Mischief night, or Gate night (also known as Devil's Night, Goosey Night, Cabbage Night and Mizzy Night in some areas), is an annual tradition in parts of England, Canada, and the United States; a night when the custom is for people (primarily teenagers and preteens) to take a degree of license to play pranks and do mischief to their neighbors. The most common date for mischief night is October 30, the day before Halloween.
In Detroit (and other places), it is known as Devil's Night. Let's see what kind of tunes we can get going for that.
I don't know about you, but I love horror movies. And not that namby-pamby Saw crap, or Final Destination: When Rube Goldberg Devices Attack. I mean real horror!
Laughter is how humans let each other know it's ok. When people have a case of "nervous laughter", they're just trying to calm themselves down. All mammals have a little place in their brain that lights up when they "laugh".
I have here a copy of Kingsley Amis' The King's English: A Guide to Modern Usage. He has this to say of Frankenstein:
Frankenstein (brilliantly named) is the eponymous character in a Gothic romance written by Mary Shelly in the early eighteenth century. He makes something like a human being from bits of dead bodies and gives the result life. The creature is fundamentally good, but after much ill treatment from mankind becomes the instrument of Frankenstein's destruction.
In the early twentieth century, when science and technology seemed t be spreading at a great rate, it was natural for writers to look for images of human invention over-reaching itself. The Frankenstein myth was pressed into service, but in a simplified or garbled form whereby the name of Frankenstein became attached to the monster. Those who talked about the danger that humans would create a deadly Frankenstein were sternly and regularly rebuked for linguistic impropriety by such as Fowler.
After a time, whether as monster or creator, Frankenstein was no longer to be found in newspaper columns. Perhaps he had simply gone out of fashion. Or perhaps, the whole question of how to refer to him had been made too difficult or cumbersome to handle. If the latter, it was something of a triumph for the sticklers.
Here's some songs by people who couldn't care one way or the other.
Back in nineteen-mumble-mumble, I had a Halloween party and invited all my friends from school. Halloween parties are really great when you're eight.
My mom had gone to the library and borrowed a 16-mm projector and a copy of War of the Worlds. The original 1953 version. This was a one-reel "highlights" version, in black-and-white.
And Mom did not know how to get the sound working on the projector.
Actually, I'll bet there was no sound on that single reel anyway. But you can't get a bunch of kids to sit in the dark and watch a silent movie....
So, being inventive, she sat behind us, next to the projector, and made all the sound effects. Dialog, funny voices, you name it.
Man, the first time that heat-ray went off, she was back there yelling "NEROWOWOWOWOWOW!!!" and we screamed.
Prestigidination - "War of the Worlds"
Betty Johnson - "The Little Blue Man" (featuring a young Hugh Downs)
I'm sure you noticed Vincent Price a lot during our week of Poe. Well, today is the anniversary of his death, a few days short of Halloween. He was 92.
Vincent was a consummate actor who could not only chew on scenery, but swallowed it whole. I have to respect that. He's got an impressive filmography and I suggest you watch some of his work. So what if it's in black-and-white?
My mom met him once and asked if it would be okay if she gave him a hug.
"Madam, you may do what ever you please," he said.
I should put that on a T-shirt. MY MOM HUGGED VINCENT PRICE.
Plus, he could sing. Oh, what a lovely voice he had.
These guys are The Residents. You have to know about them if you want any kind of geek-cred.
The story goes that they sent in a demo-tape, but never put their name on it. When the record company they sent it to returned the tape, it was addressed to "Resident". Since then, they have released over sixty albums, numerous music videos and short films, three CD-ROM projects, two video games, ten DVDs, and have undertaken seven major world tours.
You give a listen and see why they were rejected back in 1972.
That last tack is a Residents cover by Primus. Oh, you don't know who Primus is? Thanks for making me feel old.
Someone needs to make an anime music video for Tokyo Godfathers using this song. Like, yesterday.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Tiger Lillies. Unlike Insane Clown Possie, I'll wager they understand how magnets work.
Here's a couple more of their songs; one based on the works of Edward Gorey and the other from a collection of perfectly dreadful child morality (mortality?) tales.
In an effort to increase your geek-cred, I now present Francis E. Dec. This man is a kook of the highest order.
If you listen to "Coast to Coast" with Art Bell, as I do, you've probably familiarized yourself with a number of kooks, but Dec takes the cake. No, he doesn't just take the cake; he takes the table, the kitchen, the truck that delivered the ingredients, and the cook. He's not just out of the kook-closet; he's in the living-room, sitting on your sofa, with his feet on the table.
In 1985, Boyd "Doc" Britton received a stack of Dec's flyers mass-mailed to the media; in 1986, he made a spoken word recording of himself reading five of Dec's rants over various background music selected and mixed in at random. I've got one of them here:
Rant Three
And then, later, Psychic TV made a (somewhat) danceable tune out of a rant.
Halloween is about scary things. I can't think of anything more scary than being stuck in Dec's head.
You missed the Kajui Movie Fest at the Dallas Museum of Art this weekend. You also missed SUSHI WORLD.
Tell you what. When you come to A-Kon or Animefest, we'll all go to SUSHI WORLD. They're open twenty-four hours and it's 10% after 1 AM. Even if you're there during regular hours, it's still only about $20 per person. It's so worth it.
Katie loves it. She was gushing. Big eel fan, Katie. They've got good eel there.
Blue Öyster Cult - "Godzilla"
(This is the only song that Ogre will dance to. If you don't know who Ogre is, you have not been doing cons in Dallas very long.)
Today is the last day of the Texas State Fair, so I have to tell you a story.
Back in nineteen (mumble-mumble), I went to the Fair with a couple of buddies and it was raining the entire time. We saw everything we could stand and were soaked to the bone.
Now! Across from Fair Park is a tiny strip of bars and restaurants called "Exposition Park". This is because the road between them and the fair is called Exposition. One of the bars there was called "The Bar of Soap". It was a bar, yes; but it was also a laundromat.
"A bar and a laundromat?" you ask. Yes. What better thing to do while waiting for your clothes to dry than drink a beer and catch a round of pool?
So, soaked from a day at the fair in the rain, my two buddies and I went over to the Bar of Soap to use their dryers and get some clothes that weren't soaked.
Bar of Soap also had live bands, at times. On that particular evening, the band was the Necro Tonz. Tonight, I present the only CD of theirs I know about. Enjoy.
Mucho years ago, when I was a kid, my mom used to take me to the Theater for the Deaf. There were generally two actors for each character--one signing and the other speaking. In the program, there would be a list of what sign was used for each name.
"Edgar Allen Poe" was a biography, interspersed with reenactments of some of the more famous stories. The signing Poe was "P" to the heart and the speaking Poe was "P" to the head. They conversed, these two, each telling the other he was perfectly sane. I might have eight or nine.
This was my introduction to Poe.
The deaf aren't going to hear the beating of a tell-tale heart. However, they can feel it when the bass of the speakers has been turned up, and I could feel it too, and it just about beat beat beat the crap out of me. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever witnessed. And when that fake head was pulled out of the floor with the under-lighting and they turned it around to show that awful eye, I screamed like a banshee.
I don't remember if anyone else screamed. I do remember that no one heard me but Mom.
Vincent Price, not to be undone, did his own version.
As much as I love James Mason's version, here's one by Iggy Pop:
And in other cautionary tales of sloppy body disposal, here's Diamanda Galas reading "The Black Cat":
Which I guess goes to that rule of mystery writing. "Never kill a cat."
It's "Ladies' Night" here at Tunes of Doom, and we'll take a brief gander at the girl Mr. Poe married. I say "girl" because she was thirteen at the time.
Virginia Eliza Clemm and Edgar Allen were married back in 1835, when you could get away with stuff like that. She died at 24 of tuberculosis. Maybe, he had some influence on her. Here's one of her poems:
Ever with thee I wish to roam — Dearest my life is thine. Give me a cottage for my home And a rich old cypress vine, Removed from the world with its sin and care And the tattling of many tongues. Love alone shall guide us when we are there — Love shall heal my weakened lungs; And Oh, the tranquil hours we'll spend, Never wishing that others may see! Perfect ease we'll enjoy, without thinking to lend Ourselves to the world and its glee — Ever peaceful and blissful we'll be.
There's no doubt that she had an influence on him. Besides the mysterious "Lenore" from "The Raven" and the eponymous "Annabel Lee", Poe had a bit of a hang-up for the dead girls.
LO! 't is a gala night Within the lonesome latter years. An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres....
Poe really outdoes himself with this poem, I think. Here's a super creepy version with the impeccable Ken Nordine reading. That version was actually used in this little mash-up, "JuxtiPoeCreature", by Juxtaposeur:
It's also the alternate title to a movie--the only one I can think of where it does not look like Vincent Price is having fun.
