this is a nightmare in song form. the demo version (without vocals) is significantly less creepy, but still brilliant.

this song is so creepy but beautiful.

The recording may be raw, but this song reeks of pure insane genius. 60's-inspired organ-fueled sleaze. The band boasts the former organist of "The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black". This is one of many instrumental numbers consisting of guitar, organ, shakers and what sounds like an old drum machine. Shamelessly derivitive, lo-fi and spooky. It's one part surf and equal parts garage and swing. Henry Mancini-meets-The Mummies-meets-The Stray Cats.

A fascinating out-take from the "Diamond Dogs" sessions, �Dodo� can be seen as the starting point of Lady Stardust�s shift from glitter space-boy to paranoid, plastic soul stylist. Like almost everything on D. Dogs, the lyrics are inspired by Orwell�s �1984�, but the music seems to be profoundly damaged by sleek, eerie production style of Willie Mitchell.
Thus the song plays like Al Green in Hell, w/a great groove and deeply creepy feel. The Thin White Duke starts here.

My favorite track from the latest Goldfrapp LP.
The song takes AM-Radio sunshine pop and exposes the concept to English psychedelic folk at its most radioactive.
The resulting mutation is both sexy and ominous.
The groove is languid, but insistent.
The samples and the synths sound dusty/dirty.
The strings/guitars/harps brood luxuriously.
And then there is Allison's lovely/creepy voice/melody: all woozy sex appeal and little girl menace.
It sounds like that image from the film "Blue Velvet" - lovely summer lawn under which throbs thousands of huge bugs.
Wonderfully slurred....

A strange instrumental which borrows the melody from the first line or two of "Strangers In The Night" and repeats it obsessively without really getting past the "wond'ring in the night" part. The intense, driving arrangement along with the incomplete melody give this track a creepy, tragic feeling which I find really enthralling.


This is from an odd bootleg-ish compilation with no real track information given. The first volume of this series was okay but sounded like it was mastered directly from the audio track of old adult films. The sound quality and selection on this volume is much better. My best guess is that these are sound library recordings that may or may not have actually appeared in adult films. Anyone know the real artist or source of this track?

There are many memorable cuts on this soundtrack, and I essentially picked this because it's the longest. Anyway, Komeda's score is perfect for the film -- humorous maybe but definetly very, very creepy.

This song is cute, jittery and even just a bit creepy. Teague Cullen is brilliant.

It seems kind of creepy at first, because the guy is talking about jessica simpson, but it is sweet and funny and it kind of captures how individuals relate to celebrities.

The perfect theme to Roman Polanski's underrated comic horror film, The Fearless Vampire Killers. With stacked vocal harmonies, suggesting the background singers at some sort of Bulgarian black mass, floating on bat wings over a very jazzy rhythm section, this song is, at once, very creepy and very funny. I have long believed that Siouxsie and The Banshees came into existence entirely due this influence of this track. (Play it back to back with "Switch" or "Israel" or "Cascade" sometime, and you'll see what I mean.) Stereolab likewise. Broadcast or Goldfrapp could do a brilliant cover of it.

I like the beat of this song and the vocals. The lyrics are also very creepy and odd.

The B-52's were one of several late-'70s bands for which there was no real category. With their modified surf guitar sound, their thrift-shop fashion sense, and their jokey demeanor, they certainly weren't in the rock & roll mainstream, but they exhibited none of punk's sneering rebelliousness or musical aggression, either � the only anarchy that seemed to interest the B-52's was of the sartorial variety. "Rock Lobster" was the first B-52's song to catch popular attention, and it's easy to see why. The minimalist guitar lick is like a beach-bum's rendition of the James Bond theme, the one-note organ ostinato complements it perfectly, and Fred Scheider's campy sprechgesang jumps out at you immediately. Yet despite the song's self-consciously weird texture and silly lyrics about earlobes falling off and communal towel coordination, there's a thread of darkness weaving through it. Make no mistake � this is not a song with hidden meaning lurking below the surface. But its surface is a little more complicated than it seems to be at first. For one thing, it's almost seven minutes long, and it does start to drag toward the end. Right when it does, you notice the mood getting darker � Schneider delivers lines about "having fun" and "baking in the sun" in a hoarse croak, and the guitar starts sounding repetitive in a slightly creepy way. Suddenly you realize that the whole song has been in a minor key, and as Schneider shouts and the guitar barks out its angular riff over and over, you start to wonder if maybe there's some kind of commentary going on here. But then Kate Pierson's angelic voice comes in with a surprisingly pretty falling harmony part that can only be described as a descant, which repeats several times, gradually paring itself down to a single phrase, and abruptly the song is over. The whole song ends up being a goofy party confection with a slightly crunchy center � a pretty satisfying overall flavor combination.
(AMG)

Kenny Rogers provides quite the haunting lead vocal on this track. The jaunty drums and choir vocals only enhance the creepiness.

This gorgeously ominous ditty seems to borrow [intentionally?] more than a little from The Creatures' ode to alcoholic decadence "2nd Floor", but even by Siouxsie and Budgie's standards this is a grim little number. Sort of the title track to the LP - "Witching hour...soft power", the chorus goes - this song evidences the group's successful movement away the explicit influences of The Human League/Fad Gadget/Soft Cell/etc. toward a sort of synth-heavy post-punk along the lines of The Scars, Tuxedomoon, Family Fodder and/or The Banshees' "Kaleidoscope" LP. The melody is beautiful, and the lyrics - full of images of monster glamour girls nightclubbing the rest of world to death - are creepy as fuck.

This is a really stunning Brazilian take on 'Midnight Sun' - a really haunting song written by Lionel Hampton. It starts with a creepy, ornate string arrangement and Sylvia's vocal in Portuguese is stunning. The whole album is great.

This plays during a very creepy/hot sex scene, go figure, from David Lynch's "Lost Highway". The song isn't on the soundtrack and I had to hunt it down seperately.

The mixture of the female singer's flowing voice with the slow guitar, following a step behind, is soothing and gorgeous.

It is a love song but one of sitting lost and alone "at the breakers" waiting for either love to return or to "lie with death, my bride"

Morricone seems to have taken quite a few pages from Komeda's score for "Rosemary's Baby" here for the soundtrack to this Dario Argento serial killer movie. This track features some creepy heavy breathing, cascading dissonant piano notes, and some of the scariest "la-la-la"-ing ever committed to wax. I've never seen the movie, but based on the record, I'm pretty certain that it would scare the hell out of me.

Post-punk "pop" at its most gorgeous/baroque/bewilderingly extreme - and the perfect introduction to the God-like genius of Alan Rankine and the late/great singer Billy Mackenzie. A four car-pile-up between Roxy Music (circa "For Your Pleasure"), Bowie (circa "Heroes"), Scott Walker's "Scott 3" and Kraftwerk's "The Man Machine", (with King Tubby and Shirley Bassey acting as ambulance attendants), this song is both empty and lush, creepy and hilarious, ice-cold and almost embarrassingly emotional. I have loved/lived/died by this song for almost two decades, and I still can't begin to tell you what its about. It's like something from outer space - like so many of the greatest pop songs are.

Lounge lizards rarely get more reptilian than this. Another brilliant example of Ferry�s cover mad, song-stylist solo work outside of Roxy Music in the early to mid 1970�s � totally rethinking some well-known standard, yet grasping something intrinsic about the song�s core. Here he gives the tune just the hint of a Philly-soul groove, and keeps the production/arrangement as open/eerie as an empty parking garage. Very sexy, and more a little creepy � its like being hit on by the ghost of Bela Lugosi in the toilet of a disco in 1975.