A mysterious message containing an even more mysterious playlist materialized in our realm

We received the following e-mail at Split Tooth HQ this week. At first we thought it was carrying a virus — but it turned out to be something far worse. It opened itself, and the text rang in our ears, spoken by a voice that sounded like dust falling on rotted wood, from somewhere deep within our own skulls. We believe it is harmless. We have reprinted it here for your consumption. Take a look.

“Dear Split Teeth:

This is your Grandpaw Cryptkicker speaking. Even though you never call, you never write, you never ritually sacrifice small mammals on my altar, I’m still out here on the edge of reality, reconnoitering the outer fringes of sonic sanity to send you back the dusty gems I know you need to drown out the chaos and terror that surrounds you always, always, always pressing in, just barely held at bay by a thin veil of imagined normality. I know the veil is thinner than it’s been in a long time. So here are some real dead stompers, some screaming rockers, original novelties and garage revivals, sold-soul singers and creeping backwoods twangers, some sounds to make you stomp your Frankenstein, wobble your Zombie and wiggle your Dracula through the graveyard all night long.

Some of these howlers come from parts barely known to mortal man. There’s “Dead” by The Poets — that’s the Los Angeles/Dennison Andrews Poets, not to be confused with the two dozen other bands in other cities using the same name at the same time. There’s “The Spook Walks” by The Spooks, a Joe Meek-produced mind-twister that was recorded in 1966 but languished in limbo until the 2007 collection Vampires, Cowboys, Spacemen and Spooks raised it from an early grave. And perhaps strangest of all, “Walk Like a Zombie,” a blood-curdling banger from the London, Ontario, garage revival scene — it only ever escaped into our reality through a dimensional portal shaped like a cassette tape found in the What Wave zine by an unfortunate few who were there, and saw and heard…

I hope these songs expand within your mind and keep you hurtling through space and time unmolested by the old gods and new horrors that wait, salivating, for you to slow down or let your guard drop. You won’t remember any of this once you wake from my trance, I know, but I like to think the ghosts of these words will haunt you long after the memories have faded into the mist. Happy listening to all my bastard grandkiddies out there. Just remember that your Grandpaw loves you and is always watching. Always.”

Then every stereo, phone speaker and car radio for six miles started playing these… these songs. And like in a dream, or better yet a nightmare, we somehow knew just what they were, even as their exact contours slipped away from our conscious minds. We were compelled — we couldn’t stop ourselves — we had to share these sounds with you. May god have mercy on your souls.

Listen to the playlist below:

1. “Creature Feature (The Frankie Stomp)” — Satan’s Pilgrims Creature Feature (1998, Estrus LP)
2. “Weird” — Bob Vidone & The Rhythm Rockers (1959, Fleetwood 1003)
3. “The Ghost Song” — Salty Holmes (1954, Decca 29321)
4. “The Creep” — The Vampires At The Monster’s Ball (1964, United Artists LP)
5. “Dead” — Poets (1958, Flash FL129)
6. “Spooksville (Unknown)” — The Nu-Trends (1963, Lawn L216)
7. “The Thing” — Curtis and the Creepers (1962, Dauntless 45-032)
8. “The Giggler” — Pat and the Wildcats (1964, Crusader C100)
9. “Ghost Dance” — Truett and George (1927, Columbia 1182-D)
10. “13 Black Cats” — Nan Wynn (1955, RCA Victor 47-6390)
11. “Whistlin’ Past the Graveyard” — Tom Waits Blue Valentine (1978, Elektra/Asylum LP)
12. “The Spook Walks” — Spooks (1966 recording, unreleased until Joe Meek/Various Artists Vampires, Cowboys, Spacemen and Spooks, Castle CMWSE 1473)
13. “Walk Like a Zombie” — Hank and Frank (1990, What Wave)

(Special thanks to Jem Michelitch, senior research fellow at Arkham Conservatory for Inhuman Sounds, for assistance in cataloging and interpreting this message from beyond.)

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