Mixtape: Spooky Sad (2/2)

Remember mixtapes? Crimson Arts does. Welcome to our biweekly feature, where we create mixtapes for every emotion and every season—for breakups, breakdowns, and breakdancing. This week our mixtape is a two-part feature dedicated to all the creepy crawlies you may encouter this Halloween.

Welcome to part two of our Halloween mixtape spectacular. Whereas we can run from the monsters we met on Pt.1, we often find ourselves unable to escape our inner demons.  We have the ability to create our own personal Frankensteins that are scarier than anything we can find jumping out of the grave. Consider staying in this Halloween and taking a listen through this mixtape. Although these ten tracks don’t address the ghosts, vampires, and zombies that will prowl the streets, they are certainly horrifying in their own right. Listen along.

“You Don’t Know How Lucky You Are,” Keaton Henson

It begins with a simple guitar melody, messy harmonics played over a thin whir that sounds like ringing wine glasses. If you’re imagining a handsomely unhandsome man with sad eyes and an inconsolable beard hunched over a guitar in an empty room, you’re not far from the truth. Henson sings, hushed and insistent, “Does his love make your head spin? Does his love make your head spin?”

“Casimir Pulaski Day,” Sufjan Stevens

Casual listeners might grossly misinterpret “Casimir Pulaski Day.” A bouncing guitar riff, a banjo line, and a triumphant brass section accompany Stevens as he recalls that after his love’s death from a terminal illness, her father drove his car into the Navy Yard, just to prove that he was sorry. Stevens quietly describes the moment she dies with the image of a cardinal hitting a window—the banjo plays on.

“virginia,” Julia Brown

“I watched the sun rise in your kitchen,” begins lead singer Sam Ray, skirting the line between pedestrian and intimate. This memory’s poignant specificity turns into “virginia,” a fuzzy, lo-fi waltz that flits back and forth between nostalgia, thoughts of suicide, and the quickly fading memory of a road trip, expertly tied together in a mere five lines.

“So You Wanna Be a Superhero,” Carissa’s Wierd

Lead singer Jenn Ghetto wants to be a superhero—that’s what she keeps insisting as she essentially lists symptoms of depression in her verses. The hardest-hitting part of the track is when she finally admits that her dreams may be realized too late. Her voice rings almost as if it’s just in your head. “I’ll make you proud someday,” she promises. “I just won’t be around to see your face.”

“Wake,” The Antlers

After his terminally ill loved one passes away, the narrator of Peter Silberman’s concept album “Hospice” confides that “Now that everyone’s an enemy, my heart sinks.” The entire song is one long apology, culminating in “When your helicopter came and tried to lift me out, I put its rope around my neck.” But by the end, he’s the one who’s forgiving her—the song ends with eight repetitions of the line “don’t ever let anyone tell you you deserve that.”

“Breakfast in Bed,” Dntel ft. Conor Oberst

Watching someone you love go through pain is worse than taking it all upon yourself. That’s why Conor Oberst’s accusations (“You said you wanna die, now you say you wanna live”) turn so quickly into brutally honest admissions of love (“We can lay around, you can kiss me until the maids come kick us out”).

“How To Disappear Completely,” Radiohead

It only lasts for about four seconds, but the chillingly quiet note cluster that opens “How To Disappear Completely” might be the most magical moment on “Kid A.” The eerie tone transforms into a backdrop for Thom Yorke, who seems to be reciting from the diary of a madman—half of the lines Yorke delivers are “I’m not here / This isn’t happening / I’m not here / I’m not here.”

“Amy In The White Coat,” Bright Eyes

We can imagine a different world—one in which Bright Eyes singer Oberst decides that maybe an unforgivingly explicit song about a girl who gets abused by her father just isn’t necessary. But Oberst instead decides to speak in shockingly specific detail, his voice wavering wildly as he plays the part of the father, whispering, “Your older sisters, I had them, too / but you’re my favorite, you know it’s true.”

“Sing About Me, I’m Dying Of Thirst,” Kendrick Lamar

“good kid, m.A.A.d city” is a turbulent and emotionally charged journey through growing up in Compton. “Sing About Me, I’m Dying Of Thirst” is the album’s heartbreaking version of a posse cut, but with Lamar taking all three characters’ verses, one for Dave’s brother, one for Keisha’s sister, and one for himself. By the end of the track, Kendrick is alone—one verse ends abruptly in gunshots and the other just fades away.

“Say Yes,” Elliott Smith

It could be argued that “Say Yes” is one of Smith’s more optimistic songs. A pop chord progression accompanies Smith’s assertion that he’s turned his life around and is finally in love with the world. But in the context of the rest of his shortened career, “Say Yes” seems more like a desperate attempt to manufacture happiness than any genuine expression of it.

—Se-Ho B. Kim can be reached at sehokim@thecrimson.com