I'm sorry for disappearing for nearly three months, but I was in a bit of a creative rut and also hopelessly distracted by other pursuits. Both of these things are still true, but hearing a couple of suitable tracks on shuffle inspired me to make it up to anyone who cares with a spooky/dark mix just in time for Halloween. Literally... just in time. Like, I really couldn't have put this off any longer. Hopefully, it's not too late for someone out there to still enjoy it. To be clear, it's not explicitly Halloween-themed, but it should scratch that itch if you're in the mood for something spine-tingling to soundtrack the rest of your autumn. As usual, my unnecessary ramblings are below, followed by a Spotify playlist.
As for future posts, I know I'm due for a quarter three album review, but I don't actually have a whole lot of releases to talk about, so I'll probably end up combining the last two quarters of the year into one post a bit later on. No promises that I'll come up with something else to fill the gap before then, but I'll certainly try my best.
1. Arca - Piel
This song played over an incredibly horrific scene in the last season of The Handmaid's Tale (I know, that doesn't narrow things down much), and even though I'd listened to it several times before then, I now get this nervous, churning feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I hear it. There's an unmistakable eeriness to the inchoate fragility of the vocals, and the sonic bed upon which they lie is so painstakingly sparse it creates a sense of something beyond silence, a negative silence, a deep, gaping, incomprehensibly beautiful black hole of dread.
2. Agnes Obel - Familiar
Agnes Obel has a talent for crafting impeccable sonic atmospheres that are as gorgeous as they are haunting. From the beginning, between the lush resonance of her piano-playing and the ghostly lilt of her crooning, there is already a palpable sense of unease oozing from every corner. Then arrive the ominous brushes of percussion, the sawing strings, and, finally, what is presumably Obel's own voice, pitch-shifted and multiplied to create a dark fever dream of a chorus. The imagery that occasionally jumps out of the Cocteau Twins-like lyrical abstraction is the creepy cherry on top: "The dark was opening wide . . . under a mask of vermilion ruling eyes."
Agnes Obel has a talent for crafting impeccable sonic atmospheres that are as gorgeous as they are haunting. From the beginning, between the lush resonance of her piano-playing and the ghostly lilt of her crooning, there is already a palpable sense of unease oozing from every corner. Then arrive the ominous brushes of percussion, the sawing strings, and, finally, what is presumably Obel's own voice, pitch-shifted and multiplied to create a dark fever dream of a chorus. The imagery that occasionally jumps out of the Cocteau Twins-like lyrical abstraction is the creepy cherry on top: "The dark was opening wide . . . under a mask of vermilion ruling eyes."
3. Kate Bush - Leave It Open
Nearly any track from Never for Ever, The Dreaming, or the second half of Hounds of Love could have made it onto this mix, but this song has always felt especially haunted to me. The vocals are processed to make Bush sound like an affectless, cold-blooded part-human, part-robot, part-amphibian thing, which makes the cruelty of the lyrics ("I kept it in a cage, watched it weeping, then made it stay") all the more horrifying to swallow. For the finale, a chorus of wobbly disembodied voices chants creepily, "We let the weirdness in," and if you're not sold by that point, I don't even want to know you.
Nearly any track from Never for Ever, The Dreaming, or the second half of Hounds of Love could have made it onto this mix, but this song has always felt especially haunted to me. The vocals are processed to make Bush sound like an affectless, cold-blooded part-human, part-robot, part-amphibian thing, which makes the cruelty of the lyrics ("I kept it in a cage, watched it weeping, then made it stay") all the more horrifying to swallow. For the finale, a chorus of wobbly disembodied voices chants creepily, "We let the weirdness in," and if you're not sold by that point, I don't even want to know you.
4. FKA twigs - Mothercreep
This is one of those rare songs that actually gets less weird as it progresses. From an ominously chopped and distorted opening, it reverses itself, folding those disparate components back into the song from which they originated. FKA twigs' voice is deceptively soothing as it rises above the electronic clamor to insist repeatedly, "I'll be there soon," before eventually breaking down into a metallic, unearthly artifact of its former self. What ever happened to FKA twigs anyway? We need her back to give us some more creepy jams.
This is one of those rare songs that actually gets less weird as it progresses. From an ominously chopped and distorted opening, it reverses itself, folding those disparate components back into the song from which they originated. FKA twigs' voice is deceptively soothing as it rises above the electronic clamor to insist repeatedly, "I'll be there soon," before eventually breaking down into a metallic, unearthly artifact of its former self. What ever happened to FKA twigs anyway? We need her back to give us some more creepy jams.
5. U.S. Girls - New Age Thriller
I love the squiggly synth instrumental on this song because it sounds like a cross between an iconic horror movie theme a la Halloween and a lost spooky novelty song a la "Monster Mash," which is the kind of unexpected combo I'm 100% here for. As an added surprise, the lyrics veer toward the existential, exposing far too relatable psychological fears ("You don't own yourself;" "You all have nothing here/You have so much to fear") as the real horror movie monsters we're all running in abject horror away from - and Meg Remy as the possessed narrator voicing them to life.
I love the squiggly synth instrumental on this song because it sounds like a cross between an iconic horror movie theme a la Halloween and a lost spooky novelty song a la "Monster Mash," which is the kind of unexpected combo I'm 100% here for. As an added surprise, the lyrics veer toward the existential, exposing far too relatable psychological fears ("You don't own yourself;" "You all have nothing here/You have so much to fear") as the real horror movie monsters we're all running in abject horror away from - and Meg Remy as the possessed narrator voicing them to life.
6. The Dresden Dolls - The Gardener
It's probably uncool these days to be a Dresden Dolls fan (largely due to Amanda Palmer's contentious... well, everything), but there's no denying how massively formative they were to my taste circa 2004-2006. I doubt I would be listening to anything I like now without them. I'm not going to lie and say they aren't the goth equivalent of pretentious theater kids - they called their genre "punk cabaret," for God's sake - but they're so charmingly earnest about it. Not to mention, Amanda Palmer's cathartic songwriting frequently struck gold and was bolstered by Brian Viglione's insane drumming skills. This song is more of a mood piece than anything, turning an innocuous subject into a macabre, delightfully melodramatic piece of psychological horror.
It's probably uncool these days to be a Dresden Dolls fan (largely due to Amanda Palmer's contentious... well, everything), but there's no denying how massively formative they were to my taste circa 2004-2006. I doubt I would be listening to anything I like now without them. I'm not going to lie and say they aren't the goth equivalent of pretentious theater kids - they called their genre "punk cabaret," for God's sake - but they're so charmingly earnest about it. Not to mention, Amanda Palmer's cathartic songwriting frequently struck gold and was bolstered by Brian Viglione's insane drumming skills. This song is more of a mood piece than anything, turning an innocuous subject into a macabre, delightfully melodramatic piece of psychological horror.
7. Imogen Heap - Rake It In
Before she was an innovator of modern musical technology, Imogen Heap started off as a piano player built more in the mold of Tori Amos by way of Alanis Morissette, which sounds awful, I know, but her debut, I Megaphone, is all the more intriguing for its messiness. All of its songs have a bit of rough-edged darkness about them, but this one is especially nightmarish. The cracks and snags in Heap's unpolished vocals have the effect of a dull razor blade hacking away at the listener's jugular. Midway through, the bare-bones piano accompaniment behind her is run over by a clanking, squeaking, screaming stampede of funhouse terrors.
Before she was an innovator of modern musical technology, Imogen Heap started off as a piano player built more in the mold of Tori Amos by way of Alanis Morissette, which sounds awful, I know, but her debut, I Megaphone, is all the more intriguing for its messiness. All of its songs have a bit of rough-edged darkness about them, but this one is especially nightmarish. The cracks and snags in Heap's unpolished vocals have the effect of a dull razor blade hacking away at the listener's jugular. Midway through, the bare-bones piano accompaniment behind her is run over by a clanking, squeaking, screaming stampede of funhouse terrors.
8. Cocteau Twins - Blue Bell Knoll
In my opinion, the harpsichord makes everything 50% more creepy by virtue of its inclusion alone. It's just got this unsettling vibe to it, like you know some creepy shit must have gone down in the dungeons of several repressed Victorian-era recluses who owned one. On top of that, Elizabeth Fraser's voice on this song sounds as extraterrestrial as ever, gliding phantom-like across the elusive, threading melodies and airy, indecipherable syllables. On one hand, you feel a bit like she's singing you to sleep; on the other, you're pretty sure you'll wake up later screaming from a horrible nightmare.
In my opinion, the harpsichord makes everything 50% more creepy by virtue of its inclusion alone. It's just got this unsettling vibe to it, like you know some creepy shit must have gone down in the dungeons of several repressed Victorian-era recluses who owned one. On top of that, Elizabeth Fraser's voice on this song sounds as extraterrestrial as ever, gliding phantom-like across the elusive, threading melodies and airy, indecipherable syllables. On one hand, you feel a bit like she's singing you to sleep; on the other, you're pretty sure you'll wake up later screaming from a horrible nightmare.
9. Sufjan Stevens - The Seer's Tower
On an album with a song about the flesh-eating dead rising from their graves and another about sympathizing with a serial killer, it's impressive that this is the one that haunts me most. Lyrically, it's a lot of things - biblical allegory ("With His sword, with His robe, He comes dividing man from brothers"), a firsthand account of domestic strife ("My mother, she betrayed us, but my father loved and bathed us"), resigned acceptance of a lonely end ("Still I go to the deepest grave, where I go to sleep alone") - but they're all equally unsettling. Even more unsettling is the music itself, building from a deadly hush to an apocalyptic climax that dissolves in a lingering, phantasmic rattle.
10. My Brightest Diamond - Black & Costaud
I have to admit I don't know what the fuck is happening in this song lyrically, but I think that's probably part of its sinister appeal. Shara Nova takes on a cheeky, boisterous, and more than a little unhinged persona, whispering and warbling and wailing in an unintelligible blend of English and French. Meanwhile, the instrumental behind her, all snarling woodwinds and jagged strings, surges and recedes like a tumultuous sea. The end result is sort of like a Disney musical filtered through a film noir lens with just a dash of b-horror movie camp.
I have to admit I don't know what the fuck is happening in this song lyrically, but I think that's probably part of its sinister appeal. Shara Nova takes on a cheeky, boisterous, and more than a little unhinged persona, whispering and warbling and wailing in an unintelligible blend of English and French. Meanwhile, the instrumental behind her, all snarling woodwinds and jagged strings, surges and recedes like a tumultuous sea. The end result is sort of like a Disney musical filtered through a film noir lens with just a dash of b-horror movie camp.
11. Shannon Wright - Flask Welder
Shannon Wright's lyrics can be frustratingly opaque, but, in this case, it works in her favor. There isn't much to grab onto in terms of concrete imagery or clear emotion. Instead, we're served a collage of harsh, ominous words that make grammatical sense, to an extent, but defy logic: "Your mar hushes my frame, and you lid the envelope of monsoon." In the second verse, the title character is introduced: "A flask welder, your jaunty trade, you use to pry the weight." As nondescript as this is, the vague terror it invokes serves as sufficient warning that nothing good is going on here, a feeling intensified by the see-sawing instrumental melody and Wright's lung-blasting howls.
Shannon Wright's lyrics can be frustratingly opaque, but, in this case, it works in her favor. There isn't much to grab onto in terms of concrete imagery or clear emotion. Instead, we're served a collage of harsh, ominous words that make grammatical sense, to an extent, but defy logic: "Your mar hushes my frame, and you lid the envelope of monsoon." In the second verse, the title character is introduced: "A flask welder, your jaunty trade, you use to pry the weight." As nondescript as this is, the vague terror it invokes serves as sufficient warning that nothing good is going on here, a feeling intensified by the see-sawing instrumental melody and Wright's lung-blasting howls.
12. CocoRosie - Werewolf
CocoRosie are perfect for this time of year because every one of their songs sounds like it was crafted in a mythical underworld full of wandering ghost children, haunted opera singers, and an entire caravan of possessed, broken-down toys. I admit I chose this one purely for its title and because it's my all-time favorite. Lyrically, it's not so much spooky as sad, focused on a narrator who is forced to reckon with the damage caused by volatile relationships with unstable men and vacillating between false bravado ("Gun hip, swollen lip, bottle sip/Yeah, I suck dick") and genuine heartbreak ("You blew through me like bullet holes, left stains on my sheets and stains on my soul").
CocoRosie are perfect for this time of year because every one of their songs sounds like it was crafted in a mythical underworld full of wandering ghost children, haunted opera singers, and an entire caravan of possessed, broken-down toys. I admit I chose this one purely for its title and because it's my all-time favorite. Lyrically, it's not so much spooky as sad, focused on a narrator who is forced to reckon with the damage caused by volatile relationships with unstable men and vacillating between false bravado ("Gun hip, swollen lip, bottle sip/Yeah, I suck dick") and genuine heartbreak ("You blew through me like bullet holes, left stains on my sheets and stains on my soul").
13. Parenthetical Girls - Brimstone & Vaseline
I'm sad Parenthetical Girls aren't around anymore. They'll forever be one of my favorite bands, and I'll take any opportunity I'm presented to shill their music. (In fact, this artist profile from over two years ago is still my most viewed post.) The lyrics to this song are a bit vaguer than some of their others, but it seems to be about a dude who is decidedly Not Good. It's more the insistent, blaring stab of synths and Zac Pennington's reedy voice, dripping with contempt, that make it creepy. It feels like Pennington has appointed himself judge and juror at this guy's trial and is about to bring down the gavel of retaliation hard on his various undetailed crimes.
I'm sad Parenthetical Girls aren't around anymore. They'll forever be one of my favorite bands, and I'll take any opportunity I'm presented to shill their music. (In fact, this artist profile from over two years ago is still my most viewed post.) The lyrics to this song are a bit vaguer than some of their others, but it seems to be about a dude who is decidedly Not Good. It's more the insistent, blaring stab of synths and Zac Pennington's reedy voice, dripping with contempt, that make it creepy. It feels like Pennington has appointed himself judge and juror at this guy's trial and is about to bring down the gavel of retaliation hard on his various undetailed crimes.
14. Cake Bake Betty - 64 Little White Things
In under three ironically cutesy minutes, this song tells quite the sordid tale. "Come and rescue me from this giant hotel full of bones and babies," Lindsay Powell pleads in its opening seconds, her voice that of a petrified but curious child, and it only gets worse from there. Backed by a tense, circuitous harpsichord melody, she fills the listener's mind with nightmare imagery of an abandoned upstairs hovel populated by "men who feed on human beings." Of their horrifying proclivities, she sings matter-of-factly, "You can bite your tongue, but it turns them on," and, well, I think we all know how this one is going to end.
In under three ironically cutesy minutes, this song tells quite the sordid tale. "Come and rescue me from this giant hotel full of bones and babies," Lindsay Powell pleads in its opening seconds, her voice that of a petrified but curious child, and it only gets worse from there. Backed by a tense, circuitous harpsichord melody, she fills the listener's mind with nightmare imagery of an abandoned upstairs hovel populated by "men who feed on human beings." Of their horrifying proclivities, she sings matter-of-factly, "You can bite your tongue, but it turns them on," and, well, I think we all know how this one is going to end.
15. Perfume Genius - Longpig
What's better than one song that references cannibalism? Two songs that reference cannibalism. It was quite shocking at the time to hear aggressive tracks like this one on Perfume Genius' third album, Too Bright, after two albums full of sad, sparse piano-and-voice tracks. But the juxtaposition of an aggressive musical backdrop with Mike Hadreas' soft, quivering voice works surprisingly well. Actually, the synth-based instrumental reminds me of a song that could soundtrack the climactic chase scene in a cheesy '80s slasher flick; you can easily imagine someone screaming their head off over top of it.
What's better than one song that references cannibalism? Two songs that reference cannibalism. It was quite shocking at the time to hear aggressive tracks like this one on Perfume Genius' third album, Too Bright, after two albums full of sad, sparse piano-and-voice tracks. But the juxtaposition of an aggressive musical backdrop with Mike Hadreas' soft, quivering voice works surprisingly well. Actually, the synth-based instrumental reminds me of a song that could soundtrack the climactic chase scene in a cheesy '80s slasher flick; you can easily imagine someone screaming their head off over top of it.
16. Lydia Ainsworth - Moonstone
This is actually one of the first songs I thought to include because it spooked me the first time I listened to it. For most of its runtime, it's gorgeous and ethereal, Ainsworth's voice woven into the instrumentation in gauzy, dreamlike layers. But then it arrives at a peculiar breakdown in which various minerals ("moonstone, opal, pearl, quartz, ruby, unakite, pyrite, selenite") are listed by a pitch-shifted helium-filled voice, an effect that barely phases me now but left me intensely uneasy at the time. There's just something about it that immediately calls up an image of demon-possessed children.
This is actually one of the first songs I thought to include because it spooked me the first time I listened to it. For most of its runtime, it's gorgeous and ethereal, Ainsworth's voice woven into the instrumentation in gauzy, dreamlike layers. But then it arrives at a peculiar breakdown in which various minerals ("moonstone, opal, pearl, quartz, ruby, unakite, pyrite, selenite") are listed by a pitch-shifted helium-filled voice, an effect that barely phases me now but left me intensely uneasy at the time. There's just something about it that immediately calls up an image of demon-possessed children.
17. Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones - Lurk 101
If I ever get around to writing another 2018 in review post, Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones' collaborative EP, Vicious Circles, will feature prominently because I've listened to it a ton. I find its dark, slithery electronic soundscapes to be both soothing and spine-tingling at the same time, which creates an interestingly contradictory effect. This particular song is a rhythm-based instrumental that is the aural equivalent of a battering ram, built upon a dizzying sequence of beats punctuated by sighs and squeals that will reverberate deep in your bones long after they've dissipated.
If I ever get around to writing another 2018 in review post, Sinjin Hawke & Zora Jones' collaborative EP, Vicious Circles, will feature prominently because I've listened to it a ton. I find its dark, slithery electronic soundscapes to be both soothing and spine-tingling at the same time, which creates an interestingly contradictory effect. This particular song is a rhythm-based instrumental that is the aural equivalent of a battering ram, built upon a dizzying sequence of beats punctuated by sighs and squeals that will reverberate deep in your bones long after they've dissipated.
18. Lady Gaga - Monster
What's a Halloween mix without a few campy-spooky pop songs to dance in the dark to? I don't care what anybody says: The Fame Monster still goes hard, and the fact that it so unabashedly embraces its own excess is a big part of the reason why. This song is a big old mess, but in the best way possible. Amidst a clusterfuck of spoken word bits, copious amounts of autotune, and blaring, bombastic synths, it unleashes one indelible hook after another, culminating in a melodramatic declaration - "He ate my heart, and then he ate my brain!" - that's delivered with the sort of ballsy, theatrical panache only Lady Gaga can pull off.
What's a Halloween mix without a few campy-spooky pop songs to dance in the dark to? I don't care what anybody says: The Fame Monster still goes hard, and the fact that it so unabashedly embraces its own excess is a big part of the reason why. This song is a big old mess, but in the best way possible. Amidst a clusterfuck of spoken word bits, copious amounts of autotune, and blaring, bombastic synths, it unleashes one indelible hook after another, culminating in a melodramatic declaration - "He ate my heart, and then he ate my brain!" - that's delivered with the sort of ballsy, theatrical panache only Lady Gaga can pull off.
19. Kim Petras - Close Your Eyes
We all have a problematic fave, and I'm willing to admit mine is Kim Petras. Maybe it's morally dubious of me to say due to her association with a certain producer, but she brings the bops, and her Halloween-themed EP, Turn Off the Lights, Vol. 1, in many ways feels like a spiritual predecessor to The Fame Monster itself. This time, though, the singer isn't the hunted but the hunter, and the infectiously overblown chorus serves as both a lure and a warning: "When it's after dark, I'm going to eat your heart/Don't try to fight it; just close your eyes." Between the vocoder-aided harmonizing and the spookified take on Petras' signature "woo-ah!" vocal adlib, this song is just a lot of creepy fun.
We all have a problematic fave, and I'm willing to admit mine is Kim Petras. Maybe it's morally dubious of me to say due to her association with a certain producer, but she brings the bops, and her Halloween-themed EP, Turn Off the Lights, Vol. 1, in many ways feels like a spiritual predecessor to The Fame Monster itself. This time, though, the singer isn't the hunted but the hunter, and the infectiously overblown chorus serves as both a lure and a warning: "When it's after dark, I'm going to eat your heart/Don't try to fight it; just close your eyes." Between the vocoder-aided harmonizing and the spookified take on Petras' signature "woo-ah!" vocal adlib, this song is just a lot of creepy fun.
20. Metric - Blindness
This has been one of my favorite Metric songs for years, partially because it has such a singular sound. Emily Haines typically reserves her darker musings and more somber melodies for her solo music, so it's unusual to hear something so anxious with dystopian dread on a Metric release - but it works brilliantly. The first half is static and dirge-like, its foreboding monotony underpinned by a desire to burst forth that it constantly represses. Finally, the band manages to break free, leading to catharsis in the form of a soaring rock refrain. The message, though, remains darkly sobering: "You gave me a life I never chose/I want to leave, but the world won't let me go."
This has been one of my favorite Metric songs for years, partially because it has such a singular sound. Emily Haines typically reserves her darker musings and more somber melodies for her solo music, so it's unusual to hear something so anxious with dystopian dread on a Metric release - but it works brilliantly. The first half is static and dirge-like, its foreboding monotony underpinned by a desire to burst forth that it constantly represses. Finally, the band manages to break free, leading to catharsis in the form of a soaring rock refrain. The message, though, remains darkly sobering: "You gave me a life I never chose/I want to leave, but the world won't let me go."