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"PERKINS, William (1555-1602)
Discourse of the damned art of witchcraft In
The Workes of that famous and worthy minister of Christ in the Universitie of Cambridge, Mr William Perkins.
London : Printed at London by John Leggatt, printer to the
University of Cambridge, 1616-1618.

Perkins was a prominent English demonologist and widely regarded Puritan preacher, who's Discourse was published posthumously in 1608. Like several other witch believers such as Henry More and Henry Hallywell, he was a fellow of Christ's College, Cambridge. A primary English authority on witchcraft, Perkins ignored the work of the European demonologists, basing his work almost exclusively on the Bible.

The book is divided into seven chapters covering true and false miracles, the league between Satan and a witch, divination, good witches, and the discovery and punishment of witches. It was influential throughout the 17th century because of its distinctions between false and uncertain signs of witchcraft, presumptions of guilt, and just and sufficient proofs."

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OK, so I think I might finally be over the technological hump that is the home computer. Hopefully, baring sudden and malicious acts of a technically-minded god, I should be back to something approaching a normal posting schedule. And as for Mr. Eurasian Spam merchant who keeps choking the shit out of my comments section w/ his peculiar brand of feel-good “Engrish”, well…seeing as how I can’t rightly shanghais a skiff to, uh, Shanghais and break a butterfly sword off in his/her ass, then I guess I have no choice but to moderate my comments from now on. Don’t worry though, in the interests of commerce I will continue to post the vitriolic comments of crackpot hippies who, in the spirit of brotherhood, wish me dead. In the meantime, I got two special Halloween mixes commin’ your way. Enjoy

Signed,
The Managment

Warning: this Post is presented in Hypno-Vista (Whatever the hell that means)!

First off, given American International Picture's (See: previous post) illustrious legacy of jamming two sub-par movies together as a package deal, these two features just really don’t fit. Headless Ghost is more of a ‘Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow’- like comedy and Horrors of the Black Museum is the greatest giallo film that neither Argento nor Fulchi made. Add to the fact that both films hail from 59’, a social period remembered more for space-age terror and giant bugs then subtlety, and you can begin to see why a promotional record featuring a vocal group jam (passe’ even by 1959’s standards) perhaps wasn’t the best advertising move. I mean, have you ever heard of either of these movies? I didn’t think so.

That not to say the record is a lemon. On the contrary, I think it plays particularly loose with it’s accaplella nuttiness. Pair this w/ a copy of ‘Attack of the Giant Leeches’ on AIP records (or AIR) and you got yerself the cream of the Samuel Z. Arkoff's corny crop.



As far as Halloween is concerned, there sure ain’t a more haunted notion then a Ghost who can’t get no head….wait, I think I may have misunderstood the assignment.

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Headless Ghost - Nightmares

(Oooh I'm Scared) of the Horrors of the Black Museum - Nightmares

DeadBoy XXIII

A Bob for All Seasons...

For those of you familiar w/ American International Pictures and the (misunderstood) genius of effects artist Paul Blaisdell, here is a great documentary about the legendary Halloween exploits of super-fan / sometimes swingin' ape Mr. Bob Burns. Burns threw the biggest most elaborate haunted attractions in his quiet California suburb in the 70's, so much so that the police were forced to shut him down at the behest of concerned citizen who shall henceforth known as joy-killing ass-clowns. Check out his story in installments all through October, and for Christ's sake, take some notes will ya?

http://www.bobburnshollywoodhalloween.com

Blues for the RedBoy presents: She's A Haunted Betty Boop!

Made this mix with my own two hands for a certain Sister who, at the time, was as blue as a robin’s egg. Hopefully it did the trick and lifted her outta her doldrums. With a little bit of re-purposing, I’m sending this out to all those peculiar chicks and the men who go gooey for their ghoulish antics. See, behind every man is a good woman (or, if you are a smooth operator, several), though one cannot necessarily guarantee that that woman is not holding a carving knife or a spool of piano wire. Face it fellas, these witches keep you on your toes, if not by virtue of the rope they got slung around your neck, then by that weird whammy they got workin’ day in/day out. There isn’t much we as hot-blooded beasts wouldn’t do for a shot at that cauldron they got bubblin' between their knees, but don’t be fooled fellas…you are not in control. You may think you got the upper hand, but you are just one muttered hex away form frog-city. Give a spin and celebrate these weird sisters, warts and all, but do it with a rosary on your lips and your back to the wall, lest you wind up in the soup (literally)

You Are My Girl – Three Stooges

I can only assume this is not thee Three Stooges, however, there may just be at least one self-styled ‘fake Shemp’ involved in the production and execution. Cool tune about the endearing qualities of a monstrously ugly fiend who moonlights as a card-carrying member of the fairer sex.

Miss Frankenstein – George Jackson

In keeping w/ a general theme of skin-deep scarification, here is a mystery tune from 62’ about a butta faced Philly who requires a pork chop be tied around her spindly neck to facilitated some doggy love. Featuring ex-members of Baltimore Maryland’s vocal sensation the Plants. It’ll grow on you (Get it!?)

Vampira - Bobby Bare

This 1958’ cut by Ohio C&W legend Bobby Bare (aka. All American Boy Billy Parsons) has made the rounds for awhile now, but as anybody from Jersey knows, there is somethin’ to be said for “Two inch nails, micro waist, w/ a pale white feline face...” Any self-deprecating ghoul w/ “Inclination eyebrows” is free to suck my…neck, any time. Released on Challenge records subsidiary ‘Jackpot Records’, today might just be your lucky day (Get it!?)

Tombstone # 9 – Murray Schaff

Wanna hear something’ weird? While scheduling this post I realized that this test pressing was cut 53 years ago today (Don't beleive me? Check the fine print). Coincidence…I think not! Perhaps it is an ill omen? The lesson at hand: don’t give in, fellas! Even though these womens got the hard sell and are willing to give out free samples, you may just wind up at the business end of a post hole digger. According to particulars this tune was slated for release on King records, though I have never come across a copy proper. Anyone?

Queen of Halloween – Bily Snel

Here’s an obscure two-sider (see later posting for the flip) outta NY state which has eluded most comp-cobblers for awhile. Most of the copies that turn up are new-old stock, so chances are these beauties have been living out their existence in a tradesman’s closet. Good thing I am not above accepting anonymous charity.


Draculena – Aaron McNeil

This 1964 soul styling is in the same sanguinary vein (pun intended) as the above mentioned Bobby Bare disc. Though of a decidedly later comportment, ‘Draculena’ throws a littler Voodoo into the mash w/ some Marie Laveau inspired femme fatality. Hell, I'd follow Draculena to her grave.

Headless Nightmare - Villagers

A weird folksy number from 63’ concerning an ex-girlfriend who earned her ‘post’ status by getting her noggin’ clipped off by a speeding train. As can be expected, such a death rarely results in eternal rest, and more often than not insures a white-clad specter swinging its missing extremity down the tracks for all eternity. Get some new shoes, Daddy. Step on it!


Witch Girl – Ron Walden

One of my current favorites, Witch Girl has been piloting her broom under my radar for some time now, though how that’s possible w/ such a trashy solo is beyond me. Say what you will, but the devil knows how to pick them, I just wish Ole' Slue-foot could furnish me with some more info on this killer track.

Vampires Ghost – Jimmy Bowers

Never trust the ghost of a vampire who “Plays Cards Like a Man” not only will you loose your shirt, but you are bound to loose your white-bread soul in the process, and there aint nothin’ a self-respecting vamp likes more that white bread soul w/ a little dab of mayo and a barrel pick - no garlic, please.

So there you have it folks. If’un you wanna get down to brass tacks w/ yer baby, just slide this mix in, get down on one hoof, take her by the tentacle and tell her you’d marry/murder her all over again. Remember, you can always buy cemetery plots by the pair, and there ain’t nothin’ deeper than his and her graves, dig?

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Blues for the RedBoy Presents: She’s a Haunted Betty Boop!

P.S. Stay wood kid, stay wood!

DeadBoy XXII

Curently Reading...

The House with a Clock in it's Walls:

"Lewis always dreamed of living in an old house full of secret passageways, hidden rooms, and big marble fireplaces. And suddenly, after the death of his parents, he finds himself in just such a mansion--his Uncle Jonathan's. When he discovers that his big friendly uncle is also a wizard, Lewis has a hard time keeping himself from jumping up and down in his seat. Unfortunately, what Lewis doesn't bank on is the fact that the previous owner of the mansion was also a wizard--but an evil one who has placed a tick-tocking clock somewhere in the bowels of the house, marking off the minutes until the end of the world. And when Lewis accidentally awakens the dead on Halloween night, the clock only ticks louder and faster. Doomsday draws near--unless Lewis can stop the clock!"

Anybody for Peanuckle?

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out...

That little limerick got a lot of play when I was a lad; any excuse for a toe-headed boy to extol the virtues of gangrene and putrescence (Is that almonds I smell?). Ever poke a dead animal w/ a stick? Same thing. Surprisingly, the rhyme itself, in all its permutations, owes less to the schoolyard kick-ball dugout and more to musings of colonial era levity, having first appeared in an excerpt from Matthew Gregory Lewis' 1796 novel 'The Monk' entitled ALONZO THE BRAVE, AND FAIR IMOGINE:

"All present then uttered a terrified shout;
All turned with disgust from the scene.
The worms, They crept in, and the worms, They crept out,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,
While the Spectre addressed Imogine."

While 'Alonzo' may indeed be the first instance of the couplet's publication, I suspect this little ditty really got legs under it with the introduction of the folk song 'There Was An Old Woman of Skin and Bones', first published in the early 1800's and still popular amongst school children today, be it in a much more harmless form:

"On looking up, on looking down,
She saw a dead man on the ground;
And from his nose unto his chin,
The worms crawled out, the worms crawled in."

A foundation having clearly been established, what still remains uncertain is how these seemingly innocuous ballads gave rise to the incarnation we all know and love today, otherwise known as the 'Hearse Song'. While we may never know the particulars of it's authorship , be it cautionary tale (never laugh when the hearse goes by for you may be the next to die), or a little slice o Victorian death fetishism (Puss oozes out like a whipping cream-and me without a spoon), I can say w/ some certainty who waxed the ultimate version of this childhood favorite:

Born in 1942 to Kermit Knutson, Terence Blaine Knutson , or Terry Teene, began taking piano lessons at four years of age and later sang in the high school choir. A local DJ, hearing him sing in church, suggested that he audition to perform on a local television program. He performed on TV for eight weeks in a row and put together the band "Terry and the Pirates".

In 1960, in Clovis, New Mexico, he cut recordings of his first two songs, "Just Wait Til I Get You Alone" and "Orchids Mean Good-bye", under record producer, Norman Petty. These songs were released on a 45 single by Warwick records.

When the Fireballs—a rock group with which he was performing at the time—disbanded, Terry began a second parallel career as a clown. He has performed under the names of "ToBo the Clown" and "Clownzo"; and was one of the creators and originators (with George Voorhees) of the costume, likeness, name and character of Ronald McDonald, one of the world's most recognizable trademark characters.

You’ll notice the reference to the song title ‘Curse of the Hearse’ as opposed to just ‘The Hearse’. Near as I can tell this is a later 60’s press of the same song on the ‘Iowa’ label b/w a fuzzed out psych tune more in keeping with the times. Not a bad cut by any name.

So when you’re sitting down in Mickey D’s w/ your crispy snack wrap, pulling hard on the guar gum which they pawn off as a vanilla shake, try not to think of it as puss or some other bodily fluid associated with death. Just enjoy it. You never know when it might be your last. Just sit back and let this little jingle crawl in your ears and out your...well, you get the idea.

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The Hearse - Terry Teen

DeadBoy XXI

Shelac from the House of Shlock!

I know, I know; they are fragile as all get out, and unless you are extremely blessed to find some new old store stock (i.e. stepped in shit), they sound like said previously mention shit run over twice. But if music is 'soul', then the humble 78 can only be described as the bones of music. Hell, there is even an organic component to the 78 in the guise of the humble shellac beetle, thus making 78s the fossilized remains of the Pleistocene era of music. Funny that even in those primordial times, there was still a novelty to be had from being scared.



First up on BFTRB's month long Halloween spectacular is an early celluloid curiosity in the guise of a dramatic reading of 1908's Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. Widely believed to be one of the first horror movies ever produced (the first being 1896's Le Manoir Du Diable, directed by French film visionary Georges Melies), director Otis Turner's faithful interpretation of Richard Mansfield's popular stage play (Itself based on the Robert Louis Stevenson novella) is an early experiment in Victorian theatricality and abnormal psych, or at least it might be. Trouble is nobody has ever actually seen it. And unless somebody unearths a vinegar-choked copy out of a box of garage sale porn loops, then you'll just have to make do with this ambitious, if not absurdly melodramatic recording of Jekyll's transformation scene and Edward Hyde’s impending death.

This recording pretty much matches word for word the Mansfield play, and as the source material for Otis's screen adaptation, should give a pretty good indication of how the transformation scene and climax would have played out in the 1908 feature.

There allegedly exists an Edison Cylinder of such a scene recorded by one Len Spencer. Although yet to be authenticated, if the existence of this material were to prove true, then this would make the Jekyll/Hyde 78 (itself, uncredited) a later, though still extremely early re-press promoting the new medium of recorded sound (if you have ever owned cylinders, then you know how much of a pain in the dick they can be). Either way, it is a fascinating look at the fading influence of Victorian culture with regard to the emerging horror market.

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Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (Transformation Scene & Dramatic Talking)

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Note: Dig this surviving clip of the 1912 adaptation of Jekyll / Hyde. Play the two together a have yourself a ‘Dark Side of Oz’ experience.

Next up in the unbreakable / breakable category we have the original version {citation needed} of a perennial BFTRB favorite, David Gardner’s the Mad Witch, or, in this incarnation, the Old Mad Witch.

Lord knows how sportscaster Mel Allen got his name (and voice) all over this weird disc, but I did not even know it existed until a tip from ole’ Devil Dick; in itself a funny story which I’m sure he would love to elaborate on as it paints me in a shitty light (Sorry DD, but time waits for no man). Like Hernando Hideaway (Oley!), ‘witch’ enjoys some heavy castanets and alto sax and though it has a decidedly more mambo / samba flavor to this 1947 cut, it’s cool to hear an earlier take on a Halloween Favorite.

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Old Mad Witch - Mel Allen

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Stay tuned the rest o’ the month for some ridiculously juvenile Halloween garbage both here and over at the Devil’s Music, including a forthcoming joint Halloween throw down. It’ll be a hoot! {Citation needed}

This is Sparta!?

Hey folks. Posting has been a lil' thin here @ BFTRB on account of a bunch of shit nobody really gives a hang about, so what say we get on with it, shall we?

There are few dolorus doldrums you can't be jerked outta by the liberal application of some bratty frat-ass rock. I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't invested after hearin' the lyric "I can shimmy", follwed by, 'Yeah, well so can Jimmie, but can you waddle?" It's like, "You can shimmy? Big fuckin' deal. The waddle is where it's at!" Not to say I totally agree w/ their choice of gyration, but the Spartans imply confidence, and that's admirable...Now, onto the meat of the matter.

Go figure; the Spartans were actually somebodies, featuring amoungst their ranks , guitarist / producer Jeff Barry, whose writting credits include:

"Doo Wah Diddy," "Chapel of Love", "Baby I Love You", "Be My Baby", "Leader of the Pack", "Then He Kissed Me", "Hanky Panky", "Chapel of Love", "Da Doo Ron Ron", "Then He Kissed Me", "River Deep-Mountain High", "How'd We Ever Get This Way", "Montego Bay", "Heavy Makes You Happy", "Sugar Sugar" "Jingle Jangle", "Lay A Little Lovin' On Me", and "I Honestly Love You".

He also wrote "Tell Laura I Love Her", but we won't hold that against him.

Note: Dig the response scribbled on the label. What a little jerk!

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Can You Waddle? - Spartans

Can You Waddle? (Instrumental) - Spartans

Shameless Self-Promotion 09/19/09

It's the Swinginest!!!

Wanna hear some downright shitty Rock and or Roll (Yes, I mean that as a complement), then head on over to Kogar's Jungle Juice and give a big ole' welcome to the crap-flingin' foundling of New England's own illustrious combo The Monkey Butlers.

Low-Fi or Die!!!

"Never get caught with a dead girl or a live boy."

Less than a day after Ted kennedy's death and already Sen. Robert Byrd has suggested naming the failing healthcare reform bill after that bloated hack. I suggest naming it the Mary Jo Kopechne Memorial Healthcare bill so we can bury it at the bottom of a lake too.

Camelot my boney white ass.

(Where is) The Soul of a Man?

Courtesy of: Texas Psychedelic Rock.

Due to some diligent work on the part of music scholar Jack Ortman, Beaumont Texas historians believe they have found the final resting place of sanctified blues singer Blind Willie Johnson. Plans are to erect a fitting monument in the pauper's field in which Johnson is intered by late 2010.

Next time you are in Beaumont, stop on by and pay your respects to the man that, for all intents and purposes gave the 'Power Chord' to the world.

The Wildroote of All Evil?

Well, this is a first…

Went to a local pawn/junk shop to peruse some mammoth piles of wax. Upon depositing a stack at the counter, the cromags runnin’ the joint proceeded to tell me that each 45 is five beans, scratches, cracks and warps be damned (!?!?). Tuff pill to swaller, but I managed to pair down to some choice cuts and kicked the rest back into the garbage pile from whence they came.

Long story short- fast forward a couple o’ days to a subsequent visit and as soon as I walk in the door the inbred son they got slavin’ over his Gameboy lays it on me. The exchange went somethin’ like this:

“Excuse me sir. One of the records you bought the other day is worth twenty bucks.’

“Yeah, and…”

“Well…I only charged you five bucks for it.

“Soooooo….”

“Sooooo… are you gonna pay us the other fifteen dollars (!?!?).”

Needless to say, I did not pay them the balance, though I did have some pretty choice words for that pudgy little bastard and his harridan, wall-eyed mother.

Id say that’s a bridge I smell burnin’, if it weren’t for the fact that I just cut my nose off to spite my face. Oh well; even a record hoarding misanthrope has to set a store by his pride. Anyhoo, on the plus side, I pretty much took those bastards to the cleaners on the stuff I did sneak past and in celebration I give you a twenty dollar record graciously donated to the collection for a fraction of the price by a bunch of money-grubbing ass-clowns. Behold, straight from Wall Township New Jersey, the heavy soul stilings of the Invaders, featuring their hit song (Citation needed) Wildroote!!! Don’t say I never gave you nothin’.

-RB

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Wildroote - Invaders

O Lord - Invaders

RedBoy XX

Spinning-Backfist Combo!

Here's two knuckle sandwiches to loosen your teeth on this otherwise inauspicious day. First up is that funky board-breaker known the world over as 'Karate' from Harrisburg PA's Emperors. This tune actually caused a local stir in Pennsytucky, even charting in 67'. For a quarter, who am I to argue?



And because I know you'll only be hungry for more chop-saki in under an hour, here's Jerry O's Karate-Boo-Ga-Loo to even out this 'Dim Mak'.

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Karate - Emperors

Karate Boo Ga Loo - Jerry O

Being Young Enough to Dream & Old Enough to feel Disillusioned is a Painful Thing (Apparently)

Just getting back into the swing of things after a little vacation. First up is some crazy-ass outsider poetry for DD over & the Devil's Music. This record is right up your alley DD (see: depressing & boring). Glad that Chastity gave this disc the EP treatment, otherwise I could scarcely fill up these extraneous grooves / fullers w/ blood; sawing through my wrists w/ this eternal bummer of a platter...

Remember kids, It's "Down the Road", not "Across the Street".

Gold Standard / It's Hershey or Bars - ???

In Memorium / Afterthoughts - ???

Adjusting - ???