In Zombie 5: Killing Birds, there is no explanation offered for the existence of the zombies, little explanation for a gaggle of college-student-victim skeet, and the "Killing Birds" of the title pluck out Napoleon Solo's eyes for no goddamn reason, which connects him for life to the aforementioned undead party crashers. I seriously doubt, that even were we to dig up Joe D'Amato, once the gallons of ectoplasmic bile and cigarette tar had flowed past out of his mouth, and he said, "Whadda the fuck you wake-a me up forrrr?," that even the auteur himself would have an explanation for the torrid mess of this film. Make no mistake, this is a shite horror movie; what you see above is the one good frame from the one good scene—zombie back-of-the-head grab, nerdy girl's face into the concrete basement wall—thud, thud, thud, THUD.
"Very Friendly" by AIDS Wolf should win the Eurovision song contest. (Small matter that they are Americans—we globalized all your asses anyway, a long time ago. Enjoying your Starbucks? I know that you are. "Fact is, it's just damn good coffee.") Their new CD on Skin Graft, March to the Sea, just LEAPT onto my year's best-of list. Playlist-comment nods also to the new Moontower LP on Seed Stock, Rotorvator (black-metal doom from Italy), the Nekrasov CD on Crucial Blast, DMDN, ZDL, Aural Fit and Silver Apples.
She's dead already. Off to nerdy-girl heaven. Good for her. She will still take you, with a click, to the audio archives and playlist for last night's horrorcast™. Me? I have things to do, and my tummy hurts. Thanks for listening!