horror for president

Castlehead favorites

JOHN CARPENTER
CHARLES MANSON

BOB BELLERUE

"I concur, I concur, Charlie." —Wm. Berger

"No dream and no reality will save you from yourself" —Sodom

"What do you want? Who are you?" —Sally

"We want you, Sally, we want your soul. You set us free." —uh, that dude above, and his friends. Forgive their appearance. Living in a sealed-off crawlspace for a generation does not do wonders for your complexion. He can still take you to the playlist and audio archives of last night's horrorcast™ w/a single click. But remember, "some things are better left alone!" —old jackass caretaker

Hosting two very bent and seasonally appropriate American horror films tonight in Nyack, NY. Here's what I had to say ---

Clownhouse (1989)

Controversial director Victor Salva (Jeepers Creepers, Powder, Rites of Passage) made his first feature a love letter to classic American horror, and, well, might as well say it—adolescent boys in tighty whitys. Salva served a year in prison for untoward activities with one of Clownhouse's underage stars, and was visited weekly and counseled by his friend Francis Coppola. But don't see Clownhouse for the scandal, as there's little of it (if any) on screen; see it because it's a creepy tale of a suburban Halloween night, with plenty of seat-jumps, and three brothers alone in a house (including a young Sam Rockwell) besieged by three homicidal, escaped mental patients in stolen clown outfits and makeup. Clownhouse is a clever and well-structured horror tale in the drive-in tradition.

Last House on Dead End Street (1977)

This movie has nothing to do with a house, or a dead-end street, but a lot to do with a stag filmmaker who gets out of jail, and decides to wreak revenge upon his imagined oppressors by casting them in homemade snuff. "Terry Hawkins" is an evil bastard, with bad deeds on his mind; he's aiming to take out a group of rich decadents, and assembles a ragtag group of hippie sadists who help him execute his productions. Last House on Dead End Street is loaded with creepy, disturbing imagery and graphic gore, so do not bring the kiddies, no sir. This is a twisted American horror artifact, fueled by amphetamines (in real life), and despite its bottom-rung production values, will resonate with you forever once you've seen it.

Both of these films are currently unavailable on home video.

Other haunted filler and short subjects tba.

Many thanks to Don Sigal for arranging the evening. Don has been a constant supporter of My Castle of Quiet, and heads Opposite Records and the Psychedelic Noise in Nyack series of live events.

We hope to see you tonight! Nyack Village Theatre, 94 Main Street, Nyack, NY (best to travel by car, if y'all got one.)

Danny Moore LIVE on My Castle of Quiet has been CANCELED. :(

Daniel J. Moore creates pulsating, meditative, haunted and heavy electronics, like Cluster II with the grime factor set on very high. He's released several excellent tapes—his Black Totality cassette (as Family Treasures), released by Temple of Pei, is four tracks of hovering, churning menace; while his release on Tape Drift from earlier this year, Altars of Ashes, plays it comparatively subtle on the electronics and percussion, allowing sax player Jeffrey Hayden Shurdut to dance La Monte Young-like over Danny's essential atmospheres.

I've seen my fair share of Family Treasures live sets over the past year, and Danny has always appeared laid back, quietly confident, and above all focused. He listens, contemplates, weaves the sound patiently, and never seems to make a ham-fisted move. Check out some clips below from the MCoQ vimeo channel.

Angry, torch-wielding villagers start frying my ass @ the witching hour.
WFMU 91.1 FM (NY/NJ)
WMFU 90.1 FM (Hudson Valley)
wfmu.org live on the Web

Family Treasures @ INC from My Castle of Quiet on Vimeo.

Family Treasures from My Castle of Quiet on Vimeo.

Opponents & Family Treasures from My Castle of Quiet on Vimeo.

Jerk!

Apologies for the lateness of this self-obligatory radio-show archive re-post; I'll trust that many of you were all too moist in the britches about WFMU's annual record fair to notice any absence.

Been feeling sub-par healthwise, and I spent the three hours of airtime (even more so than usual) just playing records that I felt like hearing. Wasn't on the high-energy stuff so much this week; I stuck with the longish-form noise jams and sound art, pleasing myself and undoubtedly a few others as well. As far as "Singles Going Steady" week goes, I'm in love with music—not formats—and my interest in doing what I feel exceeded my ability or want to whittle down my selections to those available only on 7" vinyl, so at the risk of not being a "team player" (nothing new for me) I did what I thought worked for the Castle's week, point blank.

And as far my on-mic rants go, remember that there are always BIGGER ASSHOLES out there than myself, and ultimately, they scare me, firstly because most of them can't spell or write English worth a damn (illiteracy always being frightening), and secondly because what many of those bigger gits lack in comparison to myself is the awareness that they are indeed "jerks," so I give myself huge points for looking in the mirror unflinchingly.

Listener/commenters dug the Isa Christ split 7" (as they should—hey, I played a single after all!), the Angst Hase Pfeffer Nase cassette, and the Rodger Stella/Sharkiface CD from 2008 (thanks for sharing that one, Travis J.)

I'll be DJing live tonight in Brooklyn, as part of a farewell concert for our dear friend Witchbeam, Temple of Pei visionary, and propulsive force behind Telecult Powers and the Hex Breaker Quintet. Our buddy Steve (as we know him) and his charming wife Jillian, are relocating to the wondrous American city of New Orleans (one of my favorite places on Earth), and we wish them both tremendous success and happiness. To celebrate, a mega-concert happens tonight at The Schoolhouse, 330 Ellery Street in Bushwick, Brooklyn, starring SexXxual Ice Land (Telecult Powers + Sister Jillian + Grasshopper + JFR and Lala of Excepter), Nautical Almanac, Sam Goldberg, and Forma. It's going to be a helluva enjoyable night, with Todd Pendu reading Tarot amongst all the other delights. I start spinning (music, that is, my actual "spinning" probably begins a bit earlier, when I hit NYC traffic!) at around 8-8:30, and I hope to see you/meet you there. Unless of course you're a jerk, in which case, approach with caution, though we should be able to achieve some level of jerk solidarity. See Witchbeam's lovely gig flyer above.

Getting back to the radio show, I'm tremendously excited about the great live music coming up in the near future on the Castle, with performances by Danny Moore/Family Treasures (next Thu/Fri!), Heavy Medical (11/12), SSPS (11/19; Jon Nicholson of Excepter solo), Isa Christ, and FUN (dates tba.)

One possible form of suffrage, acquired merely by attending a party in the court of ancient Persia, is seen above. As I wrote on the playlist, "Turned to a tree. Sumbitch." I had several screen captures from this very brief series of shots from the opening of Wishmaster; the one above taking honors because of the intensely mournful expression in the victim's eyes. Looking upward. Petrifed and unable to speak, but able to take you with a single click to the audio archives and playlist for our most-recent horrorcast.

Listening. After.

Yes, after.

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!

MY PASTERY IS WEAK

Salome is so beautiful; somehow more beautiful than any woman you have ever seen. Is her long hair like fresh wheat? Or the blackest Chinese silk? Her eyes are most surely abyssal pools of death, and you long to swim in and out of them, like a minnow. Oh, to be her lover—it would make all of this, all you have become, alright.

The Castle continues to flourish in the post-mitternacht, no one more surprised than myself. Our spezieller Gast, The Communion, hahahahahahahaha they were so very good. They rock the party that rocks the primordial psyche. There will be many Wm.'s-head-sized holes in my wall as I spend the week reviewing their set. (In the meantime, one may click on the love-crazed fool above to hear the archive of last night's full horrorcast, The Communion's set incorporate.)

The playlist comments, which of late often feel like a message board for the tinfoil-hat army, was ALIVE with pleasure over a great many selections—those of Physical Demon, Astro, the aslis / Bob Blaize / Jeph Jerman collab, our friends Towering Heroic Dudes, and the staggering new Sword Heaven LP. Not least of all, Castleheads were grateful for their live pummeling by The Communion, which will post as mp3s in about one week's time to WFMU's Beware of The Blog and Free Music Archive.

In Salome's sweet envelopment, her fleshy animal embrace, only one thought prevails—"I am here! At last! I know a more visceral life, and a more flavorful death than any man has ever known." Her sweet womb holds like a safe canister. This is, however, a pleasure too great to take back with you to life's plain plane, and Salome herself holds your head aloft by its once-tingled hairs.

Take This, That Which Is Offered; The Communion on My Castle of Quiet radio, TONIGHT

As we continue our adventure into the very darkest corners of self-expression, the Castle is thrilled to present a full live set by The Communion. The Communion's set is a life-affirming ass-kicking, one that leaps with ease across several metal and noise touchpoints—a punch out by Autopsy, Eyehategod, Halflings and Tulus all at once. These guys really are that good, and I'm just going to open up the airwaves and let 'em go.

Six million thanks to WFMU trusty Diane Kamikaze Farris, who'll be engineering The Communion's set, live and in real time, and you know, works on big metal tours and stuff, and is graciously lending her dynamite expertise to make sure it all comes off. Diane was also a friend to late Communion guitarist Lee Altomare (1976-2010), who passed away in April of this year. You can check out Diane's mighty playlists here. You rule, Diane!

The Communion do it all, and do it all well, often in the context of a single three-minute song. If you're stooge enough to doubt my claims, check out their myspace page, and the two live clips I shot of the band this past July, embedded below. Their writing and song-structuring are top shelf, and the intensity of their execution make The Communion a hellish live bludgeoning that's not to be missed.

Three swings with a sharp axe should do it @ 12 mid.
TC @ 12:30 approx.
WFMU 91.1 FM (NY/NJ)
WMFU 90.1 FM (Hudson Valley)
wfmu.org live on the Web

The Communion - Iron Lung Dust Bowl from My Castle of Quiet on Vimeo.

The Communion - Conjugal Apparition from My Castle of Quiet on Vimeo.

Kill, kill, kill!

All those angry women, now blood-spattered, scalp-adorned mannequins in my bedroom, rally together, for it is the time of my comeuppance. For 1,000—nay, one million—offenses. None of them had it coming. I know that now. Sorry ladies, I tried. Just not very hard. The voices were louder than your screams could ever have been.

And when you look at me like that, I know I've done wrong. Still, I cry for my damned soul because I am pathetic. I am covered with abundant volumes of sweat, my arm hurts, and for the first time I know fear. I am dying.

Not for the first time since I've been doing this radio program, the selection I considered to be potentially the most objectionable (a 30-min. Richard Ramirez track that begins with a description of male-to-female oral sex during menstruation) turns out to be the piece that sets the comments board alive with pleasure! "Red wings," indeed!

And Dishammer! Not only are these Spanish badasses the hottest thing going in biker-rock-black-metal, but they unabashedly place a gorgeous woman with a dynamite set of tits on every single record cover. Way to represent, boys! Lost in boobs.

See some of you tonight? At the Nyack Village Theatre? I'll be DJing behind the velvet curtain, with live performances by T.O.M.B., The Alienist, and Lotus Bazooka. Here's the Facebook event, and live stream.

That girl from the subway, I vaguely remember her...she's gotten into the red tempera. If you click on her face, not only does it get it bigger (and madder), but she'll take you to the playlist and audio archive of last night's horrorcast™.

NEXT WEEK --- THE COMMUNION LIVE

I hear the faint rumble

By all accounts, Joe Spinell was a man of character to be admired, a generous, warm-hearted actor whom all his colleagues loved or at least respected. Still, in his most unforgettable role as Maniac, Joe was able to channel something deeply disturbing—homicidal rages brought on by a very-wrong mother>son relationship, and the belief that whores must be "saved" by extermination (one of those great ideas we must thank the perversion of Catholicism for.)

Maniac is as bleak, ugly and slimy a New York film as ever there has been, up there in my estimation with Taxi Driver, The Panic in Needle Park, A Hatful of Rain, Bad Lieutenant, and Larry Cohen's 70s films. That New York is mostly gone, though, sanitized for better or worse by the needs of real-estate developers and the very affluent.

I mention Joe Spinell not only because of this week's screen capture from Maniac, but also because he is one of the patron saints of My Castle of Quiet—a good "Joe," with a well-developed dark side. My kinda guy all the way. If you deny the ugliness, you're just going to have to deal with it at some later time, when you may not be ready. But at the same time, be righteous and true, until someone gives you a reason not to be.

Last night was the usual catharsis through the playing of favored recordings, no special guests this time, but plenty of friends, and long-form extrapolations. Older selections by Einstürzende Neubauten and Missing Foundation (talk about acknowledging the ugliness—two experts right there) dazzled the faithful, and Raspberry Bulbs never fails to incite comment. Personally, I loved the new Telecult Powers tape side, and well, everything else I played, too. My show is not a random shmampling of things that might seem ok, freshly plucked from WFMU's new bin; I'm a meticulous planner, and I stand behind every selection.

Click on Frank Zito above to access the playlist and audio streams of last night's horrorcast™.

In two weeks—The Communion LIVE!

shhaaaaaaadaaaaaaaaap!

Pay attention to your kids, if you have them. Listen to the words between the words, or the consequences could be dire. Not likely as dire as that of the dumb fucks pictured above, but then that's why I love Home Movie, because the victims' greatest "sin" is obliviousness. If only I could make one hundred movies about that! Obliviousness could be to me as right & wrong is to Kieslowski, and unrequited love is to Wong Kar-Wai; but it's the Van Gogh syndrome—you can keep telling them, and telling them and telling them—they may even go, "oh, nice art!," but will they get it? NEVER.

Alas, I am but a not-so-humble free-form radio disc jockey.

I love that Husere Grav's unearthly sound-check rumbles were splitting the floor behind my first mic break; it gave the moment a "you're messing with these forces; you asked for them, and here they come!" feel. Perfect. I return to H.P. Lovecraft so often in my descriptions of these shows, and I suppose that's where it "begins" for me in general, and to be sure Lovecraft himself did not originate literary notions of The Abyss, but he was responsible for planting the image solidly in my brain. I mention this because when I opened the door to Studio B's live room to catch a few snaps of Husere Grav in action, abyssal terror was swirling unchecked around the room, and everything was a kind of black-grey whirlpool. This is significant. That one man can come on a plane from Texas to NJ, and render such power...but hey, that's what he was here for, right? If, for whatever reason, I'm not doing this radio program in five years (or next week!), I'll always look back in awe at the amazing canon of live music I've been privileged to present, and Husere Grav added yet another door to that hellborne advent calendar. Thanks, Todd!

Tell them about your gigs in October. TELL THEM!

Yes, yes. Thanks to Don Sigal, Castle supporter and honcho of Opposite Records (also performing/recording as The Alienist, Ken Timber and Sacrupture), I will be participating in some fine events in October at the Nyack Village Theatre in Nyack, NY. On Oct. 1, Castle favorites T.O.M.B. will be performing, along with other artists tba, and I'll be spinning grim interludes between the sets. At the end of the month, 10/29 or 30 (date tba) I'll be screening a double feature of hard-to-see horror films, including the classic American bizarro feature Last House on Dead End Street.

Castlehead love on the playlist for our honored guest, as well as Kyle Clyde, Gerritt, Ancestors, and bats (the animals, not the NZ popsters.) Remind me to speak more on bats next week.

Click on the dumb-fuck parents to get to the playlist and audio archive of last night's horrorcast.

Husere Grav LIVE Horror on the Castle, this Thu/Fri.

The Texas-based project Husere Grav ("Huss-urr-ee Grahv") is certainly metal enough to have a page on the rigidly parametered metal archives—Athanor (aka Todd Watson) having been 1/2 of Homunculus, who released three full-lengths over 2005-6—but Husere Grav combines black-metal prescience and mystery (à la Paysage d'Hiver) with MB-like crumble and haunted tunneling.

All the Husere Grav releases, including vinyl splits, self-released CDrs, and tapes, are gloriously dark trip-out music (the untitled cassette on Stunned comes highly recommended), and Todd's live visit to the Castle comes highly anticipated. Athanor renders a unique performance for WFMU and My Castle of Quiet radio, and you can also catch Husere Grav live the following night, at Port d'Or in Brooklyn, with Castle favorites Hex Breaker Quintet and Isa Christ.

"Goddamit, let me in! We're being eaten alive out here!" @ midnight.
HG @ 12:30 approx.
WFMU 91.1 FM (NY/NJ)
WMFU 90.1 FM (Hudson Valley)
wfmu.org live on the Web

Photo of Husere Grav by Metal Rouge.