A Closer Listen
Must Halloween music always be scary? We kept this principle in mind for our series Music for Haunted Houses, which ran from 2014-20; in the year without trick-or-treaters, we concluded that “the whole world (had) become a haunted house,” and lamented that the old-time monsters had lost some of their power. But Halloween had been changing even before the pandemic, shifting from a night of superstition with semi-religious origins to a rite of passage for children to the second most popular adult holiday of the year. Enter Plïnkï Plønkï, who playfully suggest that they might be rechristened Spookï Pookï for this release, and a set that attempts to coral the windswept themes of October 31 with a mixture of history and humor.
Happy Halloween is impressively literate, having done its homework in terms of myth and legend. “Each-Ulsge” leads off the album, paying homage to the vicious water creature that often appeared as a handsome man but was really a Scottish water horse that carried riders to their deaths, eating everything but the liver. But any horror is offset by the excited children who babble throughout, a reminder that children are often drawn to frightful tales without themselves being frightened. And of course the “Gnomes of the Lock” were never going to be that scary, especially due to their seeming love for gardens. The Phookah (also known as the Púca or Pooka) is a shapeshifter that plays tricks on human beings (especially if they live in Ireland); the track of the same name is also a shapeshifter, built on a foundation of slowed-down bat cries, turning into a surprising bout of post-rock before returning to its humble origins. “Stop! That Ghost just wants to Dance” highlights guitar and bells, although the note of the bell is the same as an incoming text, so maybe that ghost just wants to text; it’s a young ghost, and died before it learned how to haunt in the proper, time-honored way. When synths surface in “幽霊,” one thinks, this is how it is done, the old Yurei teaching the young. One also wonders, do ghosts watch 80s horror flicks, or just live in our old, bulky TVs and VCRs, waiting to be summoned?
If “Toogras,” the album’s least scary track, seems particularly benign, it’s because it refers to “an ancient Nordic spell written on one’s hand before sunrise to invite true love and goodness.” “Let’s go now,” says a child as the pianist plays a lullaby. But what does the child know of romantic love, or of the horror of heartbreak? (Sorry, just trying to make it more scary.) Finally, in the middle of “Sirens,” the album turns a corner, the waves joined by the increasing volume of an enticing call. One high-pitched flute note signals the sailor’s demise; after that, only waves. “The Bregdi,” even scarier than sirens, attack ships that are pulling into port, shaking the passengers in their maws; this lurking, dark ambient piece is the most suited for a haunted house. The “Rusalka” is a mean Russian mermaid, but it wasn’t always so; earlier versions were benign, watering crops in spring, or sad, having committed suicide to escape from abusive husbands. Plïnkï Plønkï leaves room for all interpretations.
The rain is falling in “Will-o-the-Wisp” as the pianist plays again; it’s beginning to feel a lot like Halloween. We haven’t heard from the children for a while; are they okay? Apparently so, as the album closes with “You are home! You are safe!”, our only concern being the exclamation points. Are they really safe? The words reflect the heart of Halloween: one wants to be scared, but not terrified, comforted, but not sheltered. Happy Halloween to all our readers! (Richard Allen)
Thu Oct 31 00:01:09 GMT 2024