Is there any scene more unsettling than Jack Torrance rounding the corner into the hall that leads to the Overlook Hotel’s Gold Room? Through a hotel silent save for the wail of the wind, the crackling fire of a typewriter, and the rumble of wheels on rugs rises the sweeping and swelling sound of a party in the next room. It’s the perfect image of beauty and terror rolling and roiling into one.
I once tried to score a Halloween party using only songs that had been recorded with just the right lack of fidelity to elicit the feeling that we were all one turn away from stumbling into the Gold Room ourselves. This was met with the protestations of my mongoloid friends, who couldn’t see the art in what I was trying to achieve—all they wanted to hear was “Witchy Woman.” My friends are in pieces now, but as I was taking care of that, I got to thinking perhaps they were right after all. More variety isn’t so bad, and you’ve got to toss your guests a bone now and again. Here’s that bone. Their bones, in fact.
Alex Oliveira is an Associate Editor for AIR MAIL