minded Irish folk band drifting around America to have never made it big, and their live show is a blast every time.

Ten Years #24: Radiohead

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
24. Radiohead (1,176 plays)
Top track (35 plays): Knives Out, from Amnesiac (2001)

It should come as no surprise that Radiohead made it onto my decade top 50 chart somewhere. The dominant album on that list might be a little less common: Amnesiac (2001) took the title with a modest margin over Hail to the Thief (2003) and OK Computer (1997). This is no accident–no single weekend of Winamp stuck on repeat. Since pretty much the week it was released, Amnesiac has been my favorite Radiohead album.

It would be a bit silly to argue that Amnesiac is their best. Just as Radiohead are too unique to really be compared to any other band, pretty much every album they’ve released since The Bends (1995) has resided in a world of its own. OK Computer certainly offers the broadest appeal, and Kid A (2000) seems to get the most praise from the more eclectic, aesthetically minded fans, but it’s the consistent vibe of Amnesiac that grabs me most. From start to finish, it glides on a sea of glass beneath an inebriated night sky. While the individual tracks are stellar at every turn, the sum of its parts come nowhere near the whole, and I can rarely bring myself to listen to them out of their intended order. There’s some calming chill that sets across the whole 45 minutes, and a spirit of motion that I did not experience again until “Bloom” (The King of Limbs, 2011).

That being said, of course OK Computer and Hail to the Thief are unrivaled masterpieces, of course In Rainbows (2007) and The King of Limbs are worlds above the average for a band late in their career, and of course The Bends redefined the limits of rock in its day. The only album in their discography that you might justifiably find some fault with is Pablo Honey (1993), and that’s only when you measure it by the standard Radiohead set and maintained for the two decades to follow. In the most general sense, weighing all factors evenly, they might rightly be regarded as the greatest band to ever exist. That’s not lofty praise; it’s an opinion that a good many experienced music critics are prepared to agree with. But to the question of how Radiohead became my 24th most listened to band of the past 10 years, and not say, my 50th, I point without hesitation to Amnesiac.

Ten Years #25: Cracker

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
25. Cracker (1,162 plays)
Top track (52 plays): Big Dipper, from The Golden Age (1996)
Featured track: One Fine Day live, originally from Forever (2002)

Most people my age have heard Cracker, but they might not remember the name. You know, Cracker, that two-hit wonder from the early 90s that wrote “Low” and “Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)”. Like most of you, I never bothered actually picking up a Cracker album while they were popular. They only stumbled into my discography through an impulse buy when I saw their first Best Of compilation, Garage D’Or (2000), near a checkout register in Best Buy. I thought, “Oh, greatest hits? I thought they only had two,” and I picked it up to see what I was missing. For a while afterwards I was convinced that they must have had a dozen radio singles that I was just a little too young to remember, but the truth of it sank in over time: One of the greatest rock bands of my generation had slipped through the cracks.

Well, my obsession with Cracker ran for a year or two before I eventually forgot about them, and they might have been lost to me forever if I hadn’t happened to find myself in San Antonio, Texas, with a car for the first time in two years and nothing better to do with it. I did a last.fm search on upcoming gigs in Austin, saw Cracker were playing that evening, and took off. Any band would have sufficed, but these guys blew me away. Their performance defied anything you might expect out of aging rock stars. With an intimate connection to the music and the audience, it was as if they had just recorded the material yesterday; They were overlooked American legends in their prime playing in a venue small enough to make eye contact. To top it off, they even offered a tip of the hat to a semi-local country legend. (They covered Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mother”.) I’ve gone out of my way to catch Cracker live every time they’ve played near me since, and I’m never disappointed.

I will never know why Cracker were not as successful as Pearl Jam or Tom Petty or any of the other rock legends I grew up with, because I honestly think they’re on par. David Lowery’s lyrical whit and sardonic vocals pair up perfectly with Johnny Hickman’s tasteful blues rock guitar to create one of the most readily identifiable and creative duos in the business.

Ten Years #26: Summoning

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
26. Summoning (1,154 plays)
Top track (86 plays): Menegroth, from Oath Bound (2006)
Featured track: Ashen Cold, from Let Mortal Heroes Sing Your Fame (2001)

Blind Guardian’s Nightfall in Middle-Earth might be the most inspired musical retelling of any of J.R.R. Tolkien’s works to date, but no band has crafted an atmospheric sound to capture that world quite so convincingly as Summoning. With a sound that would just as soon excite fans of video game music or “new age” artists like David Arkenstone as their orginal black metal fan base, Summoning have forged a truly unique musical path. While their first studio album, Lugburz (1995), was relatively standard for the synth-laden black metal of its day, they nearly finalized the sound that made them famous on Minas Morgul, released later that same year. Since then, the only perceptible change has been a slow decline in the use of tremolo guitar; the quality of the songwriting and the imaginative world it invokes has remained pretty consistently superb.

For me at least, Summoning and Tolkien’s fantasy world have become nearly inseparable. The echoing, tribal drums paint vast landscapes cast dark by distorted vocals and guitar. The synth speckles the scene in a light that, never breaching the world of full orchestration, retains a fantasy aspect through its unnatural sound. The lyrics enliven the music with the spirit of an epic tale–whether it be the dramatic narrated loop on on “South Away”–“By the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!”–the water god Ulmo’s bold proclamations on “Farewell”–Who can tell you the age of the moon? But I can! Who can call the fish from the depths of the sea? Yes, I can! Who can change the shapes of the hills and the headlands? I can!–or the spirit of perseverance on the track here featured–“Though his body is not tall and his courage seems small, his fame will take long to fade.”

Tolkien’s greatest achievement was to craft a fantasy world so vast that imaginative minds ever since have managed to forge a place within it. Summoning have done so with a level of excellence nearly unrivaled, and they continue to today. There might have been a seven year gap between Oath Bound (2006) and Old Mornings Dawn (2013), but their new release is in every way on par with the rest. It’s a bit of a wonder that they’re only ranked 26th on my decade-spanning last.fm charts. I suspect that, another ten years from now, they’ll be much nearer the top, because their music takes me to a place that is eternal.

Ten Years #28: Týr

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
28. Týr (1,101 plays)
Top track (75 plays): Hail to the Hammer, from various albums
Featured track: Regin Smiður, from Eric the Red (2003)

Viking metal, pagan metal, folk metal, call it what you will–it’s pretty impressive that Týr have managed to capture an extraordinary vision of the Norse past with absolutely no traditional instrumentation or synth choruses to speak of save the human voice. Since their second album, Eric the Red, Týr have revolved around Heri Joensen’s breathtaking vocals. Their unique brand of progressive rock instrumentation is heavy enough to blast out your stereo and yet entirely subservient to the driving vocal anthems. I would be very interested to gain a better understanding of where Joensen’s dedication to tradition gives way to his unique creativity as one of the most innovative musicians making music today–of the extent to which his vocals are derived from Faroese tradition. With an educational background in both vocals and Indo-European linguistics, he probably has a better idea than most of how traditional Germanic and Norse singing must have sounded, and I feel a sense of solidarity between the band and other students of folk vocalization such as Latvia’s Skyforger. At the same time, I gather that Norse musical tradition is a far more elusive beast than its eastern counterparts.

As a modern band, Týr seem to me the most central act of the whole “viking metal” scene. The term is a bit of a ruse, in so far as it lacks both the stylistic conformity of most genre labels and the acknowledged generality of catch-alls like “folk metal”. Whether a band might garner the label depends upon so many nuance factors that it is much easier to agree upon which acts ought to receive it than to discuss why. Attempts to properly define it are few and far between. The Wikipedia article on “viking metal”, for instance, is largely substantiated by a thesis on folk metal submitted by Aaron Patrick Mulvany in 2000. That is only 12 years removed from Bathory’s Blood Fire Death–now a quarter of a century behind us–and two years prior to one of the most significant bands of the “genre”‘s debut. With the utmost respect for anyone who acknowledges folk metal as a legitimate subject for scholarship (I’m looking forward to reading Mulvany’s thesis, available online, over the next few days), I would ascribe to him the gift of prophecy were it not hopelessly dated. But while I would say that Bathory was fundamentally black metal, Amon Amarth death metal at their core, Falkenbach hopelessly under-appreciated, and Thyrfing given to fantasy, the inherent catch-all-ism of progressive metal (not the Dream Theater worship standardized derivative) lends to Týr a sense of authentic originality. As a metal act they do their own thing, and that makes their tradition-influenced vocals and lyrics emerge with no strings attached.

Týr’s music is neither too confrontational nor too fanciful to be generally accessible. They are, in the very least, the first band I would recommend to an inexperienced listener who asked me what specifically Norse-derived folk metal sounded like. Their sound bleeds an authentic scholarly interest in Norse culture and plugs the myriad gaps with progressive rock that is both down to earth and impressively original. You’ll find no fallback to Tolkien here (album cover aside), and no hell-raising or Transylvanian hunger either; it’s something a bit more Apollonian, and exciting all the same. If I could pick any one artist to spend an evening in a pub with, Heri Joensen may very well top my list.

Ten Years #29: Therion

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
39. Therion (1,059 plays)
Top track (81 plays): The Siren of the Woods, from Theli (1997)
Featured track: Vanaheim, from Secret of the Runes (2001)

Therion is an interesting animal in the world of metal. In a lot of ways, Christofer Johnsson’s brainchild derives from forms of music that don’t much suit me. The harsher vocals are firmly rooted in his death metal origins, the guitar riffs and drumming waver between metal and a softer “hard rock” sound, and 80s-inspired over the top solos flourish throughout the discography. Yet all of these typical turn-offs for me shake their negative connotations and merge rather seamlessly with Johnsson’s greater operatic vision. For the majority of Therion’s 26 year history, Johnsson has been forging his own unique path through the world of theatrical rock by infusing fairly typical stylistic norms with outstanding song writing. I can’t help but fear at times that Therion may descend to the quality of another boring Trans-Siberian Orchestra, but they never do. Across 15 studio albums, Johnsson continually manages to find compelling new ways to make the peculiar marriage of rock and opera somehow work.

I’ll admit to not being a huge Therion fan. The vast majority of the 1000+ listens that render them my 29th most-listened-to band of the past decade came in 2003 and 2004, when the individual elements of their sound were still a bit novel to me. I never did get around to picking up Sitra Ahra or Les Fleurs du Mal. But I’ve heard enough to confidently state that Johnsson is one of the finest song-writers to seriously approach the possibilities of combining rock with classical styles. Secret of the Runes is my personal favorite album in his discography. There, I think Johnsson really let the opera be heavy in its own right; it’s frequently more intense and driving than the traditional metal instrumentation accompanying it.

Ten Years #33: Аркона

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
33. Аркона (909 plays)
Top track (49 plays): Покровы небесного старца, from От сердца к небу (2007)
Featured track: Гой, Купала!!!, from От сердца к небу

It’s no coincidence that a lot of folk-oriented Slavic metal bands have more of an edge than their western counterparts. There is a spirit of primitivism and barbarism that seems to permeate these acts; while Alestorm and Korpiklaani are reveling in booze, bands like Arkona are delighting in something more savage. Grittier distortion, harsher vocals, lower quality production, and a tendency to incorporate black metal all play a role. While this has allowed a lot of Slavic folk metal bands to capture a slightly deeper, more introspective connection to their cultural roots, it has also reduced their accessibility. Arkona are impervious to this consequence; they manage to invoke that essence of savage Slavic glory while still constructing songs I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to people unconditioned to extreme metal. This is due in part to their above-average production quality (obviously lacking in a youtube rip), but more so to Masha’s wildly diverse range of sung and screamed vocals, often accompanied by a glorious operatic Russian chorus.

As with the last entry in my last.fm series, there is not much I care to say about Arkona that I did not already cover in a previous post. Their position as my 33rd most listened to band of the past decade is no accident. Hell, they’re the initial reason I learned how to transliterate Cyrillic.

Song of the Day: “In The Room Where You Sleep”

Posted on by Leonard Wilson

On my way out of James Wan’s “The Conjuring” last night, I noticed Ryan Gosling’s name in the credits. A bit of curiosity led me to his band, Dead Man’s Bones. I wasn’t aware he sung, but he’s pretty good at it. Feeling like a mix of The Doors & Roy Orbison, this song really matches with some of the creepiness of the film. Here, the band plays “In The Room Where You Sleep” , with kids as the background vocals. Enjoy.

Ten Years #35: Blur

Posted on by necromoonyeti

Decade of last.fm scrobbling countdown:
35. Blur (850 plays)
Top track (43 plays): Parklife, from Parklife (1994)

It wasn’t until about 1996 that my mother decided it would be acceptable to allow me to purchase cds. Prior to that, all non-Evangelical Christian music and television was banned in our household (aside from The Beatles and Pink Floyd; she liked them as a kid, so they must have never done drugs or any of that Satanic stuff). Her lovely father was exploiting me for slave labor at that point for the fair wage of 25 cents an hour, and I found that, at $8 a pop through the BMG music distribution club, I could buy a new cd every four days. I quickly replaced all of my secret cassette recordings of radio singles with actual albums, and some time the following year that lead to the acquisition of Blur’s Parklife. I was initially appalled to find that it did not contain “Song 2”–the only Blur track that most Americans have ever heard–and considered writing to BMG demanding my money back for their faulty advertising. How dare they sell me some other cd by a band that, according to my radio, only ever wrote one song worth listening to.

Well, suffice to say I gave it a few more listens and it became one of my lasting favorites of that decade. I was oblivious to its tongue-in-cheek social commentary at the time. What I heard was a vision of some foreign, advanced culture in which people spoke in tantalizing accents and could sing about subjects other than religion without resorting to aggression. The novel experience of a world beyond a particularly self-isolating yet prominent American subculture and its proclaimed enemies (grunge music and video games–we hadn’t reinstated the Crusades yet) is largely responsible for my persistent, overly glamorous and unrealistic Europhilia today. Blur’s ability to craft a sound that perfectly reflected the modern British life they were mocking placed them at the forefront of this experience. For me at the time, the most popular band in Britain was a close-kept secret. To have grown up and realized they really were one of the most talented and creative bands of their generation is just icing on the cake. Blur remains one of my most listened-to non-metal bands today–my 35th most-played band of the past decade–and I can’t imagine I’ll tire of them any time soon.