Hilarious Death Blues

When I was a kid, my dad had a humorously sadistic streak. If I were lying on a blanket in front of the TV he would roll me up in it (arms inside) and enjoy my screams, knowing what I didn't: I could have simply unrolled myself out of this cocoon. (Was this evidence of my incipient claustrophobia, or its root? This is, as yet, unclear). We once watched an episode of 'Thriller' in which an isolated and paranoid character was haunted by scratching from inside the walls of his house. Later, my dad waited until I was starting to doze off in my room and then recreated that same scratching sound.

One night he allowed me to stay up with him because 'Psycho' was being shown on late-night TV. His entire interest was in seeing my reaction when it was revealed (spoiler alert) that Norman's mother was, in fact, a mummified corpse in the fruit cellar. Dad was ultimately disappointed, as I shielded my eyes behind my hands at the crucial moment.

But he got me started on something that stuck. It first took hold with this movie:

I didn't yet know what genre I had stumbled upon. In fact, I still didn't as a full-fledged adult, even when I came to love these two songs:

Only much later did I understand: I had me a taste for Gothic Americana. Johnny Cash. Tom Waits. Nick Cave. The Handsome Family. Willard Grant Conspiracy. They have all descended into that netherworld where fervor rubs elbows with madness.

The following two are lesser-known specimens. They're by Antic Clay and Bob Frank & John Murry, and are featured in albums well worth seeking out, 'Hilarious Death Blues' and 'World Without End,' respectively.

Finally, when asked who my favorite male vocalist is, I always vacillate between Mark Lanegan and David Eugene Edwards. Both have deep roots in this troubled place, fighting demons. Lanegan tends to sound weary of the battle, while Edwards is still going at it hammer and tongs.

This is Edwards's earlier incarnation, fronting 16 Horsepower.