Stretch’s Scary Halloween Songs No.14: SQURL – Funnel of Love

onlylovers

You want me to stare and remain impassive, right? (To self…be a vampire…be the best vampire ever…be pale)

Here’s the awesome opening segment from the wonderful “Only Lovers Left Alive.” A movie in which Tom Hiddleston’s inability to react to anything that’s going on actually helps his performance. A movie in which Tilda Swinton inability to be anything else but a vampire really helps. A movie in which John Hurt’s inability to be anything other than a sinister old man really helps.  Basically no one acts.

HiddleSwinton never really caught on though.

More junkie-chic vampires please. The soundtrack to this album creates an odd listening sensation, especially walking around your daily boring, ordinary human life (That’s right, I said it. Screw you humans). You actually become pale and blink less and get pissy at Taylor Swift posters. You walk, slowly trailing a bottle of Malbec behind you sneering at passersby. Eyeing up swans as a potential food source. Only the best for you. Crouching for no reason. Looking at beautiful people as possible eternity mates. A sort of non-goth goth. Add a flouncy shirt and you’re away. Basically, you become a pretentious dick.

Try it though. It’s fun. Better than what you were going to do.

Stretch’s Scary Halloween Songs No.13: The Cramps – Human Fly

“Well I’m a human fly
I-I said F-L-Y
I say “buzz buzz buzz”
A-and it’s just becuz
I-I’m a human fly
A-and I don’t know why
I got 96 tears and 96 eyes”
the-cramps-1

Halloween is coming. I lay sweaty in my bed with the dancing moist pumpkins and sweaty witches’ brooms invading my dreams, forcing me awake.

In the reeking darkness, I see a man silhouetted at the end of my bed wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants, a puff of smoke leaving the area where his head should be and escaping through the open window past fluttering ghostly drapes.

I rub my twitching eyes and notice I have the alcohol sweats. My head pounds and I see another shadowy figure behind the swaying man. A woman with red curly hair, her face lit by an angry moon, exhibiting a dark wet-lipped sneer. I pull the bed covers up to my face and wonder whether I should ask them a pertinent question. She begins to sway beautifully. They both move to an unheard ancient music.

My face is fully wet now and the sticky humidity has made me, I must say, breathless. Biting down hard on my knuckles,  I watch them. Opening my mouth to speak, no sound comes out. I feel strangely aroused. What is this feeling? She puts her ring-ed finger to her lipstick-ed mouth. He leans in. His devilish eyes focus on me. He pours red wine into my mouth until I gag. She sits sliently at the edge of the bed. My mind is full of multiple possible scenarios, some including my demise. He moves closer awkwardly but with grace, his glistening white shoulders moving like an insect. She smokes cigarettes and blows a ring at my head. I am backed up against the headboard, pushing down on the soaked sheets. My startled eyes like something from a silent movie. He opens his wine-drenched mouth, his cigarette-stained teeth smiling at me and through his hot breath comes the sound,

“Buzz…buzz…buzz.” Over and over again.

The air around us vibrates violently. The lamp crashes to the floor. She throws the bed covers to the wall. He smashes the wine bottle above my head. Bottles fall to the ground as they close in. She climbs on top of me. I know what’s about to happen. He climbs on her back to get a spectator’s view. A bottle of whiskey rolls across the floor. He has more wine now, spilling it on my bare chest, then casting it aside after guzzling half of it. She pops champagne and necks it, the foaming spillage forming around the area of our connection.

Her eroticism and reptilian rhythmic motion…the, the, the vibrating air send me into an ecstatic thrall. She screams….He buzzes. She throws her wine glass behind her and he rubs her wet hair as she performs her devilish insane exhibition on my prone body. The light fixtures explode and the walls begin to drip with what I hope is wine and my, my, my last thought before I succumb to these unnatural, unearthly pleasures is that if I wake from this surreal carnal experience, I really must bring all this glass to the recycling centre in the golden morn.

Because, THAT would be the right thing to do.

Stretch’s Scary Halloween Songs No.8: Miranda Sex Garden – Play

It’s coming up to that time. Yes, Petey Steele is dead, so Halloween’s a’comin and he gets to be more involved than usual. So, if

I ain't never writ a banana, no way.

you see a nine-foot tall goth-metaller looking paler than usual, get the fuck out of town. Ray Bradbury’s Halloween Tree will be on my bedside locker yet again. When I say bedside locker, I mean branch. And when I say book, I mean banana.

Before Russell Brand became a man, he had a relatively successful time scaring the shit out of young indie kids pretending to be that creepy wench from Ring. So effective was he that between himself, Ride and Miranda Sex Garden, no pregnancies occurred in the Oxford area for the whole of 1992… Then he became a man and screwed seven shades of shit out of middle-England. No wonder the Daily Mail is outraged by the man. That dirty, dirty sod.

Anyway, if anybody remembers this band, you get a prize. Unfortunately the prize is me, forever. So, start picking out paint colours, we have a lot to talk about. I am obedient, cook perfect Risotto, but am slightly not right. Testemonies will be produced on request. Although, they all say the same thing: nice enough but lapses into craziness cyclically. Difficult to see while driving.

Boo! I’m behind you

Something’s gotta hold of my heart……

Stretch’s Scary Halloween Songs No.5: Aphex Twin vs Oh my lawd

Kudos to Guardian futbol people, as it is here that this lazy gibbon got the idea (stole).

Watch two videos carefully.

Vote for the scariest video. I know which one made my fur crawl!

Stretch’s Scary Halloween Song No.3: The Carny

Eight minutes of doom and gloom following a circus troop through what seems to be an Irish-summer worth of rain in a tale full of dread, dwarves, nags and other scary things from Nick Cave’s imagination.  If you feeble-types get a chance, read his novel, And The Ass Saw The Angel.  It has similar themes of dread, but less rain.

Anyway I got into Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds when I got the Tender Prey album as a teenager. This album made me bin the remainder of my Doors albums, although in fairness I had vomited on a number of my tapes, after a lot of the red sick-maker Southern Comfort. I drank more than my littul body could cope with. I still have some of the crusted tapes. The Doors seemed fake compared to Nick Cave. He seemed more powerful, more energetic, more real, more European (despite being from Oz), more me.

The second album of his I got was Your Funeral My Trial, which contains some of my favourite songs of all time. The shit-kicker at the end “Scum” about two journalists: “they gave me a bad review, and maybe you think it’s just water under the bridge. Well, my young friend, I’m the type who holds a grudge.”

I would listen to this album to get me to sleep for months, and every night “the Carny” unnerved little Stretch.  The glockenspiel and xylophone hammer away through the song driving forward this march of circus freaks. I would shiver thinking about the rain and the poor starving horse. All the employees scared shitless, because the Carny had gone and an uneasiness is there. They don’t want him to come back.  They bury his horse, but seem to be afraid of it.

Well, I as a little Stretch would be lying in the dark, the crackling end of my joint providing ample light to see shadows move around my room; faces appearing and disappearing.  Noises heard in strange parts of the room. A slow feeling of panic would rise and fall with each illumination. The marching beat would continue and my eyes flick around unnerved by I don’t know what and then the xylophone would end the song and I would shake myself out of this trip, lean down, hit rewind and do it all again.

The vid below is from the Wim Wenders film Wings of Desire, in which Nick plays live. Good clip as it’s when Nick was at his mostest.