Best Song Ever: The Scariest Songs Ever
Sonic Youth – “Mildred Pierce”
from Goo (1990; Geffen)
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Despite having the terrifyingly pretentious face of Sofia Coppola in the song’s video, “Mildred Pierce” still stands as one of the more confrontational and brilliant tracks off of Sonic Youth’s major label debut. The name of the song itself is derived from noir writer James M. Cain’s short novel of the same name-it’s also the sole lyric. The song starts off as a Lollapalooza-ready groove with Kim Gordon’s fuzzed bass and the echoing guitars following in tow. The song is not that long, but it’s the last few seconds when the steady beats and melodies erupt into a flurry of feedback and screaming. Typical twists and turns of their provocative flare to the trained ear. However, to the converted, an unexpected turn for the worst, one of the rare acts of artistic discomfort fronted by a major label. Whereas the first half of the song is a harmonized escape like most pop music with a good beat that you could dance to, the Youth pulls things back to reality with the bluntness of a swinging ball-peen hammer-or something else that really hurts. – Chris Morgan
Sufjan Stevens – “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”
from Illinois (2005; Asthmatic Kitty)
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It’s not really that this song is scary. As with most of Sufjan Stevens’ songs, it’s extraordinarily delicate and meticulously arranged. It’s the subject matter of the song, and the absolutely chilling and emotional way in which Stevens delivers it. Gacy is famous as the ‘killer clown,’ a serial murderer who resided in Illinois, taking the lives of 33 young men in the ’70s. Stevens relates his own secretive nature to that of Gacy, which may seem outrageous, but somehow works. The most goosebump-inducing aspect of the song happens when he delivers the falsetto ‘Oh my God,’ after invoking the memory of the victims buried under his floorboards. As if clowns weren’t scary enough already, this song absolutely gives me the willies. – Terrance Terich
Genius/GZA – “Gold”
from Liquid Swords (1995; Geffen)
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Anyone who ever accused rappers of glamorizing drug dealing and violence obviously never heard “Gold,” a gritty and grimy crime monologue from GZA’s Liquid Swords. There’s nothing glamorous about this track in the slightest. Though Genius wasn’t so much a gangsta rapper, from time to time he could tell a story so dirty and fucked up you could practically smell the smoke from the barrel. Genius narrates from the perspective of a drug dealer, with an outlook extremely harsh and bleak. He plans his strategy: “under the subway, waiting for the train to make noise, so I can blast a nigga and his boys/ for what?” Meanwhile, the RZA provides an eerie backing, screeching synths, ominous basslines and one repeated, cinematic minor chord, painting a backdrop as dark as the subject matter scattered across it. – Jeff Terich
Pissed Jeans – “Scrapbooking”
from Hope For Men (2007; Sub Pop)
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Undoubtedly one of the creepiest songs I’ve ever heard, Pissed Jeans’ “Scrapbooking” turns the latest rosy-pink pastime of American housewives into a sadistic metaphor for memory obsession. Now these sentimental soccer moms have a puppetmaster complex, willing to manipulate their loved ones as they see fit and literally gouge out any trace of a blemished past.
I bought a special pair of scissors
to cut out a nice design …
More than just a condescending poke at hollow suburbanites in the vein of punk thrasher “I’ve Still Got You (Ice Cream),” and the hilarious stoicism of “The Jogger,” this particular track drops the flailing guitars that dominate most of the album for a slow bass line and stripped piano ballad, somewhat reminiscent of Pretty Hate Machine-era Trent Reznor. When Matt Korvette groans about how he arranged his old friends’ “heads on different bodies/ to chase sad thoughts for everyone“-then hacks out a single, “Happy!” before letting loose a guttural yelp-I can’t help but be reminded of the crazed vivisectionists in Hostel. These sweet old women suddenly seem capable of slashing your heels open and taking a blowtorch to your face…metaphorically, of course. As long as it helps them remember the past a little brighter. – Dustin Allen
Iggy Pop – “Mass Production”
from The Idiot (1977; Virgin)
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It’s been said that Iggy Pop’s The Idiot is one of the most depressing albums ever recorded, the fascination with such notoriety only intensifying with the fact that it was Ian Curtis’ final listen. But more than that, it’s a disturbing and ominous record, one without a blatantly bleak world view, but rather, mere glimpses of terror. The album closes with its most overtly sinister track, the eight minute “Mass Production,” which somehow combines empty sex with a Stepford dynamic, the ‘mass production’ of cookie-cutter human beings. Slowly and steadily, the melody and beat grind like a rusty factory machine, with its “smokestacks belching.” The guitar leads get woozy and swirl, veering in and out of harmony, as the machine malfunctions, struggling to spit out its misshapen product, doling out rejects and mangled, deformed cast-offs. And remember, this factory is manufacturing people. In the end, the low rumble of synth bellows like the closing whistle, and the machine shuts off, long after the reminder that “I’m almost like him…yes, I’m almost like him.” – Jeff Terich
Big Black – “Bad Houses”
from Atomizer (1986; Touch and Go)
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Bashing Reagan’s America was the toast of ’80s punk. However it was the scrappy malcontent of Steve Albini that made a real nightmare out of it. “Bad Houses” tells a story of the kind of compulsive misbehavior and amorality that neither the conservative establishment nor mainstream liberal opposition were willing to acknowledge as prevalent among the masses. The cavernous and screeching guitars are reminiscent of the doom-chanting of Killing Joke. Albini’s spoken vocals are low and ominous. One can’t help but picture a long drive on a stretch of highway outlined by post-industrial ruins and a few exits that lead to neighborhoods with garbage-strewn yards and boarded up windows. Most drivers would hardly even think of venturing out that way. Albini was perceptive enough, on all of Atomizer, to know that some people can’t seem to control the worst aspects of their base desires, and they act on it with such abandon that not even they know what they’re getting into. – Chris Morgan
This Heat – “Radio Prague”
from Deceit (1981; Rough Trade)
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The most terrifying thing in the world is the unknown. We fear what we cannot see and what we cannot understand. This Heat’s “Radio Prague” plays upon this human weakness by constructing a sound collage that’s glitchy and skittish, without melody and without explanation. While an insistent, though occasionally sped up beat resembling a troubled human heart remains the backbone, minute sound bursts from Czech radio phase in and out, like the phantasm (or homicidal maniac) in the corner of your eye. Though many of their other songs were pretty unsettling as well, this one eliminates every other element, leaving only the essence of fear. – Jeff Terich
10,000 Maniacs – “Jubilee”
from Blind Man’s Zoo (1989; Elektra)
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I know most of you wouldn’t expect Natalie Merchant to perform anything remotely scary, but “Jubilee” is uncharacteristically frightening for a 10,000 Maniacs song. The central figure is Tyler Glen, who is described thusly, “Though simple minded, a crippled man, to know this man is to fear this man, to shake when he comes.” Tyler, in his feeble-mindedness, is a religious zealot. He often listens to the preacher and the Sunday School students, then uses these teachings to take it upon himself to take action against sinners. When he sees the young people of the town drinking and engaging in bi-racial relations, he sets fire to the Jubliee with the kids inside. The frenetic chamber orchestra adds a taste of heightening paranoia, but ultimately, there’s nothing scarier than a disturbed religious nut. – Terrance Terich
Dälek – “Spiritual Healing”
from From Filthy Tongues of Gods and Griots (2002; Ipecac)
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Noise coupled with religion can only equate to sheer terror. Newark hip-hop duo Dälek have long outdone their peers, if one can honestly say they have any, by opting for the most distorted, noisy, abrasive samples DJ Oktopus could pull from his crates. “Spiritual Healing” has just such a sound, metallic and shredding, tearing through the atmosphere with a jagged fierceness, while Dälek proposes the question “Who you pray to, my god, the brown god?/ who you pray to, my god, the white god?” Even as the song’s suspense and furor dies down, you know it’s lurking just around the corner to rise up again. – Jeff Terich
Pink Floyd – “Jugband Blues”
from Saucerful of Secrets (1968; EMI)
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There are surely countless songs out there that try to convey a sense of madness that borders on the exotic without having to truly probe the intensity and numbness that comes with a complete breakdown of all logic and emotional stability. To have any additional songs by Syd Barrett than “Jugband Blues” on Saucerful of Secrets would have seemed downright disturbing, and that’s apparently what Roger Waters thought as well since he rejected a song or two for that reason. A Barrett-led Pink Floyd was a boundary-burning experience that tested the senses. Yet Barrett seemed to be the most tested. His LSD use caught up to him and his antics became stranger-to the point that he put cream on his face before a TV appearance to make it look like his skin was melting off. “Jugband Blues” is a display of true loss of stability. Barrett’s voice wanders, the further the song goes in, the more nonsensical are the lyrics. The song rises with a festive big band section in the middle until abruptly shifting back to Syd and his guitar as he drones questions he’ll never get proper answers to in complete isolation. – Chris Morgan
Recoil – “Jezebel” (Filthy Dog Remix)
(2000; Mute)
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My most vivid memory of this song revolves around trying to find a place to park in the heart of the French Quarter during Halloween, with this song blasting through my car stereo. I remember how I passed a swarm of termites, which seemed like locusts that covered my front windshield. With the wicked tribal beats of “Jezebel,” this late night drive through the French Quarter seemed like a scene straight from a horror movie. This remix perfectly reflected the authentically eerie atmosphere that truly was the darkened streets of the Quarter past midnight. – Adrian Cepeda
Shannon Wright – “Heavy Crown”
from Flightsafety (1999; Quarterstick)
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Two versions of Shannon Wright’s “Heavy Crown” exist, the dense, organ driven version on Maps of Tacit and the sparse, piano version from Flightsafety. The latter has a decidedly more fragile and tragic sound. While the take on Maps of Tacit has Wright moaning in her own primal way, her frail, soft-spoken vocals on the original make it far more sad and far more disconcerting. There are only eight lines to this song, but the chorus “I float around, with my heavy crown” seem to say enough, anticipating a delicately horrifying melody to score a slow motion fall down a long and creaky staircase. – Jeff Terich
