Thursday, April 3, 2014

CATCHING UP WITH LIFE

Wow, a lot has been happening lately! The two most notable bits of news are polar opposite in the good/bad variety. We lost Dave Brockie the man who was Oderus Orungus of GWAR. He was just 50! It sucks. I owned GWAR's two films Phallus In Wonderland and Skullhead Face. Both were endlessly entertaining and hilarious. And disgusting. And awesome. Oderus's appearance on the Fearnet series Holliston was a great joy.
At the other end of the spectrum comes the surprise news that PHANTASM V; RAVAGER is complete! I loooove Phantasm and I'm a huge Don Coscarelli fan. This film means a lot to mean and I can't wait to see it. It looks amazing...
The Walking Dead season finale was great except that it was only five minutes long! Seriously it was over so quick, but damn if it wasn't a nice place to stop; "They're screwing with the wrong people."
Bates Motel keeps getting better. I was completely skeptical about this show in the beginning, but I'm sold. Last week's episode gave us a taste of the Norman Bates to come. This week's episode helped solidify what a great crime drama the show is.
We plowed through the four original Psycho films last month, because it'd been a while and I was happy to see just how well they all held up over the years. Made me miss Anthony Perkins.
I've got a collaborative project in the works that I hope to be announcing soon. All I'll say is that your IPod will thank you.
Some other things to be looking for;
Epic release of the Creepshow OST from Waxworks Records. It's gore-geous!
Mego style 8" figures of Ash from Evil Dead and Iron Maiden's Eddie (as The Trooper) are coming soon from NECA. I have their retro Jason figure and it's one my favorite pieces in my collection.
Werewolves In Siberia's new album, Beyond The City of The Dead, is out now and  is fantastic. If you love '80's style horror/synthwave music this album will on heavy rotation on your audio consuming device!
I've got some new fiction done and ready to roll and I've made some major headway on three book projects, including the first volume of My Heroes Have Always Been Monsters. I'll be posting bits and pieces here soon.
All right, it's almost 3 am, the hour of the wolf. I better go now. Take care, fiends! Reviews and new chapters of Heroes are just around the bend!
(just a little blast from the past I've been writing to)

Monday, March 17, 2014

KING VULTURE'S SOUND ATTACK 3.17.14

SOCIAL DISTORTION...Up Around The Bend
DROPKICK MURPHYS...Fortunate Son
RICHARD HELL AND THE VOIDOIDS...Walking On the Water
RAMONES...Have You Ever Seen The Rain
GUN CLUB...Run Through The Jungle
RANCID...Bad Moon Rising
MINUTEMEN...Green River
CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL...Commotion

Saturday, March 1, 2014

EXCERPT FROM CONSPIRACY OF BIRDS; CHURCH OF THE MIDNIGHT CHOIR


(COPYRIGHT 2011/2014 TIM MURR/ST ROOSTER BOOKS)
The air was all warm mist and misery. The humidity had intensified with the afternoon’s thunderstorm, which had blown in off the ocean quickly and left everything uncomfortable and damp. The rain always turned up the garbage smell. Made the neon beer signs and gas lamps look like something out of a horror movie.
I’d been popping into the usual spots trying to find Lucky. No one’d seen Lucky, but they all kept asking me about Lenny. If I’d heard what happened to him. I said no all seven times and all seven times I was told about how he’d been found down an alley with his skull bashed in.
Nobody cared that he was dead. Nobody liked him. It was just an addiction to the sensational and the dark that kept everyone talking about it. The black trucks rolled down the streets every morning picking bodies out of the gutters or out of alleys or out of their desperate little rooms. Death was as common clouds here, but Lenny was killed with passion. The killer took a minute, not to snuff out a life, but to say something. That underlined the event. That got people talking. Passion is currency. Passion gets papers printed. Passion gets radio specters pouring out of speakers and into the consciousness of the listeners. Passion is a gossip machine. Passion captures the imagination. Passion is mental cocaine for the masses.
This particular night was nothing special, just one out ten million. I strolled past the hookers and the religious freaks and the bums. Foreign sailors chased girls and cursed in languages. Young men hassled scrap collectors. Cops cruised by in patchwork patrol cars with chicken wire welded over the windows. No one was really up to anything and in this place that meant it was just the calm before the storm.
Whatever the storm wound up being, I don’t know. I missed it, because I went to church. Not on purpose, mind you. Just wound up there. Sometimes you get caught up with a movement of people and just go where the current takes you. That’s what happened when I rounded the corner into a dark neighborhood, with shot out street lights, and on to the road that goes past the mission with the big red neon cross. Lots of people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and species shuffling along, muttering to each other.
I was lost in my own head, not paying attention to my feet until the neon cross was directly over my head and I was being gently pushed through the doors. I’d been here once before, when I’d had too much to drink and had passed out on the sidewalk. The preacher who kept the place was a nice guy. I liked him. He took care of me. The place had been a gym, but they slapped the neon on the roof and painted a sign that said ‘Mission’ and ‘Church of the Midnight Choir’.
I wanted to turn back, but I was too tired to push through the throng coming up behind me, so I grabbed a pew in the back and collapsed. There was a hymnal in the pocket in front of me and a pot-bellied drunk to my right. The place was filling up quickly while a stiff looking lady with thick glasses played an old synthesizer set to ‘organ’. She played one song continuously, I don’t know what it was called, but I felt it in my bones. Like I’ve always known it.
There was graffiti carved into the wood on the pews. Some religious, some profane;
‘There is no hell just endless darkness’
‘That is hell’
‘For a good time suck my dick’
‘Fag’
‘I want to go home’
‘Thomas D was here 1867-2102’
‘Just accept love’
‘Bullshit’
‘My name is Sid guess what I did’
‘Jesus is love’
‘No one ever loved me’
The music faded off a single note and the preacher stepped up on stage. He looked tired, with swollen lips, like he’d been punched in the face, and a slight limp. He fixed the congregation with a look of warmth, took a deep breath, and opened his fat lips. 
“We’ve all got blood on our hands…in one way or another. We’re all guilty of something. So we can begin tonight knowing that we are all on common ground. We’re all sinners. We all fall short of God’s expectations. In that failure we can we look to one another and say ‘brother, sister, I’m with you’.”
He took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup on the little table to his left that was piled high with a large Bible and stacks of papers. His congregation looked like they were waiting in line to be whipped. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms. Blood. Sinners. God’s expectations. It was going to be a long night.
Preacher man looked lost, like he had no idea what he was going to say next, or why he was even there.
“I hear it everyday; Why are we here? What is the point? Where is God? Well, I don’t know. I preach the word. I’m not a psychic. I don’t know much more than anyone else, it’s just that my brain is tuned into a radio wave not everyone can pick up. It’s not a blessing...it’s hard! You say ‘why that tornado?’ and I say ‘Jesus loves you.’ And you say ‘so what?’ And some of you…why do you even come here? You demand answers and I tell you what I know and you punch me! One of you tried to stab me! You come here with all your filth and lies and anger…”
The pot-bellied man beside me had started vigorously scratching his belly and grunting with discomfort.
“Whether you like my answers or not…one truth remains…whether you like it or not…and none of your sorcerers or poets or scientists or soldiers can change the fact…that Hell is real…and Satan is real…and me and all my ‘useless’ words…are the only thing standing between you and him!”
The man was clawing at his belly with both hands. Tears streaming down his face.
“And you’ll never wash the blood off your hands!”
The man’s lap was covered in blood and he’d bit through his bottom lip.
“What’s done in the dark will come to light!”
Skeletal hands ripped through the man’s belly while the preacher’s neck began to stretch and twist reaching out across the congregation, coming at me. I couldn’t move.
“The Avenger of Blood knows who you are! He’s waiting outside those city limits! For YOU!”
 The pot-bellied man nudged me in the ribs and my face fell out of my palm. I looked at him scared shitless. He whispered, ‘you were snorin’. I thanked him and focused on the smiling preacher who was talking a wedding and virgins and their wicks.
I ducked out quickly and hit the wet streets with ghosts breathing down my neck. Just another night. Except not really. Lenny was dead and in what was left of this world he had been the best friend I had. Phantoms and nightmares ran me out of my hotel room and were going to keep me running.
I saw Juliet walking arm in arm with bullish man with scarred knuckles. She said hello with her eyes from across the street, but otherwise gave no indication that she’d noticed me. They went into a building I thought was abandoned and I shuddered hard. A police car sped past and I hit the first alley I came to, running fast back to the safety of the hotel bar.
Cheap whiskey, take me away!

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

HERE COMES THE DEVIL...SPOILER FREE REVIEW

It's every parents' nightmare; Tragedy strikes a couple on vacation in Tijauna, Mexico when their two children go missing, but when the kids reappear the real nightmare begins.
Writer/director Adrian Garcia Bogliano's HERE COMES THE DEVIL is a wicked mind fuck of a flick. I saw it this past saturday night at the Nevermore Film Fest, with an audience of willing and enthusiastic horror fans. The film is disarming and bewildering right from the start with wildly humorous zooms and an intense and long sex scene, that (at least with an audience) was almost embarrassingly engrossing. Bogliano constructs a really good roller coaster with DEVIL. He sets us up for a fast drop into despair and fear then keeps us guessing while leveling out for the final drops and loops, driving the audience to a satisfying and disturbing end.
DEVIL's  plot is nuanced and multi-layered, weaving crime noir/murder mystery and the supernatural into a pretty dreadful tapestry. The cast is strong, particularly Laura Caro as Sol, who's the anchor of the film. As a grief stricken mother that evolves into a machine of revenge and later into a mother jaguar willing to take on the Devil himself, Caro is brilliant and mesmerizing. Francisco Barreiro, who plays Felix, the father, is also a win on casting. He's flawed, but like any good father there's no end to what he'll do to protect his
children. Sol and Felix's marriage in and of itself is quite a roller coaster and it's actually the energy that powers the story. Sol and Felix's children, played by Alan Martinez and Michele Garcia don't get much screen time or dialogue considering their disappearance and later behavior is the catalyst for every thing that happens in DEVIL. Of course that may be because Bogliano didn't want to expose the kids to the more gruesome and erotic elements of the film.
It's hard to stay vague about HERE COMES THE DEVIL, because I enjoyed it quite a lot and would like to cut loose with a full dissection of the film and why I think it's worthy of your attention, but I'll save it until after the DVD release. Instead I'll leave you with my mini-tweet review; "A director from Argentina uses Mexico to make a great Italian possession flick." If it plays near you, I recommend you catch it.




Thursday, February 20, 2014

WE LOST BOB CASALE OF DEVO THIS WEEK.

From Akron, Ohio, Devo formed as a band in 1973. Bob Casale played guitar, was featured on every one of the band's recordings and was instrumental in their sound. He died at 61 of heart failure. Devo was an amazing and exciting group-to be as weird and out of left field and yet highly listenable even to the point of heavy rotation on MTV with their great video for Whip It. The world is a better place because of Devo and Bob Casale.
Monsterman
Girl U Want

Freedom Of Choice

Through Being Cool

Beautiful World

Gates Of Steel



Sunday, February 9, 2014

LIVE IN THE DURHAM/RALEIGH AREA AND WANT TO GO TO NEVERMORE FILM FEST?

Well I've got two passes for any film of your choice!
Nevermore has a great lineup this year and I'm excited to be attending myself. Go HERE for the complete lineup and schedule. So you want to go?
Just post your email in the comments below! Winner will be chosen at random. Good luck, fiends!







Here's the trailer for one of the films playing, Almost Human

Saturday, February 8, 2014

CONSPIRACY OF BIRDS IS LIVE!

Available right now; my new e-novella Conspiracy of Birds. Just $2.99 from Smashwords.com.
Not exactly horror, but couldn't exist without my obsession with horror. Conspiracy was inspired by my nightmares. I hope everyone checks it out!










'I didn't want to burn any bridges, but I doused them real good with gasoline just in case.' Conspiracy Of Birds is the new novella from Tim Murr, creator and writer for the blog Stranger With Friction and author of Lose This Skin. It is a hallucinatory skin dive into the nightmare world of a failed writer living on the broken edges of America.