Well, let me tell ya, those horror movie soundtrack vinyl things, they ain’t for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. My old man, he used to say, “Girl, some sounds just ain’t right,” and I reckon he was talkin’ ’bout somethin’ like this.
Them fancy folks, they go on and on about “minor keys” and “tritone chords.” Don’t know nothin’ ’bout that, but I know what makes my skin crawl. It’s like when the wind howls through the cracks in the barn at night, only a whole lot louder and…well, just plain wrong.
They say happy music uses them “major keys.” Well, these here horror movie records, they ain’t happy, no sirree. They make you feel like somethin’s lurkin’ in the shadows, waitin’ to jump out and getcha. Like that time old Bessie’s cat got stuck in the well – the screamin’ and the scratchin’, it was awful.</ That's kinda what these records sound like, only…more.
- One time, I heard this record, somethin’ called “Halloween II.” Lord, have mercy! I swear, I thought the devil himself was in my livin’ room. The music was all jangly and screechy, like rusty hinges on a gate that ain’t been opened in a hundred years.
- And then there was this “Candyman” thing. Sounded like church bells gone crazy, all echoey and spooky. Gave me the shivers, it did. Made me think of that old abandoned church down the road, the one folks say is haunted.
But you know, some folks, they like bein’ scared. Goes against nature, if you ask me. But they say listenin’ to these records, it gets their blood pumpin’, makes ’em feel…alive, I guess. Like that time young Billy jumped off the roof of the toolshed with a bedsheet tied around his neck, thinkin’ he could fly. Fool boy almost broke his neck, but he sure felt somethin’.
These records, they ain’t just noise, though. I mean, somebody made this music, sat down and figured out how to make you feel like you’re about to be eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs. It’s…clever, in a twisted kinda way. Like how that old snake oil salesman used to charm the birds out of the trees, only he was sellin’ fake medicine and these folks are sellin’ fear.
They call it a “score,” I think. Like keepin’ track of how many chickens you got, only instead of chickens, it’s how many times your heart jumps outta your chest. And some folks, they collect these things. Spend good money on ’em, too. Horror movie vinyl, they call ’em. Essentials, some say. I say, if you got money to burn, buy yourself a good sturdy pair of boots instead. At least them boots’ll keep your feet dry.
I saw these records in town once, all lined up in a store window. Pictures of monsters and ghouls on the covers, blood drippin’ everywhere. Made me wanna cross myself and head straight to church. But there was folks in there, diggin’ through the stacks, grinnin’ like they just found a twenty dollar bill in the street. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.
But I tell ya, if you’re gonna listen to these here horror movie records, make sure you ain’t alone. And keep the lights on. And maybe have a good, strong cup of coffee handy. Or somethin’ stronger. ‘Cause these sounds, they can get inside your head, make you see things that ain’t there. Like that time I thought I saw my dead husband sittin’ at the kitchen table, eatin’ breakfast. Turned out it was just the cat, but Lord, it gave me a fright.
So, if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ to terrify the bejesus outta ya, go ahead and buy yourself some of them horror movie soundtrack vinyl records. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Some sounds, they just ain’t right. And some things, once you hear ’em, you can’t ever unhear ’em. And that, my friend, is the truth.
You go lookin’ for the “best” ones, the “most terrifying,” like they got some kinda prize for scarin’ yourself the most. I seen ’em online, all fancy lookin’ and sayin’ “carefully crafted.” Crafted? Like a good quilt? I reckon they “crafted” them sounds straight from a nightmare. And if you can’t find what you want, they got folks called “Mondo” navigatin’ the “pop culture chaos.” Chaos is right. Sounds like a whole lotta fuss over somethin’ that’ll give you nightmares.
And you know, folks get so worked up, all that “fear” and “anxiety” and “adrenaline.” Like runnin’ from a bear, but you’re just sittin’ in your chair. Seems foolish to me, payin’ good money to feel bad. But they build up collections of it, like they collectin’ stamps or somethin’. They get that adrenaline rush, just from listenin’. I get a rush when I see a snake in the garden, and I don’t go lookin’ for snakes on purpose.
So you go ahead, add them sounds to your collection, if that’s what you want. Just remember what I told ya. Keep the lights on, lock the doors, and maybe say a prayer or two. ‘Cause once that music starts, you’re on your own.
