Blood on Black Wax: Horror Soundtracks on Vinyl

Although the back cover of Blood on Black Wax: Horror Soundtracks on Vinyl proclaims the book to be “long overdue,” I’d argue its timing couldn’t be better. As if the crush of hipsters on Record Store Day hasn’t clued you in, vinyl has made a startling, about-face comeback in this Spotify age, with limited pressings of fright-film soundtrack albums — from such niche labels as Death Waltz Recordings and Waxwork Records — among the most salivated-over collector’s items. Co-authors Aaron Lupton and Jeff Szpirglas take glorious advantage of this fan frenzy, striking while the iron is white-hot.

Following up the recent Ad Nauseam: Newsprint Nightmares from the 1980s, 1984 Publishing and Rue Morgue magazine collaborate again for a hardcover that is as much an objet d’art as the discs it celebrates, with color that pops off the page like so many zombies’ eyeballs. Although eschewing a countdown or list format, Lupton and Szpirglas spotlight one of roughly 200 slabs at a time, devoting no less than a full page to each.

Cover art is presented in a consistent span of left margin to right margin — look, Ma, no thumbnails! — with a brief article underneath reviewing the score and/or songs, giving background info and tracking the album’s release history. Some of the genre’s giants are interviewed about their compositions, most notably John Carpenter, but also Lalo Schifrin, Pino Donaggio, Henry Manfredini, Richard Band, Christopher Young and others.

You’ll find the expected classics, including John Williams’ Jaws and Bernard Hermann’s Psycho, but also cult favorites (Manfred Hübler and Siegfried Schwab’s Vampyros Lesbos), fresh cuts (Mica Levy’s Under the Skin), obscurities (Zdenek Liska’s The Cremator) and ungodly earworms (Robert Smith Jr. and Russ Huddleston’s Manos: The Hands of Fate). Contents are organized only by fairly broad categories, with the Goblin-strewn giallo earning special consideration.

The authors even go out of their way to invite a few choice compilations to the party, from Dick Jacobs and His Orchestra’s Themes from Horror Movies to the self-explanatory Bollywood Bloodbath: The B-Music of the Indian Horror Film Industry. Sporting a closing chapter on the current synthwave movement of faux soundtracks, the breadth of Blood on Black Wax’s curation is crazy impressive; the only platter I feel is sorely missing is Disasterpeace’s magnificent and moody It Follows soundscapes.

The turntable faithful and horror enthusiasts alike will treasure this book. Unlike many of the records featured, it won’t break the bank. —Rod Lott

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Fist of Fear, Touch of Death (1980)

Part sports documentary, part biopic and part clip job, Fist of Fear, Touch of Death is all steaming pile. It’s also all comedy — and not that intentional kind, either. Matthew Mallinson’s film is so inept and pathetic on every level that it deserves to be known as the Plan 9 of not just Bruceploitation pics, but martial arts movies in general.

As it begins, ’70s trailer narrator king Adolph Caesar (Oscar-nommed for A Soldier’s Story, but certainly not for this) discusses the big impending karate championship at Madison Square Garden, where someone will walk away with the honor of the title of Bruce Lee’s successor. But will they also walk away with Lee’s curse — aka the Touch of Death? That’s the conflict set up by the — how you say? — “script,” and then completely discarded 80 minutes later.

Credited as “Hammer, the Ladies Man,” Fred Williamson (Vigilante) wakes up next to some skanky white ho in a hotel room. He’s gotta get to the Garden for the match, but his mattress partner wants to “make it a six-pack,” not fully satisfied with being Hammered the mere five times prior. In a running gag, the Hammer is continually mistaken for singer Harry Belafonte. This, my friends, is what the dictionary means by “funny.”

After giving Williamson a lift to the Garden and then interviewing him, Caesar brags about having discovered Lee, and then gives us the whole story about Lee’s pre-stardom years, courtesy of poorly dubbed black-and-white sequences. In these, Bruce often dreams of his great-grandfather’s prowess as a samurai warrior, which we see flashbacks of, courtesy of color clips from 1971’s kick-ass Invincible Super Chan with a fighting midget and a guy who uses an abacus as a weapon.

Caesar briefly mentions Lee’s breakthrough role as Kato on TV’s The Green Hornet, and in present day, we see karate champ Bill Louie decked out as Kato, beating up would-be rapists in the park, killing one with hurled ninja stars. The whole ugly scene starts when some horny redneck, spotting a comely jogger, exclaims, “Shit! Fuckin’ cantaloupe tits!”

As for the much-discussed karate match, we see precious little of it, but that’s okay. At least we get to see a bit of one bout, ending with one guy’s eyes being ripped out of their sockets, complete with cartoon sound effects! So what the hell are you waiting for? —Rod Lott

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The Haunted Castle (1921)

German director F.W. Murnau made many popular films in his heyday, including the silent-era vampire flick Nosferatu, which still shocks today, almost as much as it did in 1922. With many of his films finally being remastered and released, however, there’s bound to be a few low points, one of which is the mostly tiresome silent film The Haunted Castle.

Going into this, even though, yes, there are a few sequences that prophesize what was to come in many of his later films, know that really nothing in particular is haunted, and the “hunting party” is in much more of a chateau as opposed to a castle. The plot of the movie revolves around the sudden arrival of the notorious Count Oetsch at the castle, a creepy fellow that everyone believes murdered his brother … or did he?

Thankfully, a mystery-solving monk shows up to help solve the crime, but not before a few dream sequences are had, including one where a tiny chef eats cream and smacks his boss in the face — which, when I write it out, is probably sexual.

Either way, like I said, it’s an interesting watch if you’re more a student of film who has the patience, but I’m pretty sure most other people will just switch the channel over to Murder, She Wrote for a far more engaging whodunit and a probable guest appearance by Efrem Zimbalist Jr.

The Blu-ray from Kino Classics also has the Murnau flick The Finances of the Grand Duke, which I haven’t seen, but imagine it’s got dour men in white cake makeup making exaggerated faces, probably while looking at bills and notices, when a title card comes on the screen that reads “Sweet mother’s pearls, Reinhold … the Grand Duke’s finances are not very good … I have an idea, let’s have a picnic!”

End of Act One. —Louis Fowler

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How to Choose, Grow & Style the Perfect Beard or Mustache (1997)

WTFFrom the Wahl Clipper Corporation, How to Choose, Grow & Style the Perfect Beard or Mustache is about welding and soldering. Ha! I kid. It’s about big, bushy collections of face pubes.

As the VHS instructional tape begins, it looks like you’re in for wacky pratfalls galore as some poor schmo gets water sprayed in his face in his own bathroom, and Home Improvement sidekick Richard Karn bursts in without knocking to save the day with a Wahl clipper! But these shenanigans last all of 30 seconds, whereupon Karn vamooses in favor of an elongated lesson facial hair lesson subtitled in Spanish. It’s kind of like back in junior high when you’d be invited to a “free” pizza “party,” only to discover you had to sit through a lecture on Jesus.

The “how-to” here is accompanied by image after image of thick-necked Bigfoot-type guys trimming their beards. One sleazeball with a bolo looks like he worked the evening shift at Radio Shack. One fat guy combs out his scraggly, multicolored beard, and I swear he was going to find bits of stew.

Then some “Draw Tippy!”-style illustrations demonstrate how a mustache and/or beard can enhance the faces of various effeminate males. You can play this game at home with one of those dime-store magnetic-dust face toys. The narrator said something about “will not leave a gummy residue,” which will do nothing to allay your fears. —Rod Lott

Teen Movie Hell: A Crucible of Coming-of-Age Comedies from Animal House to Zapped!

Teen Movie Hell, if released 20 or so years ago, would desperately sit on my shelf next to the various Psychotronics and Gore Scores, yellowing with useful age, pages dog-eared beyond belief. Sadly, it’s not 20 or so years ago, so this read — and what a great read it is — and its collection of movie reviews is mostly superfluous in the age of the internet.

Good thing that I — and mostly middle-aged shut-ins like me — still have those Psychotronics and Gore Scores in their bookcases, a little less used but still ultimately revered, and am still able to find a spot on the shelf for Mike “McBeardo” McPadden’s latest tome, even if its re-readability is strained in this modern day and age.

Still, McPadden does a good job of capturing those youthful urges and rejected dirges to see little darlings, party animals and bikini carwashes in their natural environment of toplessness, surrounded with plenty of suds — of both the beer and bathing variety — as a fat guy belly-flops into a pool while a dog with sunglasses covers his head in disbelief.

Dissecting the lesser-known trash — Computer Beach Party and Hamburger: The Motion Picture, for example — alongside the well-known flicks the cool kids favored — The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink ring a bell? — as well as a couple of questionable-but-welcome entries (including Police Academy, this former teen’s favorite) — Teen Movie Hell is definitely is a must-have for anyone with a nostalgic bent that begins in their pants and doesn’t go much further.

Enjoy your home on my shelf next to this stack of Re/Search books. —Louis Fowler

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