Written by DJ Mandrews on October 30, 2015
It’s The Uncanny Valley!
ur / dead kennedys / the misfits / sonic youth / siouxsie and the banshees / killing joke / catherine o’hara / 45 grave / the mescaline babies / zombina and the skeletones / oingo boingo / the voluptuous horror of karen black / los straitjackets / me first and the gimme gimmes / gaylord b. carter / forms / xtc
So it’s Halloween, and you feel like dancing, and you feel like the shining, and you feel like letting loose? Whatcha gonna be? Better plan all week! You’re dressed up like a clown, putting on your act (it’s the only time all year you’ll ever admit that). Tomorrow your mold goes back on.
Bonfires burning bright, pumpkin faces in the night, dead cats hanging from poles: little dead are out in droves. This day anything goes: burning bodies hanging from poles, candy apples, and razor blades. Little dead are soon in graves. The Devil in me who makes me stare at you as you twist up along! You’re fvcking with me as you slither up to me, your lips are slipping, twisting up my insides, and sing along. You’re just a swinging man. Swing your song, twist it along as you slither up to me, and it’s got to be.
The night is still, and the frost, it bites my face. I wear my silence like a mask and murmur like a ghost: “Trick or treat! Trick or treat! The bitter and the sweet!” I wear my memories like a shroud. I wander through your sadness, gazing at you with scorpion eyes. A sweet reminder in the ice-blue nursery of a childish murder of hidden lustre.
At last the dark years of grieving come to an end, old haunts and habits invoking loved ones and friends, the graveyards forgotten, the churches are empty now. I recall the times past and how much I miss you all.
Wake up! Reborn! Join in and celebrate!
Make noise! Wake up the great dead with reverence!
Endless drumming; rituals to wake up the dead. Bring gifts and spirits, good wine, just cheese and some bread, incense of cigars and spices, pleasures we shared light up the graveyards to show how much we all care.
I sense there’s something in the wind that feels like tragedy’s at hand, and though I’d like to stand by him can’t shake this feeling that I have: the worst is just around the bend.
Blind me with all your lies. Those looks you give me tell me that you’re evil. I hope I don’t see you alive. You’re a creature of destruction. I hope I don’t fit in your plans.
Into the night! Into the night to fight! You gotta swing it right at the zombie hop tonight!
Can’t seem to find my way; someone tell me what to say. Where am I going? Where did I come from? I don’t know, I don’t know…. almost got to paradise, but the smoke always gets in my eyes. Everything I do is wrong. Love is something I don’t understand. Got to move, might be dead.
Yippie Kay Ay!
I was born a sap. All the nurses laughed when they saw me the first time. They giggled and they said, “this poor little monster’d be better off dead.” Helplessly trapped in a body I’m sure should have never been mine, I bet that my real one is doing just fine. It’s all a mistake. I was destined for greatness: a leader, a prophet. They’re just too blind to notice. Your eyes burn right through me; they fill me with fear. I could’ve been at home watching football and drinking beer.
See the flowers round the altar!
See the peaches in tins ‘neath the headmaster’s chair!
See the two who’ve been chosen!
See them walk hand in hand to the front of the hall!
What was best of all was the longing look you gave me. That longing look, more than enough to keep me fed all year.
See the children with baskets!
See their hair cut like corn neatly combed in their rows!
What a year when the exams and crops all failed. Of course you passed, but you were never seen again. We all grew, and we got screwed, and cut, and nailed. Then, out of nowhere: invitation in gold pen!
See the flowers round the altar!
See that you, too, got married, and I wish you well!
Harvest festival, harvest festival, harvest festival….