20 Albums that Every Geek Should Own
I recall a time when rock snobs and record nerds operated in the upper echelons of geek culture. Before the explosion of the internet in the mid 1990s, and people started freely downloading all the rare and previously-hard-to-find singles, the only way to get information about obscure bands and off-the-wall records was from some snotty-yet-ultra-cool asshole down at your local record store. Occasionally, you might stumble across some fanzine at your favorite comic book shop, or find one while rifling through your big sister’s discarded magazine collection in search of sexy back issues of “Vogue,” but for the most part, acquiring information about weird bands and strange new music was an elite process.
While I appreciate that most everyone has instant access to some of the best music in the world these days you can, from where you are sitting, download Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue,” and listen to it right now, all while looking up its Wikipedia entry and learning all about the mad genius behind it there is something to be said for the thrill of the hunt; downloading rare music brings no thrill, while discovering a Holy Grail in a dollar bin can make your week.
Music has, however, in recent years, been kind of shunted off to the side in favor of other realms of geek culture. Most everyone knows comic book lore these days, and video games have been around long enough that adults are playing them, and the internet has made us savvy to every intricate step in the filmmaking process, turning us all into critics (and be sure to check out my own ‘blog, Three Cheers for Darkened Years!). But the old-fashioned rock critic is a shriveling breed. Radio stations rarely play new music, and bands are selling fewer and fewer records. It was only a recent innovation to start counting downloads.
In the spirit of that snotty rock critic you remember from the record store of old, I have decided to compile a list of 20 records that geeks would love. It’s likely you already own many of these records. It’s likelier still that you have records that are way cooler than the ones I’m going to list here. If you’ve never heard of the record, consider this list a laundry list of recommendations for great music to be appreciated by the snotty geek. N.B.
Keep in mind that most people’s music experiences are unique, and this list will surely not cover every last corner of geek music (I know little of math rock, my electronica experience is very limited, and I’m not going to get started on wizard rock). These are just 20 important records in no particular order.
Flood (1990)
by: They Might Be Giants
John Flansburgh and John Linnell, who took their name from an obscure George C. Scott movie, are often at the forefront of the genre known as geek rock. Their bouncy, playful rhythms and their truly strange choices of subject matter make for wonderfully light and enjoyable and peculiar songs about palindromes, statues, famous Belgian painters, and fingertips. Their seminal 1990 record Flood (their fourth studio album) is one of their most popular, including such hits as “Birdhouse in Your Soul,””Twisting,” “Someone Keeps Moving My Chair,” “Particle Man,” and their famed cover of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople).”
Indeed “Flood” is so good that it is the namesake of what I call The Flood Syndrome; that is it’s such an amazing record that you find yourself mildly disappointed by the band’s other output, however brilliant it may be. They Might Be Giants are still making record and touring today, and their newest, “Join Us!” is due out later this year. Their infamous Dial-a-Song service, established in 1989, is still up and running. Call (718) 387-6962, and, if you can get through, you’ll hear a song by them for free over the phone.
The Dr. Demento 20th
Anniversary Collection (1991)
by: various artists
If it were not for Dr. Demento (nee Barret Hansen), a generation would not know that comedy belonged in music. Broadcasting from KMET in Pasadena, CA, Dr. Demento, a rock critic and aficionado of obscure jazz, carved out a niche for himself playing old comedy records and stand-up routines when his peers were all rocking out to The Grateful Dead. He was one of the first to play Frank Zappa, Spike Jones, and Allen Sherman. He also had an open-mailbox policy, and often received records from ambitious teenage comedy nerds from all over the world. Most famously, he discovered “Weird Al” Yankovic, and “Weird Al’s” track “Another One Rides the Bus” was recorded live in Dr. Demento’s studio.
I recall many a halcyon Sunday night listening to Dr. Demento as I drifted off to bed. It was the perfect cap to a hectic weekend.
While Dr. Demento has curated many, many records and collections in his day (most of them for the stalwart Rhino Records), the definitive collection to own is probably his 20th anniversary collection that was released in 1991. It contains a lot of famous novelty hits like “Fish Heads” by Barnes and Barnes, “Dead Puppies” by Ogden Edsl, “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah” by Allen Sherman, “The Monster Mash” by Bobby “Boris” Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers, “Star Trekkin’” by The Firm, and “They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Haa!” by Napoleon XIV. Each one of the tracks on this collection in an invaluable classic.
Space is the Place (1972)
by: Sun Ra and his Intergalactic Solar Arkestra
Sun Ra (nee Herman “Sonny” Blount) started making jazz records as early as 1954. He was insanely prolific, having released over 200 records (most on his own label) all throughout his music career. It was hard to choose one of his catalog to recommend, so I’m sticking with the one I’m the most familiar with. In 1972, Sun Ra made a feature film about himself and his band, and he released a soundtrack record to go along with it. Both are entitled “Space is the Place.”
Sun Ra. How do I describe him? Kook saint? The Salvador Dalí of the jazz world? A saturnine spiritual musical lunatic? A legitimate alien visitor? Often seen dressed in huge, flashy pharaoh outfits, including ornate headdresses, or chainmail skullcaps, Sun Ra would, with this Arkestra, compose and perform 13-minute free-form jazz odysseys, ranting about cosmic waves, spacial forms, and his alien origins. He would use computers and Moog synths long before they were in vogue, and made electro-jazz soundscapes that alienate the casual listener, and bend the ear of people searching (in vain) for a hummable melody. One could accuse Sun Ra of being an acid head hippie, but his outfit was a strict drug-free zone. This guy meant every word.
His music was virtuosic and weird, and is just the thing to groove to on a hot Saturday afternoon in Summer when you need your brain to be exploded out the top of your head and transported to a distant Saturn moon to live amongst the half-alien offspring of Nikola Tesla.
Freedom of Choice (1980)
by: Devo
No geek’s music collection is complete without at least one record by Devo, the famed outer-world outfit from Akron, OH. Devo, led by Mark Mothersbaugh, is often listed as an adjunct of the punk and post-punk movements, as their lyrics often espoused a powerful anti-establishment message, observing that human society has reached a point of definite devolution. Their sound, however, is anything but punk rock, featuring an electro-infused repetitive bop, and goofy vocals. Their live act included weird costumes, masks, and the famous power domes. There was even Mothersbaugh’s creepy alter-ego Booji Boy, which was just Mark in a mask, singing in a falsetto.
While Devo’s entire early output is invaluable, the one record that may considered the crux of their sound and their philosophy is their 1980 record 擢reedom of Choice,their third studio album. It contains hits like “Whip It,” “Girl U Want,” and the title track. Freedom of choice is what you got. Freedom from choice is what you want.
Devo is still making records to this day, having released “Something for Everybody” in 2010. The entire record is nothing but peppy earworms and goofy ballads.
The Transformed Man (1968)
By: William Shatner
O Shatner! My Shatner! I groove the songs you sing.
And every geek must fight to find this ancient album thing.
With covers of old Beatles tunes, while speaking all the lyrics,
And wacky drugged-out poetry, a dirge and panegyrics,
But sing, sing, sing!
O the ranting, pseudo-comedy
Where in the bins, my Shatner lies,
Fallen oddball oddity.
Apologies to Walt Whitman, there.
Yes, as we all know, the erstwhile Canadian actor, and cult star of “Star Trek,” recorded his infamous album “The Transformed Man” back in the late ’60s, and it has been something of an oddity ever since. Shatner famously did not really sing, but ranted, beat poetry style, the lyrics to some famous pop hits of the day. His cover of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” is something to be remembered, and listening to the entire album in one sitting can transport you into a weird netherworld of ’60s pop culture where spaced-out druggie spirituality actually overlapped with mainstream music.
If you haven’t seen the video of Shatner singing “Rocket Man” at an awards show, then you must.
Dawn Metropolis (2009)
by: Anamanaguchi
In this age of video game ubiquity, there is no shortage of bands who have devoted themselves to playing hard rock versions of video game music (I’m fond of Minibosses, and The Retro Remix Revue), and, in the case of Anamanaguchi, a techno group from New York, remixing pop tunes out of 8- and 16-bit speakers to make new original music. They are a powerpop band with punkish undertones, all making music with video game sound effects.
This, however, is no cutesy homage, or nostalgia orgy. These are serious musicians who are cleverly repurposing the explodey soundtrack of many of our childhoods, and seamlessly integrating it into the ‘blogosphere generation’s quick-download idiom. From what I understand, they put on one heck of a live show, and, while currently best-known for writing the music to the “Scott Pilgrim” video game (and a few bits of music for the “Scott Pilgrim” feature film), they are poised to become a legitimate cult phenomenon. Video game players,. Geeks, and fans of hard-edged techno-thrills take note. Anamanaguchi are worth seeking out.
Other Worlds, Other Sounds (1958)
by: Juan García Esquivel
In the late ’50s and early ’60s, Esquivel was probably categorized as mere jazz, but today has been called the technical master of experimental lounge music. Using a wide array of instruments such as xylophones, slide guitars and bongo drums, the tortoise-shell-glasses-wearing Mexican hipster expounded on the loungey trends of the day, making them into perky, languid and science-fiction-y mood piece perfect for swaying arhythmically to. The dreaminess, though, was tempered by a legitimate 1950s corniness that is gleeful to the nostalgia buff. His “Mucha Muchacha” contains a Herb Alpert brass portion, and a lame mid-song narration by two white people explaining what the title means. It’s awesome.
What’s more, Esquivel was one of the pioneers of stereo sound, learning to mix his music for the recently-discovered two-speaker system. If you can find early vinyl of his stuff, buy it immediately. If not, most of his hits have been re-released on CD, most notably on a best-of record called 鉄pace Age Bachelor Pad Music,and his wondrous, wondrous hit record “Other Worlds, Other Sounds” from 1958. Esquivel, daddy-o, was a square candy that looked round.
The Blue Album (1994)
by: Weezer
For a long time I suspected Weezer was only included on lists of geek rockers because a few members of the band wore glasses. Then I managed to hear their music, and while it wasn’t technically very complicated (they had the simplistic punk-rock chord progressions down, and little else), it still struck me in a weird way. Weezer sang about Buddy Holly and unraveling sweaters in a playful, childish poetry fashion that belied their geek sincerity. They have a self-effacing, underdog geek appeal that has gone missing in recent years. Luckily, Weezer is still making records.
Their 1994 untitled debut album, often called The Blue Album, has the two songs listed above, as well as hits like “Say it Ain’t So,” and “My Name is Jonas.” It was one of those rare albums, though, that’s actually solid all the way through, and warrants several listens. And for those who think Weezer is little more than a whiny, geeky college rock group, I encourage you to watch some of their music videos. In one, thanks to special effects, they play a song for the cast of “Happy Days.” In another, they jam with The Muppets. A new one employs dozens of YouTube stars. They are clever riffers on popular culture, and savvy musicians who know their place in the world.
Gilbert and Sullivan’s “The Pirates of Penzance”
the D’Oyly-Carte production
While most geeks are known for miring themselves in comic books, technology, science fiction, and video games, it must be acknowledged that there are red-headed step-children even in the geek world. There are ultra-nerdy intellectual geeks in the world who can actually build circuit boards, have mastered chess, and sing in the college’s a capella choir. These are people who can give you a beat-down in Tolkien trivia, and can whoop you real good in a D&D LARP, and have, perhaps, a small collection of showtunes and classical records back in their dorm room. This entry is for them.
Grand opera and playful operettas are not usually listed as primary interests on video game message boards and the like, but they do fill an important showtunes niche in the collection of wussy theater geeks, and shy intellectual types. And what better place to go, than the ultra-witty, mannered, and jumpy-enjoyable world of William Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan for such things? Gilbert and Sullivan’s playful Carroll-esque rhymes and catchy, hummable tunes are ready-made for the classical music phobic, and play right into the ears of the music lover. The lyrics are fun to memorize, and the tunes are fun to learn to play on the piano.
“The Pirates of Penzance” also features, well, pirates, as well as a fun adventure story. A true geek can recite the lyrics to the Modern Major-General song impeccably. If you’re afraid to actually dole out cash for an old classical piece, merely rent the 1983 film version of the musical with Kevin Kline and Linda Ronstadt and Angela Lansbury. Come over the the dark side.
The Orange Box soundtrack (2007)
by: Jonathan Coulton, et al
When the video game company Valve released “The Orange Box” in 2007, it was intended to be a stop-gap between two other games in a popular running franchise. It included three games: “Half-Life 2,” “Fortress 2,” and a quickly thrown-off mini-game called “Portal.” Strangely, it was the third of these to take off in popularity, to the point where the wold-over is littered with squealing “Portal” fans who claim it to be the best game ever made. I haven’t played it, but it sounds to be old-fashioned video game mechanics at their best (pass through cleverly placed doorways to escape a trap) and doesn’t bother to bog itself down in exposition or cut-in mini-movies.
The soundtrack to this unexpectedly popular Orange Box was an amazing hit, mostly for the single “Still Alive” written by geek master Jonathan Coulton (who had previously written tender folk ballads with sci-fi lyrics, like “Code Monkey” and “Skullcrusher Mountain.” “Still Alive” was sung by a computer in the context of the game, praising your triumphs, but still being kind of passive-aggressive about how many people it had killed. It was a clever song that turned usual video game conventions on their ear.
The box also contains other music and songs from video games, which is usually amazing to listen to, especially out of context.
Dare to be Stupid (1985)
by: “Weird Al” Yankovic
I have to admit, I am a nut for “Weird Al” Yankovic. “Dare to Be Stupid” was the first record I ever got for myself, and I’ve been hooked ever since. Even at age 32, I find myself wiggling in anticipation for his next record (“Alpocolypse” is due out in June), and I still love his sound. No proper geek is without at least one “Weird Al” record in their collection and, for the poor souls who haven’t managed to accumulate one or two in their lives, I humbly suggest they start with his 1985 album “Dare to Be Stupid.”
Most little boys my age know the title track from “Dare to Be Stupid” as it was played on the soundtrack to “Transformers: The Movie,” right at the scene where Eric Idle showed up. But more than that, the song is a rambunctious and fun pastiche to Devo, while matching their wit and weirdness tenfold. Indeed, it was “Weird Al’s” loving tribute to Devo that can act as a gateway into their music. It makes me wish Al would do a straightforward cover of a Devo song someday.
“Dare to Be Stupid” includes the classic parodies “Like a Surgeon,” the strange “I want a New Duck,” and the ever-famous “Yoda,” spoofing The Kink’s transgendered odyssey “Lola.” Every “Star Wars” nerd knows “Yoda.” More notably, though, this record has some of Al’s best original work, like his torch song “One More Minute,” and his playful ragtime hit “This is the Life,” which was used in TV broadcasts of the cult comedy “Johnny Dangerously.” This is also the only Al album to feature a cover song. The song? The “George of the Jungle”” theme song.
“Weird Al” Yankovic is comedy music at its finest. Not content to merely do cutesy, obvious jokes, Al is a virtuoso, a passionate lover of music, a playful critic of popular culture, and important pop culture footnote in and of himself.
The Mollusk (1997)
by: Ween
Lazy, questionably talented guitar riffs, squeaky sped-up or languorous slowed-down vocals, and subject matter that would make your grandmother tear her face off, Ween’s music is certainly not for everybody. But for the bong aficionados, and lazy-eyed seekers of the bottom of the musical fish tank, Ween may be made to order. With albums like “The Pod,” “God Ween Satan,” and “Chocolate and Cheese,” Ween have left their mark as experimental rockers who are either playing an elaborate prank on their listeners, or who are, more likely, spaced-out wonks with an unlikely record deal, and a passion to make the jumbled puzzles in their mind into comedy records from Mars.
Their 1997 album “The Mollusk” is probably one of their more accessible records, as it has some actual hummable melodies and a baffling nautical throughline that’s fun to follow. Their song “Ocean Man” was featured in the “SpongeBob SquarePants Movie,” and their chipper song “Waving My Dick in the Wind” is exactly about said activity. They’re like a somnambulist version of Frank Zappa. Your brother’s favorite record, as you click it back and forth quickly between 33 and 45 rpm. If you can groove to “The Mollusk,” move to one of the records listed above. Then get into some of their more modern stuff. Then you’ll be lost forever.
Meet the Residents (1974)
by: The Residents
And speaking of bands that aren’t for everyone…
Not content to live about the fringe, The Residents have purposely remained anonymous throughout their multi-decade career, often wearing scary eyeball-head masks, and other face-obscuring costumes. It’s unclear as to how many people are in the band at any given moment, and if there have been any personnel changes, they haven’t been advertised. They have over 150 records to date, some of which are proper studio albums, most of which are independently-released performance art pieces that may not exist. The residents are taking concepts of fame and deliberately eschewing them. Even if they played no music at all, they would be fascinating artists.
They play music that can only be described as “experimental.” Perhaps “noise rock.” Some of what they play could be categorized as pop music, although the bulk of what they do are abstract soundscapes, and quiet atonal parodies of popular musical forms. They’re so oblique and maddening, they’re almost outside the world of music altogether. They’re like the Crispin Glover of rock ‘n’ roll.
Their first studio album is as good a place to start as any. It’s an ostensible spoof of “Meet the Beatles” (they credit themselves as John Crawfish, George Crawfish, Paul McCrawfish, and Ringo Starfish), but sounds nothing like The Beatles in their music or content. You want some ultra-weird outsider jams? Reside.
The Big Problem ≠ The Solution. The Solution = Let it Be (1989)
by: Crispin Hellion Glover
Crispin Glover is like the Crispin Glover of Crispin Glover.
For those of you who only know Glover as an actor, you’re missing out on the true depths of his insanity. He is not merely a quirky and outspoken weirdo on the screen, but a seriously dark artist who recuts books into swirling, rotting phantasmagoria of off-putting blackened joys, makes edgy dark films, and, as of 1989, put out a record of bizarre rap, clunky, whiny folk, and alien readings of his book Oak Mot, accompanied by creepy, faraway jazz.
The record was produced by Barnes and Barnes, and features a solo by “Weird Al” Yankovic, but it is not, by any means, a comedy record. Crispin Glover’s music vacillates all over the map, at times being pointedly annoying, and at others disturbingly horrific. His rap jam, “Auto-Manipulator,” all about masturbation, is badly done and forcedly jejune. Really? “Clowny Clown Clown?” His cover of “The Man on the Flying Trapeze” is something to lace your circus nightmares, and his cover of “These Boots Are Made for Walking,” where he shrieks and weeps his way through it, is a subtle piece of brilliance.
It’s unclear as to whether or not Glover was playing a prank or being entirely earnest. Either way, it’s fun to hack/slash your way through a weirdo record like this.
An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer (1959)
by: Tom Lehrer
Tom Lehrer is a satirist who got his start in musical theater. In the late ’50s and early ’60s, he recorded several albums’ worth of wry, dry and witty records, often performed live in front of an audience, singing about poisoning pigeons, wicked Boy Scouts, and the old dope peddler. His clear-as-a-bell piano playing, and pointedly clever rhymes made him come across less as a pop star, and more like a playful professor. Which indeed he is; to this day, he occasionally teaches math at UC Santa Cruz.
Tom Lehrer’s mastery of disparate musical forms is astonishing, given that his first interest has always been mathematics. He can move from marches to lullabies to calypso tunes without blinking. His music also has a wonderfully intellectual and nerdy edge that pushes him from a crass master of mockery into a legitimate genius. Just listen to him singing the names of the chemical elements to the Modern Major General song. Or trying to come up with a chipper title tune to “Oedipus Rex.” And then thrill to the edgy beating described in “The Masochism Tango.”
Lehrer made three records, and quietly retired, having claimed the muse had left him. Luckily, we have dozens of his songs left to entertain us.
Whatever and Ever, Amen (1997)
by: Ben Folds Five
I’m rockin’ the suburbs. No one encapsulates college rock more than Ben Folds. His playfully immature complaints, hummable riffs, and pseudo-soulful piano ballads play right into the intellect-starved and newly growing college-aged mind. To this day, he is blasted across college campuses, and his concerts are attended almost entirely by the 18-24 demo. I know. I went to one recently, and felt decidedly old. And if my words aren’t enough of an indicator, get this: Ben Folds is the subject of more college a cappella arrangements than any other pop artist.
He’s like a joyous, youth-friendly version of Billy Joel. A calm, less flashy comedy version of Elton John. His 1997 record “Whatever and Ever, Amen” came out right when I was in the midst of the college experience, so its sound hit me right in the nostalgia. Oddly, though, I think it’ll do the same for you. Ben Folds has reached a weird singularity of universality. He is now and he is then and he is eternal.
Exotica (1957)
by: Martin Denny
Like Esquivel, Martin Denny was a pioneer of a kind of jazz we now call “lounge.” Quiet, calming, like a slow-motion explosion inside your martini, Martin Denny created mood pieces that invoked faraway beaches, deep jungles, and steamy, open-air sex parlors that never existed. He would quietly tinker away on his keyboard while slide guitars, upright basses and weird percussion instruments accompanied him. He was also notorious for putting exotic bird noises in the backgrounds of many of his recordings, making for interruptions of the best kind. If the Enchanted Tiki Room was for grownups, it would play Martin Denny music.
In the mid ’50s, the erstwhile composer and pianist took up gigs playing in Hawai’i, and when the island became a state in 1959, and America became obsessed with a new kind of Tiki culture, Martin Denny was there to fill the musical niche. He did not merely replay traditional Hawai’ian hymns, but riffed on the form, mixing what he had learned with the jazz trends of the day. Martin Denny was one smooth motherfucker. If you want to calm a party down, get people restful and cuddly, you play Martin Denny.
UFO Romantics (2002)
by: Guitar Wolf
I have to admit, I know little of the world of J-Pop, andwhen compiling a list of music for the geek crowd, J-Pop needs to be mentioned. Rather than trudge through the volumes and volumes of squeaky, hyperactive electronic little-girl bubblegum that infects the genre, I turn instead to the curious Japanese blend of American noise punk/garage music put out by the ice-cool stage act Guitar Wolf.
Their sound is largely indistinguishable from any number of middling J-Pop grunge acts (I’m actually more fond of Fifi and the Mach 3), but where Guitar Wolf exceeds is in their stage personae. They wear leather jackets, and affect an air of ultra-cool disconnection. The band members have wolf names: Guitar Wolf, Bass Wolf, Drums Wolf. They call themselves the Worlds Greatest Jet rock ‘n’ Roll Band. Jet rock ‘n’ roll is the unique genre in which they played.
Most amusing of all is the film they made, “Wild Zero” (2000) in which they play their on stage personae as dangerous silent drifters who accidentally wander into a zombie apocalypse. Yes, they dispatch zombies with their swinging guitars, and with the power of their rock.
Absolutely Free (1967)
by: Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention
Frank Zappa is a hard one. He’s a playful anti-hippie-type who often goes on tirades against the facets of society that bother him (which was largely everything) giving him an obnoxious air of smugness that’s hard to get around. Through it all he was funny, but his glib directness puts off a lot of people (including record producers), forcing him to work with his equally whacked out band and no one else. What’s more, Zappa was interested in forming all new sounds, full of sloppy background noise, weird echo, and capturing the true chaos of creation. What’s more still, he was interested in opera, and would pepper his albums with long, long, long atonal musical experiments; he once tried to write a piece of classical music using a thirteen-note scale.
So yes, Zappa is hard to get into. But he has made some wonderfully funny and wry spoofs in his day, and some of his records, while sloppy and weird, are still reasonably accessible. For the neophyte looking to get into Zappa, or for the fan of oddball music, I recommend his second studio record “Absolutely Free.” He sings of Suzy Creamcheese (his nickname for bland, middle-American teenage girls), vegetables, and spoofs conformity with his ballad “Brown Shoes Don’t Make It.” He was like a musical Abbie Hoffman. A mad, drunken revolutionary without the booze. He’s a peek into the small counter-culture right underneath the psychedelics of the 1960s. Not everyone likes him, but most, I think, should be familiar with him.
The Velvet Touch of Los Straightjackets (1999)
by: Los Straightjackets
Rockabilly impresarios from Nashville, TN, Los Straightjackets are an instrumental rock band whose love for ’50s punk and hard surf has fueled a decades-long career. Their sound reminds me of greasy diners, late nights in fast cars, and the milkshake you threw at that one asshole waiter. But, y’know, all in a fun way. They play traditional rockabilly tunes, compose their own new material, and, then, just to keep you on your toes, will throw in an unexpected cover, as in their “Velvet Touch” record, where they cover “My Heart Will Go On,” the love ballad from “Titanic.”
One of my favorite covers of theirs is the theme song to “The Munsters,” which employs their awesome playing, off-kilter sense of humor, and pop culture awareness. Sadly that track is only available on a Rob Zombie compilation.
The best part of all, though, are their on-stage antics, as they are never seen without their smart suits and famous luchador masks. A group of wry, awesome rockabilly luchadors? Sign me up.
Witney Seibold is a movie nerd living in Los Angeles with his loving wife, who actually knows a lot more about music than he does. He maintains a film review ‘blog called Three Cheers for Darkened Years! where he has posted over 800 articles to date, most of them film reviews. He is also the wussier half of The B-Movies Podcast at Crave online, which he co-hosts with William Bibbiani.
