Andrew Listens to... Monsters
A spooky season exploration of songs about the things that go bump in the night.
Fall is a great season. It’s got the autumnal leaves and the apple picking and the last brightness of the sun before the darkness of winter. But for me, one of the best parts of the season is that for the month of October, I get to sink into Spooky Time. Now I was not spookier than the next kid in my youth, but I read Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark under the covers and dreamed about Bradbury’s Halloween Tree. And when I went off for college, I made it a personal goal to watch as many of the classic horror movies as I could from 1001 Films to Watch before you Die. I’m really interested in how artists use monsters to reflect back to us the anxieties and desires of our time. The songs for this playlist all touch on monsters and the myriads of ways they are used by songwriters.
Andrew listens to…Monster Music (Linked to Spotify)
Dawson’s Christian by Vixy & Tony
A Tale they won’t Believe by Captain Tractor
Take off your Shoes by Delta Rae
Teeth on a String by Stick and Poke
Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing Devil
Tam Lin (Child Ballad 39) by Anais Mitchell
Ghost Story by Charming Disaster
Dearly Departed by Shakey Graves
If We Were Vampires by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
The List
“Dawson’s Christian” is in some ways a classic ghost story, in the style of The Mary Celeste or The Dutchman. A shipping vessel attacked by pirates and saved out of the mist by the undead vengeance of a ghost ship. And the song maintains some of that maritime sound, especially in Vixy & Tony’s cover of the 1989 original by Duane Elms, with the lush cello and soaring fiddle adding to the ambiance. But what makes this song special for me is that it’s a work of filk (f-i-l-k) music, blending folk sounds with the fandoms of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. It seems to me that the language of space travel is already steeped in naval jargon and culture, so the application of the 19th century ghost ship mythos to the future seems apt. This is a fun song to sing along to (which Alex and I do regularly in the car) for the strong chorus and the iconic imagery. The line at the end, “Then she turned as if to leave us, but instead began to fade/ First her hull, and then her bulkheads, as we trembled there afraid/ But there are twenty men who'll swear with me, the last to slip from view/ Were the bones of Jayme Dawson and his crew/ Dead white bones of Jayme Dawson and his crew” is just so haunting. In terms of the use of ghosts in this song, it is the story of unfinished business and dedication to the great expanse (see: Davy Jones). If a life has been led in battles at sea (or in space), then it seems beyond death there can only be more. While Jayme is certainly a sympathetic character, his choice to make “his bargain with some power of the night/ That he sold his soul to win his final fight” we must also wonder if it was worth it.
The second song of the playlist is another straightforward horror/monster trope, the cannibal. Captain Tractor is a celt rock band with a strong dedication to storytelling, and in “A Tale They Won’t Believe” a band of felons escape their prison in Australia and head into the bush with nothing but their wits to keep them alive. But the six begin to twindle one by one as the threat of starvation sinks in. The protagonist counts down their deaths and their consumption (“Chew the meat and hold it down”) at the hands of the “bastard with the ax” until only two remain and the protagonist kills the bastard in his sleep. All of this is horror fodder enough, but the real moment of horror for me is at the end, as our protagonist sits back in prison listening to some young fool talking about break out, “And he looked a rather tasty one, I just could not help it”. An origin story of a cannibal killer is just not something I expected to jam out to, but this song is a banger. When we see a monster, how often do we wonder how they got that way? Was their descent rapid or gradual? Would we have done the same in their shoes?
In 2021 Delta Rae released The Dark, a sister album to The Light, both of which were crowdfunded in the fifth biggest music Kickstarter campaign in history. The band’s biggest hit at that point was a southern gothic horror anthem, “"Bottom of the River”. The Dark picks up on that song's horror-tinged aesthetic and adds to that a profound sense of political unease. This blend of fears is best encapsulated in “Take Off Your Shoes”, where simple rituals of respect, like taking off your shoes when entering a house, marks the difference between the good people and the werewolves in the street. And if this sounds like simple folk tradition, Delta Rae joins that with the subtle comment that the werewolves are dangerous because when they “ say something enough/… people think it's true” which sounds less like lycanthropy and more like the politicians that Delta Rae protested against. (Sidenote: Delta Rae have not shied away from publicly supporting BLM, abortion care, and progressive causes, even at the expense of their Nashville audiences). In this song, werewolves are aggressive predators, but also changelings, bringing to mind the “wolf in sheep’s clothing”. In the face of such violence, Delta Rae tells us to focus on “the little things we do/ When you come to my house/ Take off your shoes”. In a moment when fear fills every news minute, what is more brave than to focus on the little things?
I was asked once what band I’m saddest about never seeing perform live, and the answer is the witchy west coast folk duo based out of Vancouver, BC, Stick and Poke. A lot of their songs sound vaguely unsettling, but none more so than “Teeth on a String”, which is just a very unsettling title of a song. In the song, a young fox girl is seduced and abused by a wolf. This song was written about one of the duo, Lauren Eliza,’s ex-partners and the unhealthy nature of their relationship. She stated in a 2016 tumblr post: ‘I never understood why my abusive ex was so proud to have “Teeth on a String” written about him, it highlights how poorly I was treated and how toxic the relationship was.’ Using the language of fairy tale violence (curiosity killed the cat, said the wise owl), this song highlights the monsters in our midst and how we wreck violence against ourselves to get out of their clutches (“Now I'm screaming bloody murder how did I get myself into this mess?/I will rip my teeth out one by one and sew them onto my dress”) The song ends with a haunting line from the wolf, “Remember me when you sing” because sometimes the monsters don’t know that they’re monstrous AND that does not make them any less of monsters. It’s a great song.
The fifth song on this playlist, “Farewell Wanderlust” by The Amazing Devil was a discovery from my 2024 music project (Week 9). The Amazing Devil make epic bardic music and the duo of Joey Batey and Madeleine Hyland write songs that are as much theater as they are songcraft. “Farewell Wanderlust” is a dense, richly textured song that is difficult to parse. But roughly it tells the story of the demons, perhaps literal perhaps figurative, that terrorize us while seducing us.
“You don't know it yet, but I'm the cupid of things
That you just didn't get, that you struggled to say
I'm the saint of the paint that was left in the pot
I'm your angel ellipsis, your devil of dots
Every time that you fumble, I'm the laugh from the back
When you think about him, my wings start to flap
When you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floor
And when you lie there awake every night, love, I soar
In my post Christian worldview, I am much more frightened of the devils in my head than any literal demonic figure because I am my own worst enemy. In my long history of working through my bipolar, I often feel like it is a Faustian devil in my life, bringing me out and to heights of joy and energy, but also to the brink of destruction. The Devil Wanderlust in this song is the same, “you've been ever so kind/ You brought me through this darkness but you left me here behind”. Perhaps if I had a different life, I could make a similar commentary about drugs, but whatever the devil is in your life, the highs and lows are always on you. And the horror is being left alone with the consequences.
The next two songs deal with the concept of monster f*cking. The first comes from the Child Ballad based on the Scottish folktale of “Tam Lin”, performed by Anaïs Mitchell & Jefferson Hamer. In the tale, Janet, a young noblewoman, escapes from her father’s house to Carterhaugh among the roses green, where she encounters the young fey Tam Lin. After a brief courtship over who gets to be there, he “took her by the hand/Took her by the sleeve/ And he has laid this lady down”. She returns to her father’s house and soon discovers that she is pregnant. Cornered by her father to tell him of the baby’s lineage, she opts to return to Carterhaugh to seek an herbal abortion. Tam Lin returns and asks her to stop, to which she replies that, “I’ll not bear the little babe/ That you have got with me-/ If he were to a gentleman/ And not a wild shade/ I’d rock him all the winter’s night/And all the summer’s day” In her strength, she helps Tam Lin regain his humanity and all live happily ever after. But in this case, the monster of the Wild Shade or Fey Prince really represents the forces of patriarchy that control women. Janet cannot control her destiny, own her own location and body, or raise a child without needing to take on the father. But in this tale, Janet chooses her own mate and her bravery allows her to conquer his curse. In a cool inversion of the trope of the rapist monster, the story of Tam Lin shows that f*cking the monster might be the most freeing option.
Next on the playlist comes “Ghost Story” by Charming Disaster. The song starts with a young woman at the funeral of her husband, being brought casseroles and thoughts and prayers, but who is hoping that her “widow’s weeds” hide “the marks of love my lover leaves”. At first, you might be forgiven for thinking that she had just moved on, but instead we are told, “Since the day they told me he was gone/ Haunts me faithfully from dusk till dawn/Hear him whisper sweetly in my ear/ Can’t you see we got a good thing here?” She is explicitly sleeping with the ghost of her husband. But I think what makes this interesting is that, unlike the ghosts of the Christian, the husband’s unfinished business is exactly the opposite of who he was in life. He was a jealous man, a wanton man, a brawler and a dualist. But on his death, he devotes himself to his wife, who he neglected in life. I think a lot of married people, when saying their vows, consider what is meant by “till death do us part”. And I think Charming Disaster captures a fantasy that many of us have that even in death, we’d still stay by our lover’s side. This is not a scary ghost story, but a rather sweet one.
People can have ghosts and places can have ghosts, but in “Dearly Departed” by Shakey Graves, we learn about the ghost of a relationship. The motif of the ghost is applied to their sexual history (“You used to catch me in your bed sheets just rattlin your chains”) but in the light of day, “When the sun came up, we had no place to hide/ And you had to tell your friends that my fangs were fake”. I love stomp and holler music, but don't often look to this genre for lyrical depth. Imagine my surprise when I took a deep dive into this song’s lyrics and discovered the nuanced line: “But even when one is dead and gone/ It still takes two to make a house a home/ Well I'm as lonesome as the catacombs/ I hear you call my name but no one's there/ Except a feeling in the air”. What do you do when the spark of a relationship has died, all of the mystery uncovered, and even the people we once were are past tense? Shakey Graves doesn’t give us an answer, but maybe the ghosts of relationships past just continue to haunt us.
The last song on this playlist was another discovery from last year’s album project (Week 2), the phenomenal “If We Were Vampires” by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. This was actually the first song I thought about when putting together this playlist because of the idea of what if we were the monsters, how would that change us? In this song, the facet of vampirism that is the topic of interest is immortality. The chorus introduces us to the tragedy that is knowing that even in the best, most loving relationship, it will end in heartache because “It's knowing that this can't go on forever/… one day I'll be gone/ Or one day you'll be gone”. I’ve thought about this concept a lot (and it is the inspiration for my largest tattoo), but where Jason Isbell takes us is wondering if that tragedy could be averted if we were just immortal creatures. What if we could live our lives with our loves forever? But he doesn’t linger here long because he realizes quickly that if “death were a joke”, that “I wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand/ Maybe time running out is a gift/ I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift/And give you every second I can find/ And hope it isn't me who's left behind.” I think that’s what makes the vampire a monster in this song, not the blood sucking or the undeath, but rather the idea that a being like that could never know love. What if death, dying, heartbreak, pain are just what makes us human, what separates us from the monsters?
Thank you for going on this journey with me.
Next time: Andrew Listens to… Musicals
This is a series of songs that I have never ever heard. I really liked the stories. I especially liked the first song, Dawson's Christian. Again, I am amazed at the writing of the stories and especially the metaphors. I confess that I sometimes thought that the music got in the way of the stories---but that it just me. i have always been confused by "music". At times it gives me "feeling", but more often it is just confusing to the story. thanks for this series.