Don't Turn Off The Lights

Album: The Bunny Boy
Artist: The Residents
Genre: Avant-Garde
Year: 2008
Label: MVD Audio/Santa Dog

The Residents scare me. I don’t know if I can say that about any other band I have ever encountered. I probably couldn’t go to a Residents concert because I can barely sit down and listen to their records for fear of what I might hear. The singsong lyrics about being a butcher, the creepy synths and black guitars are almost too much to bear… almost. The other problem with The Residents is that they’re fascinating, in a sick and twisted way. Some people research serial killers and mysterious disappearances, I research The Residents. The fact that they’ve remained almost entirely anonymous over their 30+ year career is unsettling to me because it means that they could be anybody. If their music wasn’t so frightening this might not be so bad, but their music is scarier than any horror movie you’ve ever seen. I sometimes fear that the lyrics here come from first hand experience and not just dark imaginings.

This latest album, The Bunny Boy, is just as absurd and spine tingling as their older works, proving that these spooks haven’t run out of ideas yet. What is it about bunnies? In Donnie Darko there was a giant bunny predicting the end of the world. In David Lynch’s INLAND EMPIRE there was a room with three bunny-people who made off hand remarks to a laugh track. Why bunnies? Who knows, but now, thanks to Donnie Darko, Mr. Lynch and now, The Residents - bunny rabbits are ruined for me. The Bunny Boy is 19 tracks of demented psychosis and off-kilter terror tactics and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach a second listen. This is not because the music is bad, far from it. The Residents are very competent musicians. No, the reason I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it a second time is because I don’t want some of these images imprinted onto my brain a second time.

I wouldn’t exactly call The Residents accessible, but this release is certainly more pop-song oriented than others. The sex-clown narrative of Tweedles! Comes to mind, as well as the sound collages of Third Reich and Roll. Both of those albums are difficult listens for very different reasons. The Residents once again have managed to invert Pop-sensibilities for their own dark purposes. All the songs are short, the longest being four minutes and 42 seconds, but just because they’ve got pop song structure doesn’t mean that these are pop songs. It’s not like they’re trying very hard to disguise them either, you’re never going to hear songs like “I Killed Him” or “Boxes of Armageddon” played on even the most forward thinking radio stations. If you did, it probably means the end is nigh.

At one point in their career, on the album Duck Stab/Buster & Glen especially, there was a sort of humor about The Residents. They were kind of creepy, but they were also kind of funny. Not anymore. These days, if there is humor in The Residents delivery, it’s lost on me. I can’t listen to songs like “The Dark Man” or “Black Behind” without feeling my skin crawl. They’re trying to scare me and they’re succeeding. Be careful with this stuff. You don’t know who’s been handling it. It could be anyone. It could be me. You could be a Resident and not even know it. Now that’s creepy.

We Don't Need A Doctor... We Need A Victim... We Need A Sacrifice!

Album: Thelema EP
Artist: The Murder City Devils
Genre: Garage Rock/Punk
Year: 2001
Label: Sup Pop

The Murder City Devils were Seattle’s loudest, rowdiest gothic pirate punk pummel band and they can and will kick your ass to the curb. Then, they will curb stomp your face again and again while a deathly organ plays and crowds of ravenous demons bay for blood and down gallons of fine wine. That’s a lot to take in, especially the horns on the demon’s heads. But the music of The Devils is actually fairly simple and easy to swallow. Fast. Loud. Screaming. Rock. It doesn’t take a neuro scientist to figure it out.

Thelema was the Devils’ final EP before breaking up, and it proves that some bands go out at the top of their game. They weren’t gone for long however. The Devils reunited in 2006 and have been sporadically performing since. I discovered them through their drummer, Coady Willis, who is also a member of Heavy Metal duo, Big Business and Sludge Metal lords, the Melvins. Following the trail of breadcrumbs back to the Devils was a thoroughly rewarding find and they’ve become one of my favorite finds in recent memory. Really, what’s not to like? Rock N’ Roll was meant to be this way, with aggressive guitars and slurred, rabid vocals begging for forgiveness, like on “Bride of the Elephant Man.” This is actually one of the Devils slower numbers, but Spencer Moody (the voice of the Devils) is not going to croon on this one. His ragged, howling voice pleads with John Merrick (The Elephant Man of fame) to not “be angry when he meets his maker” and tells him that “his prayers were heard first”. The lyrics coming out of Moody’s mouth don’t always make sense, but manage to cover a lot of topics, ranging from pirate tales to occult ceremonies. The pirate story, “Bear Away” is probably my favorite track from the EP, if not my favorite Devils track period. Another slower number, the track features some of Leslie Hardy’s finest organ playing as well as some of Moody’s most furious cries into the night. You picture him, whisky bottle in one hand, microphone in the other and have a hard time not following his advice when he screams “you better run for cover!” before roaring “we need a martyr, we need a victim, we need a sacrifice!!!”

At twenty minutes in length, the Thelema EP is a short but sweet trip into Murder City. The band is at their best, with punk guitar rippers and soaring gothic organs. The drums pound with a primitive rage and the bass rumbles like a great boiler. Over all of this, Moody’s raspy bellow explodes, grabbing your attention like an undead cowboy’s lasso. “That’s What You Get” and “One Vision Of May” are the cannon blasters, breaking everything in the room and leaving you begging for more. “Bear Away”, “Midnight Service at the Mutter Museum” and “Bride of the Elephant Man” are the slower, heavier tracks, giving the EP it’s weight. But how does the EP end? It ends with the unholy bizarre “364 Days” which Moody describes at the beginning of the track as “an open letter to St. Nicolas.” It’s a waltzing song that paints a sad picture of an alcoholic Santa Claus all alone at the North Pole. It’s a sad ending to an excellent EP and the punctuation mark at the end of the Devils short but exceptional studio output. With any luck, you will enjoy this EP as much as I did and will go on a deeper sojourn into the Murder City. It’s a dangerous trip, but a fun one.