John Otteni

I made a mockumentary about hunting vampires

C.A.T.: The Evil One

Roky Erickson and the Aliens – The Evil One (1981)

Continuing “Classic Album Tuesdays: Halloween Edition” I give you this horror rock classic from cult favorite Roky Erickson. If you’re not familiar with Roky Erickson, I would highly recommend you read up on him or watch the excellent 2005 documentary You’re Gonna Miss Me. Otherwise here’s the short version…

Roky Erickson burst onto the scene in 1965 as the frontman and head songwriter of the Austin based rock band The 13th Floor Elevators. Penning the ‘60s classic, “You’re Gonna Miss Me” among others, Roky became a favorite among the garage rock circuit with his howling vocals and high energy performances. Trouble hit when Roky was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in 1968 and unwillingly subjected to electroshock therapy. It got worse.

In 1969, Roky was arrested in Austin for the possession of a single joint and pled insanity to avoid a ten-year prison sentence. He was sent to an Austin mental hospital where he stayed until 1974. Finding focus in the late ‘70s, Roky combined his love of horror and sci-fi with hard rock and formed Roky Erickson and the Aliens. The band recorded two overlapping EPs—that were later combined to make today’s album—produced by former Creedence Clearwater Revival bassist Stu Cook.

It feels odd to commemorate what was still a dark period in Erickson’s life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find the beauty in the darkness. The track “I Think of Demons” could be a hit single for a more prominent artist. Someone like a Billy Idol. Probably would help if it wasn’t about demons though, and it’s not the only song about demons.

The leadoff track “Two Headed Dog is a bonafide classic from Erickson. Using the artist’s well-tested technique of finding a powerful phrase or hook and then repeating it over and over again. “Two-headed dog, two-headed dog. I’ve been working in the Kremlin with a two-headed dog.” There are other words but this phrase is pounded into your head so hard and so often you’re not soon to forget it.

My personal favorite track is the Ben E. King flavored “I Walked with a Zombie” which contains no more than the words “I walked with a zombie. I walked with a zombie. I walked with a zombie last night.” It’s an oddly poignant number for such a silly b-movie hook. It just goes to show that even under all of Erickson’s crazy, there was still the soul of a talented songwriter trying to express himself.

Of course, it comes as no surprise that Erickson’s favorite subject is aliens. Around this time Erickson went as far as claiming he was an alien and that others wanted to harm him because of this fact. Erickson not long after became shut off from the world. He lived with his mother throughout the rest of the ‘80s and began a decades-long obsession with the mail, reading and collecting every piece of junk mail and writing back to chain letters.

Roky recorded sporadically throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s but it wasn’t until the mid-2000s that he got his life back on track. His brother sought to free him from his mother’s control. Roky started taking medication, got his driver’s license and started touring again. He even recorded a new album in 2010 with members of Okkervil River.

Roky has seen a great deal of light and darkness in life. The good news is he’s seen a great deal more light for the past decade or so and given us a lifetime of beautiful and powerful rock music. Thanks, Roky.

Favorite Tracks: “Click Your Fingers Applauding the Play,” “I Think of Demons,” “I Walked with a Zombie”

Shocktober Day 9: Kwaidan

Kwaidan (1964)

Kwaidan is like that film you watch in your Asian Cinema studies class in college. It takes a week to finish and afterward you’re assigned a ten-page paper addressing the theme of guilt in post-WWII Japan as represented in the film’s take on classic Japanese folklore. You read a film analysis book by a dork who sold one screenplay in 1982 (it was never produced), you Google images and examine the lighting and color, you watch and re-watch scenes to appreciate the sense of framing and how they use negative space. At the end of the grueling ordeal, you come to appreciate the film, but you never love it. At least I didn’t. Let’s find out why.

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Shocktober Day 8: Carnival of Souls

Carnival of Souls (1962)

Going into Shocktober, Carnival of Souls was my most anticipated film. Mainly because I was enamored with the backstory of the film. Herk Harvey was an average director/producer on industrial/educational films in the ’60s, until one day he drove by the abandoned Saltair Pavillon in Salt Lake City and was inspired. He pulled together every resource he had, raised $17,000 himself, was deferred another $13,000, took three weeks off of work and shot a movie in and around Kansas and Utah.

It’s Inspiring not just because of how Harvey made this film, but because of the kind of film he wanted to make. Carnival of Souls isn’t a “Jump-out-of-your-seat and say BOO!” movie. Nor is it a rubber suit monster movie. It’s a psychological drama about the thin line between life and death, and even though it doesn’t always work it’s admirable in the best way.

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Shocktober Day 6: Jigoku

Jigoku (1960)

If there’s any country that produces films that make me feel like utter shit, it’s Japan. You always hear about Japan being a “Shame society” where social order is kept by the reinforcement of guilt. If I’ve learned anything from watching Japanese horror films, I’ve learned this is 100% true. I don’t know how many Japanese ghost stories I’ve read or watched where the events of the film are thrust into motion after a horrible accident or regrettable decision is hidden by the film’s central character(s). These people usually learn their lesson by way of paranormal haunting or a supernatural curse. Or in the extreme case of Jigoku, GO TO HELL! *cue your favorite rock song containing the word “Hell”.

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C.A.T.: Wildflowers

Tom Petty – Wildflowers (1994)

In memory of Tom Petty, I have chosen Wildflowers as this week’s Classic Album Tuesday. Although it’s an album I haven’t been familiar with for long, it may already be my favorite of Petty’s prestigious catalog

Two weeks ago, I was watching a 2015 ELO concert on some descendant of MTV. MTV3? MTV 1/2? Where I watched it wasn’t important, rather it’s what followed the concert. Because in between regularly scheduled programming, the channel shows music videos. One of which, for whatever reason, was the music video for Tom Petty’s 1994 hit “You Don’t Know What it’s Like”. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard that song. It could have been ten years ago, it could have been twenty, but it opened my eyes and my ears to Tom Petty’s 1994 album Wildflowers.

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RIP Tom Petty

The great American rock star is a rare breed. Anyone can strum on a six string and sing a song about a girl. Or pose for pictures in tight pants with hair over their face. It takes a special person to rise above the superficial glitz and glamour of rock and roll. It takes a special person with the gift to share stories about love and loss and connect with people all over the world. A special person who in one moment can pen a lighter burning rock anthem and in another, a drunken ass-shaking sing-a-long. Losing Tom Petty isn’t losing a great musician, it’s losing a slice of Americana. There will be other rock stars, other rock songs, but there will only ever be one Tom Petty, and that’s heartbreaking.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers broke through at an odd time for music. Disco was on the rise as was punk. New Wave was still a few years out and Tom Petty didn’t fit in with the current crop of stadium rock darlings like Journey or Styx. Tom Petty’s music was simpler, shorter, more in tune with the rock and roll of yesteryear. He loved The Birds and The Beatles and sang with a nasally Southern twang, courtesy of his upbringing in Gainesville Florida. Petty didn’t look like your stereotypical rocker either. He was gangly with straw-blond hair and big teeth, like a scarecrow who had come to life, picked up a sunburst Rickenbacker and slipped on a leather jacket. He wasn’t caught up in whirlwind love affairs or on the covers of tabloids for drug-addled debauchery. He was a quiet, unassuming soul, but most importantly a master songsmith.

You could fill a whole radio station with Petty songs and never run out of quality material. His songs could be upbeat and inspiring, but also rebellious and dark like “Breakdown” or “Refugee”. He was a great collaborator, working with artists like Stevie Nicks on the classic “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” or with the late ‘80s supergroup The Traveling Wilburys. In the 90s he transitioned into a folk-rock troubadour, blowing his harmonica on hit songs like “You Don’t Know What It’s Like” and “Mary Jane’s Last Dance”. He was one of the first artists I remember liking for their words. I didn’t care for lyrics as a child but when I heard “All the vampires, walkin’ through the valley move west down Ventura Blvd.” I was engaged.

Tom Petty is one of those artists you never imagine passing away. Whether you discovered him as a fist-pumping teenager or in the back of your mom and dad’s car, you can’t deny he was an essential part of our modern musical landscape. It’s sad to lose him, but at least we have the classics to remember him by. RIP.

Shocktober Day 2: Cat People

Cat People (1942)

What are the odds that I ended up watching back-to-back films with panther women? I blame Criterion, clearly, they have a weird fetish. I just don’t want people to think this is THAT KIND OF BLOG. But don’t let the title fool you, Cat People isn’t a cheap B-flick. Well, it was cheap and it was a B-flick but trust me, Cat People is a classy production. You can thank one Vladimir Leventon for that, known more famously as Val Lewton.

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