You Can Murder a Man, But Never His Spirit: Philippe Mora's MAD DOG MORGAN

There has always been a certain appeal about the Outlaw. The elements of violence and crime appeal to our baser human nature while the anti-establishment and anti-authoritarian aspects play to anyone with an individual’s spirit. Americans and Australians are two countries that have always had a major love affair for the outlaw, especially given that both places were formed by people getting away from less than ideal circumstances in their home countries. In fact, the British used the American South, much like Australia, as a place to ship off criminals. That said, there is something a little extra special about the Australian outlaw or as they were called back then, “bushrangers.” A lot of them had extremely legit reason to rebel and one of the best examples is “Mad” Daniel Morgan, whose store was beautifully retold in Philippe Mora’s film Mad Dog Morgan.

Morgan (Dennis Hopper) is a moral man with a quick temper, something that is immediately evident within in the first five minutes when he punches the crap out of a guy who is picking on one of the Asians working in the work camp. This simple act sets up the man’s inherent nature perfectly. After witnessing one of his friends get shot in the head in a particularly gory scene, he flees a hate crime as a mob of whites burn down a Chinese encampment. It’s a nasty bloodbath and one in which you never really see any legal action brought down, which is important given what happens to Morgan. After stealing blankets and some clothes, he is arrested and sentenced for 12 years in a penal colony that is basically Hell on Earth.

This strong yet sensitive man is physically beaten, gang raped and branded with the letter “M” for malefactor. The cycle of human abuse continues for six years when he is released on parole for “good behavior.” The damage is done, however, and the die is cast for his life as an outlaw. After all, when the rules are being made by plump, upper-class white men who view anyone that defies them as “half-animal,” you’d be tempted to break them too.

The law is quick to look for Morgan after he steals a horse and gets shot for his troubles, though he still manages to elude them. Laying in the grass and dirt bleeding, he is saved by Billy (David Gulpilil), an Aboriginal bushman and fellow outcast. After the white man tried to kill his tribe and then his tribe went after him for being mixed, Billy retreated to the wilds. Turns out that the nature of the earth and animal are easier to deal with than the nature of man. The two misfits quickly bond and soon go into the business of being a bushranger together, with Morgan pretty much taking the active role while Billy plays look out.

The more Morgan and Billy outwit, outrun and often outshoot the law, the more infuriated the police become until there is a 1,000 pound reward and trust is a rare commodity. But how long can any man, especially one as volatile and spirited as Dan Morgan, keep running? 

 

Mad Dog Morgan is, simply put, a beautiful movie. It’s a thoughtful work without ever resorting to either sermonizing, demonizing or worst of all, the arch-demon of pretension. Daniel Morgan the historical figure is a folk hero but Dennis Hopper’s Morgan is both hero and a good, flawed soul forced to resort to violence and a life of crime in an absolutely unforgiving landscape. This is a man who didn’t act out of greed or sociopathic thrills, but instead survival and a rage towards a system that had little heart towards its lower classes. It’s very revealing that the real villains in the film are the upper classmen who can afford to look down on men like Daniel because they’ve never had to really struggle. He’s the one outraged at real injustices, like racism and workers being treated like near-slave by bosses whose pockets are lined with gold and nary a drop of their own sweat.

In fact, something that both the Hopper version and the real life Morgan did was they would force a lot of work camp bosses to give their employees extra money, food and rest breaks. This is the act of someone who is fundamentally not a bloodthirsty bastard but someone who could have done even more good if he had been born in a better time and in a better land. Classism still exists without a doubt but nothing can compare with what a lot of people’s ancestors went through 100, 200, 300 and more years ago.

Visually, this film is a love song to rural Australia, boasting some color rich cinematography from Mike Molloy, who has worked on films ranging from Performance (1970) to the extremely underrated Rocky Horror not-a-sequel-but-equal Shock Treatment (1981). The landscape looks alternately lush and harsh, which sums up the reality of Australia as a whole.

The pacing is very reminiscent of the works of Werner Herzog, where it is leisurely without being lazy or inconsiderate of the viewer. It is the porridge that Goldilocks chose. The same can be said for the music, which is a mix of a rich score by Patrick Flynn and some amazing aboriginal music and sounds courtesy of David Gulpili.

Speaking of Mr.Gulpili, he is extremely likeable and charismatic as Morgan’s sole true friend and watcher. Sadly, he’s probably best known in the States for doing films like Crocodile Dundee (1986), but he has actually had an impressive career. In addition to his turn here, he starred in Nicholas Roeg’s early classic Walkabout (1971). Much like this movie, he deserves more love over here.

That said, this is undoubtedly Dennis Hopper’s show, which is a blessing for us because he is unflappingly great as Morgan. Everyone and their momma knows that he can pull off wild-eyed and insane better than anyone this side of Klaus Kinski, but what Hopper nails beautifully is the vulnerability of this man. One of the most standout moments is when he wanders alone in a little tavern and is approached sexually by the bar maid there while her creepy mother sits alone in the corner. “Mad Dog” is a total gentleman and gently turns her down; explaining that the only woman he has ever seen naked was his late mother. He then quietly exits. The subtle emotion in Hopper’s face is perfect, capturing the mixture of temptation, trauma and loss. If this had been a Hollywood picture, he not only would have bedded her but probably would have lived happily ever after and had a brood of little “mad” spawn running around, stinking up the front yard. Dennis Hopper is one of the best actors to have come out in the last 50 years and that talent shines brightly in Mad Dog Morgan.

 

Mora, who is best known for his delightfully fun and occasionally campy films like The Return of Captain Invincible (1983) and one of my personal faves, Howling II: Stirba-Werewolf Bitch (1985), handles the material like a total professional. Balancing art and history can be a sticky wicket, as evidenced by a legion of films that have gotten it wrong, wrong, wrong. (Yes, Kevin Costner, someone is giving you the side-eye and it’s me!) But Mora demonstrates nothing but respect and creativity towards the material, with the highlight being one effective and nightmarish vision of Morgan’s.

  

Mad Dog Morgan is a film ripe for rediscovery and while others waste their time with bad Hollywood Oscar-baiting tripe, do yourself a favor and pick up the real deal. This is a brilliant, brilliant film.

Shadow Worlds of Cinema: An Interview with Susie Bright

 

Every art movement worth its salt is going to have its share of detractors and controversies. Chances are if a work of art has caused at least one parent's group ire, then it is something worth checking out. (And if it's caused a riot, then it is a masterpiece. But that's for another article.) The best kind to stoke the fires of status quo morality is often “lowbrow” art. Whether it is horror comics, pulp novels, heavy metal music or fringe cinema, these are often the works that are critically panned, if paid attention to at all, they repulse the ethically insecure and when they're really good, give the social rebel hope.

One of the writers that has been an essential part of these needed fringe worlds of art is the one and only Susie Bright. A name that should already be familiar to most that will read this article, she has been a keen figure in the world of feminism, zines, erotica and LGBT rights. Something that not everyone reading this might know, though, is that she has written a number of great film articles and reviews. It feels like that the cult film world has not given this woman enough credit and that day is changing now, especially with her recent book, SusieBright's Erotic Screen: The Golden Hardcore & The ShimmeringDyke-Core. This e-book is indeed shimmering, making it a must read for anyone who has a deep love or at least, a curiosity, about a time period when cinematic erotica had a number of ambitious artists and filmmakers involved.

If you are looking for something prurient, go elsewhere, since this feast is more focused on great writing, cinematic history and peeking into cultural corners. I loved this, since it fed my inner Murray Head. (“I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.”) 

Ms. Bright was extremely kind enough to agree to answer a few questions, via e-mail. Enjoy!

–First of all, I love the quote on your blog from Rolling Stone, “Could not be accused of shutting up.” A magazine that toothless should be grateful to have someone smart and with actual informed opinions talking! There is a fine art of the un-quiet, which shines in your book, “The Golden Hardcore & Shimmering Dyke-Core.” Being an open and honest writer, did you ever feel any resistance from editors and/or publishers?

Oh, all the time; but I consider that a healthy tension— to a certain degree. If someone fawns all over you, there’s probably something amiss.

But you are probably asking something more difficult, which is, “Have I ever been discriminated against?”

Yes, all the time. The prejudices are well known.

I rarely hear the blunt rejection to my face-- it’s usually told second-hand, or in hoary euphemisms. I remember one editor got very drunk and called me in the middle of the night to weep and confess every awful prejudice that had been uttered against my work in their publishing chambers. Feminist, whore, queer, nigger-lover, communist, pervert, etc.

And that’s from the “liberals.”

I guess the main thing to say at this point is, “Who cares what ‘THEY’ say?” The old gatekeepers to the publishing empires are irrelevant today.

My latest book in point: No one in mainstream publishing would’ve bought the rights to “Erotic Screen”-- they can’t even wrap their minds around a topic like that, the golden age of porn and the origins of indie erotic film making.

But it doesn't matter. I know who my audience is; they’re eager for it, and I can self-publish and reach them myself. By the time it becomes “big news,” I will have established the beachhead. I already have. 

Honestly, nothing new ever happens waiting for the Big Boys to “discover” you sitting on a soda fountain stool. You have to come up with your own little revolution and then watch and see what happens!

 

-Also, what kind of reception did you initially get from other writers?

Oh, I’m in a longtime supportive community of working writers. People who’ve been supporting their families for decades with their writing are not prissy about anything. "If you’re working, good for you—" that's the attitude among the craft. There’s few writers that haven’t tackled sexual subjects at one time or another.

Jamie Gillis

-Classic era adult films are the living definition of fringe cinema and like all fringe cinema. A lot of it does not deserve to be put in the back room ghetto. Being an artist and being marginalized because of your own private milieu is incredibly unfair. How did a lot of the actors and directors that you knew in this field handle this critical prejudice?

Well, I think many of the names you know today, like Nina Hartley or Annie Sprinkle--- or the late John Leslie or Jamie Gillis— are household names because they have been outspoken and militant, in addition to prolific.

The people who are articulate, charismatic, dogged, lucky… they’re the minority. But you could say that about every actor working anywhere.

Most people in porn, like everyone else in the Hollywood colony, just drift in and out, rather unheralded, never becoming famous. It is a tough business where you often feel used and thrown out like yesterday’s dishwater, after a very brief period of time. I would say the same holds whether it was TV sitcoms or porn flicks.

People think porn is some nether world that has nothing to do with the rest of show business, but it’s quite the opposite.

 John Leslie

-Any post-Silent film worth its salt will have some sonic goodness and the classic films of this era are no different. (Directors such as Cecil Howard, the Dark Brothers and Stephen Sayadian are especially standout in this arena.) What are some of your favorite soundtracks of the adult era?

Oh, definitely Night Dreams. (Editor Note: Indeed! Any film that features Wall of Voodoo's “Ring of Fire” is something very, very special. Also, Mitchell Froom's excellent soundtrack for Rinse Dream/Stephen Sayadian's Cafe Flesh is worth checking out.)

 Speaking of Cafe Flesh....

-Were there any adult films that you were initially excited about, only to be disappointed with?

When a director is good and does something new, there’s so much pressure to pump up the volume, just churn stuff out. How many people can be Andy Warhol? I really can’t think of any!

Almost all my fave directors got burnt out at some point and did less than stellar work in their later years, unless they had refreshing break!

In that vein, what are some of the most overrated titles? (In my opinion, Debbie Does Dallas would be the ultimate. How titles like FIRESTORM and MEMORIES WITHIN MISS AGGIE are semi-obscure and that smut-for-mongoloids is famous is beyond me.)

Yeah, Debbie is one of those Texas cliches that is “all hat, no cowboy.” It’s all “title” and no film. Someone poured ten times the marketing budget into that film than they did on the actual production.

Actually, it presages the current porn vogue for jumping onto current events and trends, be it the Sarah Palin parody, Nailin' Palin, or Avatar. Debbie was an attempt to jump on the tremendous heat behind the Dallas Cowboys, the biggest thing in the sports world at the time.

Firestorm is one of Cecil Howard’s greats, and luckily, he kept all his rights, kept masters of all his films. Thank god. He and Radley Metzger were unique that way.

If someone made a porn film right this minute starring a Jeremy Lin lookalike, just imagine the pandemonium. I’d go see that!

As for Miss Aggie, that was Damiano’s third film, his followup to the excellent Devil in Miss Jones, and really when he felt like he was moving into mainstream theatrical film territory.

During those times, the money was accessible, and it was a HUGE production— all the stops pulled out. They thought that the Ratings Board and the puritanical rules regarding film were coming to pieces-- that sex and drama put together in professional creative manner was here to stay!

Well, unfortunately, they were wrong. The 70s were the biggest high water creative mark for American films since before the Hays Office meltdown.

And they were crushed. It wasn’t just porn, it was everything that brought indie cinema into fruition in the 70s: Scorsese, Cronenberg, Altman, Fonda, Hopper and the whole bit. Those famous names survived and adapted, but the revolutionary erotic spirit… not so much.

I see it opening up again only now, when technology has just ripped apart the old expectations again.

 The Man, Gerard Damiano.

-On a more positive note, did you encounter any films that you went into expecting the worst and walked out being pleasantly surprised?

Oh sure, all the time. I would say I was surprised by virtually every film I saw theatrically. When I saw video innovators like Chris Rage, and Rodney Werden, and the lesbian stuff my comrades were making, it was "goosebump time."

-One of the titles you have a lot of love for in the book is Smoker, which got a DVD release last year. Unfortunately, VCA, which is also responsible for the substandard DVD release of the sci-fi/art film classic Cafe Flesh, has excised over 20 minutes of footage.

Yes. It reminds me of all the silent films that were destroyed in the 20s. (Ed. Note: Not to mention a lot of the pre-Hays code talkies. See, CONVENTION CITY.) I'm writing about this for Volume 2 of The Erotic Screen.

 

In the days of the Meese Commission scare, it is halfway understandable, but in these days of the Whitman's sampler of lurid hell you can find on the net and in ones local video store legally, what is your theory of why many film companies are releasing these films censored and with battered prints to boot? Is it laziness or fear or just a complete lack of caring about their archive?

When Russell Hampshire, the owner of VCA (the biggest XXX video distributor at the time) got of of jail on obscenity charges following the Meese Commission bust, he told his lawyers, “I never want to go to jail again. EVER. Tell me what to do.”

His lawyer, Paul Cambria, wrote a memo…

Followed to the letter, the advice from the memo would destroy most of their back catalog.

And they did.

There were voices who said, “But this is art! Someday the Criterion Collection is going to want this! Scholars will study it!”

But they were ignored with the same mandate.

This really is just like what happened in the Silent film days after the Justice Dept went after them.

The rest of the companies, besides VCA, hadn’t been forced to send anyone to jail. So they just decided to wing it and see if anything happened. Nothing did. They kept their catalog intact and only VCA destroyed theirs. Since VCA had so many classics, it was a holocaust.

-Working and writing about these films, did you ever receive any backlash from some of the more politically correct members of the feminist community?

Oh yes. See my memoir. Endless, endless, ad hominem attacks, multiple assassination attempts (no fooling), unrelenting smear campaigns. What a complete waste. What did the feminist movement get out of it? Look at the horrible state we’re in now, fighting for fucking birth control all over again.

-Every interview needs at least one fun and semi-cheesy question and this one is no exception. What is your classic era dream team? (Actors, actresses, directors, writers, composers, etc etc)

Oh gee! Well, Radley directing Sharon Mitchell, I’d like that. Jamie Gillis with Robert De Niro. Chris Rage making a Disney movie.

 The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann

 

 

-The decline of the classic era is often attributed to the rise of video. However, filmmakers of all types have been able to use professional video equipment to make some unique and good movies. I've always felt that it is more supply and demand. If the public at large demanded better movies (of any genre), then the people with the pocketbooks would be forced to financially back more intelligent and creative efforts. However, that's just me being opinionated, so what are your feelings on this?

You’re right. You see that in gay movies, where there IS a more discriminating audience, and they get better movies.

-Where there any particular artists that you always wanted to meet and/or interview, but never did?

Damiano! Alex D’Renzy. And it’s weird that I washed Linda Lovelace’s car in high school, but never saw her again. When I was 15, I had no idea I’d be covering her career someday.

Andy Nichols in Cafe Flesh

-Any ongoing, new or vintage projects you would like to mention or promote?

I'll be publishing The Erotic Screen, Volume 2, at the end of this year. It will include such classics as "Stalag Porn," and "The G-Spot Fraud Detection Squad." If you'd like to be on the mailing list for its debut, mail me at susie@susiebright.com

I cannot thank Susie enough for taking the time out of her busy schedule to answer my questions. Feel free to check out her Amazon store for an assortment of her available works and of course, her website.

 

The Incident, Killing of a Chinese Bookie & More!!!

Here's a link round-up of some of my hot off the press reviews and articles!

The Big Ugly: Larry Peerce's THE INCIDENT via Dangerous Minds

Blood of a Dreamer: John Cassavetes' THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE via Dangerous Minds

Catherine Breillat's NIGHT AFTER NIGHT via Cultcuts Magazine

Enjoy and Bonzai!
 

Feeling like Poor White Trash? Not Any More!

Are you a fan of great film writing? How about Southern Exploitation, Cajun Style? Even better, the man himself, Timothy Agoglia Carey? Then stop whatever you are doing and pick up the newest issue of Video Watchdog! The power of Timothy Carey dancing compels you!

Dignity is Not For Sale: In Praise of BASTARD ART

I'm not entirely sure when Sex Gang Children and their charismatic leader, Andi Sex Gang, first came into my life but ever since, the magic and texture behind this man has entranced me. Often sounding like the exotic love child of Bowie and Brecht, but firmly remaining to this day his own man and artist, Andi Sex Gang is undoubtedly one of the most underrated figures in music. All of that despite his band charting repeatedly on the UK indie lists in the 80's and then going on to work with the legendary Mick Ronson. (The latter must have felt invigorated to work with someone truly unique,vital and not expecting him to rehash the Diamond Dogs blues.) 

The journey of any artist with bone-bred integrity and an unwillingness to whore is going to be a rocky one and Andi is no exception. Luckily for us all, his life and musical journey has been covered in one hale and hearty documentary, BASTARD ART. Before getting to watch this film, I was just excited to know that someone took the time and energy to cover the man. After watching this film, I was excited to know that a guy like Andi Sex Gang is featured in a well made, lovingly researched and incredibly accessible documentary. It's the perfect mix of being thorough and surprising enough to woo the hardcore fans but pieced together in such a way that it will lure anyone unfamiliar with Sex Gang Children.

In BASTARD ART, we get to see Andi go from a little boy with a natural instinct for song writing and singing to a squatter in the punk scene. In fact, it was his friend from that same scene, George O'Dowd aka Boy George, that gifted the band name, Sex Gang Children, to him. (A name undoubtedly with origins from music savant Malcolm McClaren, who had worked with a pre-Culture Club George.) From there, we get interviews with former band mates, friends and musical peers. But most importantly, we get and receive a bounty of interview footage from the man himself, Andi Sex Gang.

He is the star of the show, not just because he is the subject matter, but because his natural charisma, smarts and sheer will of survival draws you to him. There are performers that are good artists but have rocks for personality but that is far from the case with Andi Sex Gang. The amount of bowling balls this man has had to jump, ranging from bad music deals, facing fake criminal charges that ranged from rape to carrying explosives and an industry that acts more like the ravenous center in the lake of ice in Dante's Inferno, is harrowing. Weaker souls have been eaten by that very machine, but weak is not a word associated with ASG. Scrappy and tenacious, absolutely, but not weak.

Director Vince Corkadel, who has worked previously with both Andi and Sex Gang Children, has a lot to be proud of here. The key to any truly great music related documentary is having the music paint the right picture over the canvas of information. For me, there are few things more frustrating than a documentary about a musician that features little to none of their music. It would be like watching a bunch of people talking about a painter and never showing even a scrap of one of their paintings. Beyond frustrating, but BASTARD ART is a film that thankfully does not suffer that fate. 

As far as pacing goes, it's tight and flows very well. There are zero lulls and it does exactly what this type of film should do; leaving you wanting more and wanting to devour more of the great art featured. Safe to say, BASTARD ART is one of the best documentaries to have come out in the last few years. What's inspiring about this is that guys like Corkadel and Larry Wessel (ICONOCLAST, featured here) have proven that one can make a vital and culturally rich documentary while sticking to a true independent, DIY approach. This is no Miramax or Sundance indie, which is safe in its bigger budgets and often homogenized layers. Instead this is a film born out of pure love, determination and years of hard work and research.

No matter what labels people will throw on the works of Sex Gang Children and Andi, none can ultimately stick, proving not only the folly of “genres” but also the folly of trying to box in an artist you love. A guy like Andi Sex Gang, who continues to be as prolific and active as ever, will set fire to that box, and like a pale faced shaman with a mind of darkness and heart of light, will continue this fight of life. And nowhere is this ever more present than in BASTARD ART. 

www.bastardartfilm.com

Copyright 2012 Heather Drain

Back from the Ether & Ready For the Beach!

Greetings and salutations, my beloved and neglected readers and fellow fringe culture enthusiasts!

It's been much too long since the last post, but never fear, there are some big articles and little indulgences, all itching to be cooked and served. This includes more film and music articles, interviews and other random sundries.

To keep you a little sated until then, here's the trailer for the wonderfully goony BIKINI BEACH. Ever notice how much these films bordered on sun-drenched DaDa? While BEACH BLANKET BINGO is the masterpiece of this subgenre, BIKINI BEACH is a lot of fun, featuring tall drink of water Jody McCrea as Deadhead, Stevie Wonder, a surfing gorilla, Frankie Avalon in frightening limey drag as "The Potato Bug" and the first appearance of the ultimate Mondo Heather heart throb Timothy Carey as South Dakota Slim. It looks like a winner because it IS a winner!

Surf's Up!

Happy Halloween! Music Video Round-up Madness

In celebration of the greatest holiday ever, Mondo Heather is pleased to present you with some of the scariest, silliest and creepiest music videos that I could come up with in 10 minutes. Halloween is my Christmas, minus the awkward family gatherings and plus lots of pumpkins, plastic skeletons and monster masks. Granted the latter two have a semi-permanent place in my life, but I digress.

Anyways, if you love all things ooky, spooky and sonic, then read on! If you dare.....

Starting things off is Landscape's "My Name is Norman Bates." A quirky and unique UK band that became best known for their hit, "Einstein a Go-Go," Landscape contributed a nice tribute to Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece, PSYCHO, and its main character. The video itself features some lovely B&W visuals, a scary castle and an actress that is a dead ringer for Janet Leigh. This would make an awesome double bill with The Hitmen's "Bates Motel." (A fantastic song and one of the best music videos ever. Too bad that the version on Youtube is complete crap quality, including the color being muted out. Hence why it is not on this list. otherwise it would be top dog here.)



Up next is one of my personal heroes, Thor aka Jon Mikl Thor, the Canadian Heavy Metal Thunder God. Not only has the man been involved in some wonderfully cheesy horror movies, including the b-movie epic ROCK & ROLL NIGHTMARE, but he is Thor. Screw Hollywood, accept the one true deity only! This video is not really scary but it does feature some sword & sorcery imagery and the song kicks ass. Plus Thor attacks a fortune teller??? Awesome.



In a darker vein, there's Patrick Cowley's "They Came at Night." Cowley was an electronic-pop wunderkind who helped breathe in new life for drag legend and vocal angel Sylvester's career. Cowley was also an early casualty of AIDS, something that is reflected in this song. This piece of music is already eerie, but when you factor in that this is about a man dealing with death being at his door, it is even more haunting. It is a testament to Cowley's talent that even in such a state, he was able to create such good music. (And yes, I do realize that this is not a music video proper, but given that this is one that tends to get left off a lot of lists like this, I had to mention it.)



Speaking of real life, after that we have Falco's "Jeanny." While most Americans probably remember Falco for such danceable pop songs like "Rock Me Amadeus" and "Der Kommissar," the man also created one amazing and disturbing song in the form of "Jeanny." Inspired by the very real crimes of Austrian serial killer Jack Unterweger, this is definitely dark musical territory, especially for a pop artist. For more info on this song and its history, you can check out an article I wrote back in 2010.



In a more surreal vein, there is Icehouse's "Icehouse." The band formerly known as Flowers were part of the Australian New Wave scene, they created such pop classics as "We Can Get Together," "Can't Help Myself" and "Great Southern Land." In an odd move, they also made this song, which has a sort of cold yet sad starkness about it. Add in director's Russell Mulcahy's surrealistic and subtly nightmarish visuals and you have a recipe for a perfect for a cold, Autumn night video. Plus, this was apparently at one point banned on Australian TV! Have a day.



 Speaking of music videos that were banned, up next we have Blue Oyster Cult's "Joan Crawford." Yes, this creepy gem was banned, not on Australian TV (that I know of) but on MTV. Despite some revisionist nostalgia, MTV was never really as cool as some people will try to tell you, kids. Blue Oyster Cult need no introduction, being one of the greatest rock bands ever. Plus, never has the whole schoolgirl/rock video theme been more suitably disturbing.



Now on a lighter note, there is the master of all things horror and rock, Alice Cooper. I adore Alice Cooper and realistically, about 3/4 of his catalog could comprise a list of this nature. But instead, to keep things interesting, here is "Identity Crisis," an obscure tune from Claudio Fragasso's 1980's horror film, MONSTER DOG.



You cannot have a Halloween themed music list without featuring Australia's own Skyhooks and their song, "Horror Movies." I first heard of this band via Elvira's compilation, "Haunted Hits," which led me to their other work, including the kickass rocker, "Women in Uniform." (Which went on to be covered by Iron Maiden by the way.) "Horror Movies," while not their best song, does feature the catchy hooks and tongue-in-cheek humor that helped define this band.



 From campy back to moody, we have Marilyn Martin's "Night Moves," a song that would have been perfect for the soundtrack of a horror themed show, like "The Hitchhiker" or the massively underrated "Forever Knight." The latter would be especially fitting, given the obvious influence the music video has from the vampire 80's classic, THE HUNGER. It's a good, moody pop song and a far better thing to associate with the lovely Ms. Martin, than her more famed duet with angry-Gerber baby man himself, Phil Collins.



If you want dark eroticism, then look no further than France's Mylene Farmer. This artist has amassed a brilliant body of work, often tackling some rather shadowy themes and layers that most singers shy away from. She was another one, like Alice, that proved to be harder to pick just one video, but I ended up settling on "Beyond My Control." The wolf and blood imagery and repeated loop of John Malkovich from DANGEROUS LIASONS uttering the song's title is beyond perfect. I love Mylene Farmer.



 Speaking of musical genius, after that we have Nash the Slash. The one man band who first made his name playing for Canadian progressive rock band, FM, has built an extremely striking body of work, whether it is working a John Hinckley reference in his cover of "Psychotic Reaction" or composing a lovely score for F.W. Murnau's NOSFERATU. Every heart should make room for some love for this man and "Swing Shift" is a big reason why. The video is properly low budget and is as uncomfortable and riveting as the song itself.



One of the greatest bands to have emerged from the shadows of the UK music scene in the late 1970's is undoubtedly, Bauhaus. A band whose music still sounds as fresh and unlike anything else to this day, despite inspiring a slew of musicians, their song and video for the track "Mask" is one of the best examples of the beauty of nightmares and decay.



The next video might seem initially like an odd choice, unless you too have seen the William Friedkin (THE EXORCIST, TO LIVE & DIE IN LA) directed video. Laura Branigan's "Self Control," a cover of the Italo-Disco hit by Raf, is a perfect, adult pop song. Branigan does not get enough love nowadays for my money and this song/video are evidence why she was truly a star in the way that most pop singers nowadays wished they could be. (The fact that she actually had a great voice without the aid of Protools helps. A lot.) The video itself plays out like some kind of wonderfully lurid, pyscho-sexual Italian Giallo. All that is missing is a black gloved killer but given that there is an uncut cut floating around somewhere, you never know. Until then, we have this still racy version to enjoy.



Now is the time for some spooky garage rock revival, New York style, with The Fuzztones and their creepy epic, "Ward 81." The Fuzztones are, simply put, awesome and this song should make a convert of anyone that likes their rock and roll a little rough around the edges with some organs to boot. What's even more of a treat is how good this video is, looking like a B-Movie style horror film from the late 60's. (Special thanks goes out to Scott Law for introducing me to this one years ago.)



Speaking of retro with a modern twist, after that we have Australia's Beasts of Bourbon and their faithfully, skin crawlingly scary cover of the Leon Payne classic, "Psycho." The video is just as good, with some murky looking proceedings going on in the distance behind singer Tex Perkins anguished facade. (If your not familiar with this band, look up more of their stuff on Youtube. They are phenomenal.)



 Rounding things up is Vinnie Vincent Invasion's "Love Kills," which was the main song from NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4: THE DREAM MASTER. Granted, this is not one of their better songs but still deserves to be featured for two very good reasons. First of all, it is Vinnie Vincent, who is a guitar god and by far, the most underrated member of Kiss ever. Secondly, it's Vinnie Vincent playing guitar with the Freddy Krueger glove and then winking and smiling at the camera. It's awesome, adorable and worth sitting through the overall average video alone.



I hope you've enjoyed my mighty list of spooky musical video goodness and even more, that you have a wonderful holiday season! May your treats be plenty, your tricks few and all of your masks be Don Post.

Copyright 2011 Heather Drain