Tunes of Terror Vol. 3 - Naked In The Afternoon

Halloween simply isn't Halloween without a little Jandek:

The history of Jandek is convoluted and confusing. In an attempt to put simply: the performer known as Jandek has been self publishing his own brand of crypto-goth blues since the late 70s behind many layers of obfuscation and intentional misdirection. Since late 2004 he has finally begun performing (reasonably) consistently in public.

Yet even with the artist making public appearances nothing can take away from the sense of dread and rot ground into every note of 'Naked In The Afternoon,' the opening track from Jandek's 1978 debut Ready For The House.

Jailhouse Rock - Eilert Pilarm

One night, Eilert Pilarm was visited by the ghost of Elvis. The King told him someone had to carry on his legacy- and that person was Eilert. So on went spangly jumpsuits. On went a pair of thick glasses. And on went Eilert Pilarm.

Known as the Swedish Elvis, Pilarm travels the country playing cover shows attended by his devoted cult audience where he belts out avuncular Presley covers including today's Best Song Ever 'Jailhouse Rock.'

Elvis impersonators are a dime a dozen, there are veritable clone armies standing ready to take over Graceland in a flurry of lip curls, hair wax and fatal hip thrusts. However it's this ubiquity of the Elvis impersonator stereotype that marks Pilarm out- he doesn't try to be Elvis, nor does he really want to be Elvis. Eilert is simply Eilert, a former lumberjack turned janitor who moonlights as Swedish Elvis in late night rock clubs.

You'll love Eilert because he's not trying to be something he's not. He's simply feeling the transcendent joy of engaging with his favorite music, much like you or me when we belt our favorite songs in the shower or walking down the street.

Walking on the Moon - Lucia Pamela

Lucia Pamela has a lot of incredible claims to her name. She won beauty pageants. She lead the world's first all female orchestra. She holds a world record for memorizing ten thousand songs. Oh and did we mention that she's been to space and hung out with moon chickens?

Whether or not (cough) that last claim is entirely true, there is most definitely a record of Pamela's lunar travels: the joyously eccentric Into Outer Space With Lucia Pamela, from which we have pulled the track 'Walking on the Moon' for today's Best Song Ever.

The record is somewhere between a children's song cycle and a travel diary. Reportedly Pamela played all of the instruments and of course belted out the tales of her lunar voyages. And what voyages they are! Pamela's moon is populated by alien dogs, cows and chickens. She was quoted in an interview with the New York Press stating 'All of the music is true...most of it is from experience.'

Alongside the album she produced a coloring book for child and adult alike titled Into Outer Space With Lucia Pamela in the Year 2000.

The final unfinished step in this lunar odyssey would have been a theme park with a roller coaster that went to the moon. Sadly for everyone, work was never completed on the project.

Lift Every Voice and Sing - Shooby 'The Human Horn' Taylor

Wow.

Shooby Taylor, also known as The Human Horn, was a postal worker from the New York area who would frequent small recording studios to lay down his own highly unique brand of scat singing.

He was known to play air sax while getting into his groove. He was never backed by live instruments, he would only sing along to records he brought along with him to the studio (many of which appear to be organ elevator music, but some of which is as grandiose as The Ink Spots).

As ever, the music isn't made in jest. It's simply what Shooby wanted to make. It's unbelievably joyous, breathtakingly energetic, and wildly bizarre.

The best description I've ever heard about Shooby Taylor's music was said by film producer Doug Stone, 'If you know anyone who just went through a breakup and you play Shooby Taylor for them, it makes their problems seem completely ridiculous.'

Rock N' Roll McDonalds - Wesley Willis

Wesley Willis was a man possessed, or at the very least haunted, by three demons named Heartbreaker, Nervewrecker and Meansucker. He insisted the only way for him to escape these demons was to make music- and boy has he made a lot of music. 35,000 songs at his last count.

Willis was a Chicago based musician and artist suffering from chronic schizophrenia. In the early 1990s he began releasing large swathes of albums containing his idiosyncratic synth backed punk diatribes. During this period he gained a large cult following (he was known for affectionately head-butting his fans) and would travel in the care of whichever band was opening for him at the time.

The music is often the subject of some controversy. Much like the Kids of Widney High record releases there has been some public backlash as to whether Willis is being exploited by those who enjoy his music or if they genuinely believe in his work. This has lead to Willis fans coining the term 'Savant-Garde' to describe his music.

However you feel about Willis, you can't deny that his songs and his enthusiasm for them are incredibly infectious. Today's song, Rock N' Roll McDonalds, exemplifies his music perfectly. The fact is that Willis really only had two or three songs, but he recycled and tweaked the method to create new pieces at an alarming rate.

They all tend to begin with a basic keyboard back beat with simple synth instruments laid over the top, or 'Devo-lite' as Irwin Chusid described the sound. Willis will then begin to bark often obscene thoughts about whatever the title subject may be (in this instance McDonalds and your ability to rock there, other times it might be giving Batman a beat-down or an ode to his favorite band of the moment). He will often end his songs by shouting out any number of commerical and ad slogans, such as 'Wheaties, Breakfast of Champions.'

The songs are an acquired taste to say the least, and it can be hard to listen to large batches of them; but taken as single pieces they shine in their energy and originality. And now if you're anything like me: you must go to McDonalds- and you must Rock.

Paralyzed - The Legendary Stardust Cowboy

The Legendary Stardust Cowboy (real name Norman Carl Odam) is a sonic force to be reckoned with. He's created a form of rock and roll which boils down the genre to it's bare components. No where can this be seen better than on his debut single Paralyzed.

The Cowboy sings in a style that is all rage, energy, attitude and tongues. He slurs and mangles words till they're barely recognizable, and then howls like a coyote. It's some of the most abrasive and gripping stuff you'll have ever heard.

A chance meeting with T. Bone Burnett (musician and producer of albums such as the soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou) lead to the creation of the song. Burnett got behind a drum kit, even going so far as to take a pretty thunderous solo, while the Cowboy begins to manically strut his stuff. He plays a dobro in the same style one might destroy a dobro and skronks on a bugle, all while screaming and spitting before barely uttering the songs refrain, title and effect on the listener: Paralyzed.

I Wish I Could Sing - Bongo Joe (George Coleman)

George Coleman, better known as Bongo Joe, was a San Antonio, Texas based street musician. He played oil drums by beating them with hammer handles while singing, talking, screaming, rapping and whistling. His magnificence was captured on the album Bongo Joe (still available from Arhoolie Records), recorded in the late 1960's. The album is a wild combination of raw primal drumming, stream of conscious narration, and bluesy surrealism.

The track closest to a standard song is opener I Wish I Could Sing. Coleman creates an infectiously melodic percussion backing to his howls, whines and growls. He sounds unhinged but with his tongue stuck firmly in cheek. Allow this song to be your gateway drug into Bongo Joe's weird world of comitragic puppies, threatening everyone over a radio, and the wild screams of dinosaurs and women.

Who Are Parents - The Shaggs

Any song by The Shaggs requires a bit of explanation. The Shaggs were a three piece out of Fremont, New Hampshire comprised of sisters Helen, Dorothy and Betty Wiggin. The band, hotly tipped for fame by their grandmother, were managed (in some reports rather forcefully and always eccentrically) by their father Austin. He booked them regular gigs at school halls and community theatres, and even pushed them into recording their one and only album Philosophy of the World, from which the above is taken.

Now as you may have noticed if you've begun listening to the track, The Shaggs are not a fantastically gifted band musically. Rhythms wander, guitars jangle discordantly, and the singing can't quite decide on a key. There are wonderfully serendipitous moments of harmony appearing out of the mix, but overall things lack polish to put it generously. However what The Shaggs lack in musical training they more than make up for in unselfconscious sincerity. There's an innocence and a genuine belief in the music they're putting out which cuts to the heart far quicker than lush harmonies or rich orchestration ever could.

Nowhere is this better exemplified than the song Who Are Parents. The song is a sweet n' slow piece of sixties pop reminding kids that, in the end, your parents are going to love you no matter what. Is it a little trite? Sure. Yet no other band has even tried to approach this message, and one suspects that if they did they wouldn't pull it off with anywhere near as much heart. Simple, sweet and it'll have you thinking fondly for your folks. Not something I expect to write about a rock song, but thoroughly glad that I am able to.