Halloween

It’s Halloween. For those of us who love horror films, the whole year should be Halloween. Still, it’s hard to be a horror movie lover dressed in black all year long, especially under Monterrey’s scorching heat. Did I ever mention the first time I saw Halloween by John Carpenter? I must’ve been around ten years old. A neighbor my mom was visiting lived a couple of blocks away. When we got to her house, her kids were watching the movie on a Beta cassette. We watched Halloween I and started Halloween II. I was both fascinated and terrified. My mom finished her errands. I guess she noticed how excited I was about the movie, so she let me stay. She went back home and told me to return once the movie was over. Those were different times. The city was safe for kids in certain areas. You could go out and play around the neighborhood in the afternoons, as long as you didn’t go more than three or four blocks away, which we sometimes did just for the thrill of crossing that invisible line. There were places you weren’t supposed to go: the alleys, the empty lots, the abandoned houses.

When the second movie ended, the kids went to their rooms, and my mom’s friend walked me to the door. I remember walking those two blocks back, terrified. I walked along the sidewalk, recalling those scenes from the quiet streets of Haddonfield, so ordinary, so calm, until suddenly… A few meters from home, I noticed someone walking several steps behind me. I remember running as fast as I could. I remember the horror of finding the front door locked. Desperate, I knocked while watching that figure draw closer. The seconds dragged unbearably slow, and then my mother opened the door, and I rushed in as fast as I could. That was enough horror for the night. Yet I loved the movie, and I loved the music. What Carpenter did was as extraordinary as what Spielberg did with Jaws. Jaws had been my favorite film until then (another movie with incredible music). I don’t know whether to call it horror, terror, or suspense, but since then, the sea has terrified me. And I still don’t like walking alone at night either.

To this day, I still find it spectacular that Carpenter, besides being a filmmaker, is also an extraordinary composer of his own movie scores. His minimalist compositions are simply otherworldly, and they clearly add much of the atmosphere to his films. Carpenter’s music has undoubtedly influenced artists like Mike Dean, a remarkable producer, and experimental musicians such as Sunn O))). I recently read that Carpenter had a poor opinion of Coralie Fargeat’s film The Substance. It’s true that Carpenter’s The Thing shares something with The Substance, but I have no doubt that David Cronenberg, the true pioneer of The Substance’s body horror, probably has a better opinion of Fargeat’s work.

Last night, I was reading All Gates Open: The Story of Can, about the legendary German krautrock band. I’ve always loved Can, but reading that first part of the book late into the night made me appreciate their early period with the great Malcolm Mooney even more. With Mooney, Can sounded rawer, more garage, almost proto punk. The influence of The Velvet Underground and Frank Zappa on the band is unmistakable. In the ’70s, Can, alongside Kraftwerk and Neu!, were creating a truly unique musical scene, experimental electronic music like nowhere else in the world. A scene that would later attract artists such as David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Brian Eno, Nick Cave, U2, and Depeche Mode. I was surprised by how close Can were to certain filmmakers who collaborated with the genius Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Although I know Fassbinder used music by Kraftwerk, Lou Reed, and Janis Joplin for his stunning TV series Berlin Alexanderplatz, it would have been fascinating if he had used Can’s music. “She Brings the Rain” has always felt like a song that would’ve perfectly fit one of Fassbinder’s films.

Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about Mudhoney’s debut and Soundgarden’s Ultramega OK, both released around this time of year. I’m not surprised people remember Soundgarden, but I am surprised many remember Mudhoney and not TAD, for example. I love TAD. I’m not even sure if they’re grunge, they sound more like heavy metal than Soundgarden and definitely heavier than Mudhoney. Does anyone know why TAD was never as successful as Nirvana or Soundgarden? It’s clear to me that Tad Doyle, the band’s leader, wasn’t exactly your typical athletic, photogenic frontman, he was more like a grizzly bear leading the charge. The perfect musician to score Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Man, where the protagonist loves bears… and is eventually eaten by them. Inhaler was produced by J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr., which made it TAD’s most accessible record without compromising their sound, yet the commercial impact was minimal.

Time passes, I stop listening for a while, and then I come back to them with even more enthusiasm. Were they grunge? I’m not sure, but they were there from the beginning. Okay, they weren’t on Deep Six, but they were on Sub Pop. They were closer to the Melvins. The Melvins were on Deep Six, but not on Sub Pop. Or maybe TAD was closer to Skin Yard? To me, they sound a bit like the Melvins, a bit like Motörhead, and they’ve got that rhythm section crunch reminiscent of Aerosmith’s Rocks. A devastating element is their double bass drumming, something I’d only heard on Nirvana’s Bleach. I think that, just as “video killed the radio star,” TAD lacked visual appeal, or maybe had too much of it, and that’s why they never made it big. Ultimately, they were closer to Alice in Chains than Nirvana. Closer to Killdozer than Pearl Jam. Unlike Soundgarden, their Black Sabbath influence isn’t as obvious. I hear more Flipper or Black Flag in them, though not quite hardcore.

One fascinating thing that’s always convinced me of how incredible TAD was is their work with some of the best producers of their time: Jack Endino, Steve Albini, Butch Vig, and J. Mascis. Who could top that? I doubt anyone could. I can’t help but think TAD were truly the best band of that era. Every one of their albums is a masterpiece of weight and power. It’s a shame so few people paid enough attention to realize it, or had the privilege of hearing them at all.