The Playlist Project: Scariest Songs
Welcome to The Playlist Project, where we’ll be posing musical questions to Paste staff, interns and writers and then compiling their responses into a handy playlist before opening it up for discussion in our comments section.
With Halloween around the corner, we’re bracing ourselves for all things ghoulish, gross, dark, and deadly. Some of favorite songs can get this creepy, too, so in the spirit of the season, today’s Playlist Project prompt is…
What’s the scariest song you’ve ever heard?
Hilary Saunders, Assistant Music Editor
“You Better Run,” Junior Kimbrough
Junior Kimbrough, one of the most beloved, cultish Mississippi Hill Country bluesmen of the ‘90s, played a style known for its minimalist melodies and repetitive grooves. “You Better Run” serves as the mid-point track on his most revered album All Night Long. While it’s easy to let the ramblin’, seven-and-a-half-minute “You Better Run” hypnotize you—as is the norm for much of the Hill Country blues—the lyrics to this track are terrifying enough to shake any listener out of its deep South heat wave daze. Kimbrough takes the tune one terrifying step past murder ballad into rape song territory. He sings, “You better run. / Don’t let him get you. / If he gets you babe / He gonna rape you,” threatening a fate arguably worse than death for his poor, scared lady protagonist. I can no longer listen to this song—on one of my favorite albums—without staving off a panic attack.
Jim Vorel, News Editor
“Theme from Unsolved Mysteries”
This piece of music scared the ever-loving hell out of me as a child. Go on and listen to it. It’s absolutely sinister sounding. When you heard that music and Robert Stack walked out of the fog, the frightening thing was a lack of knowledge of what he was about to spring on you. Something totally innocuous, like a story about bank robbers who disappeared without a trace? Or an utterly terrifying story about alien abduction or demonic possession? Each was equally likely on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries in the ‘90s, and for some reason my childhood self could barely handle the uncertainty. Just hearing this music today makes me want to hide behind a couch in the family basement.
Sarah Lawrence, Design Editor
“They’re Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!,” Napoleon XIV
I had the Dr. Demento CDs when I was a kid and this song scared me so much I would skip it every time it came around. Even now, I only listen to enough of it to make sure it was the right song and then quickly pause it.
Garrett Martin, Games/Comedy Editor
“Do You Know How to Waltz?,” Low
The most scared I’ve ever been by a song was when I fell asleep listening to Low’s The Curtain Hits the Cast, which, being a Low album, is normally very slow and very quiet. The second to last song, “Do You Know How to Waltz?”, ends with 10 minutes of a looped guitar line, and as it runs through the delay pedal, it gets louder and more distorted until it eventually sounds like what you hear when you go to hell. I woke up in the middle of that one day after too-short nap, and it scared the hell out of me for a good five minutes or so. I was pretty sure I was dead.
Dominic Sinacola, Assistant Movies Editor
“The Escape,” Scott Walker and “Body Betrays Itself,” Pharmakon
As far as being terrified by music, I usually measure how much anxiety I’m feeling and how quickly I wish a song would be over (even if something in me enjoys it). I originally thought of a few Tom Waits songs, but even at his scariest there’s still a playfulness to everything he does (from “Oily Night” to “What’s He Building In There?”). For a second I thought of “John Wayne Gacy” by Sufjan Stevens, but that’s not so much scary as it is creepy and off-putting.
I ultimately settled on Scott Walker’s “The Escape.” Pretty much everything he’s released in the past decade has been absolute madness (Bish Bosch is stomach-churning), but I always think about this song from The Drift, which begins as ominous, bug-eyed crooner fare and then with about two minutes left sounds like we’re exploring the lower intestine of a demon with IBS. And then the Donald Duck voice comes in—which, if you can imagine hearing the Donald Duck voice spoken in a room with no light, directly into your ear, heavy breathing sort of leaving your ear lobe damp—then you might realize how scary that can be.