Ton’t do it, Shane Hunter, it’s a trick! That’s no boogie-woogie-ing sweet little ’60s manic pixie dream girl! It’s a mirage! Look, see how she’s luring you deeper and deeper into the dark forest? She’s charmed you! Let me see if I can dispel the magic — one second. Blast! She must be something very powerful, like a swamp hag or a succubus or — gasp! — could she be a vampire? Either way, she’s taking you deep into the forest to eat you! Those flames? Those will be the same flames that heat the cauldron!
No, no, no — don’t go into the cave with her! What are you, crazy? Why would there be music coming from the cave? Talk to me, Shane! What are you seeing? A dance hall? An outdoor music festival? Oh dear gods, it’s worse than I thought. She’s inflicted you with visions to mask her nefarious ploy. Do you smell the putrid stink of old and molded corpses? Do you feel the moisture on the walls — it’s blood, Shane! And soon yours will add to it! She’ll flay you empty, hang you upside down to bleed. She may even want to wear your skin.
Wake up, Shane! That’s no bed, that’s a butcher’s block! Get up, we must go! Out of the cave. Out of the forest. Back to the safety of the town. Quick! Hurry! While she’s distracted!
Do I hear a beautiful voice singing? Gods, no! I hear the wailing of a banshee. I hear the cackling of an old witch. I hear the shrill laugh of a rancid and undead ghast. She’s sharpening her knives, Shane! She’s disembowel you with a psychopathic glee. She’ll suck out the contents of your entrails. She’ll clear the marrow from your bones.
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To read the rest of this review — and more by Steve Schmolaris — visit his website Bad Gardening Advice.
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Steve Schmolaris is the founder of the Schmolaris Prize, “the most prestigious prize in all of Manitoba,” which he first awarded in 1977. Each year, he awards the prize to the best album of the year. He does not have a profession but, having come from money (his father, “the Millionaire of East Schmelkirk,” left him his fortune when he died in 1977), Steve is a patron of the arts. Inspired by the exquisite detail of a holotype, the collective intelligence of slime mold, the natural world and the suffering inherent within it — and also music (fuck, he loves music!) — Steve has long been writing reviews of Winnipeg artists’ songs and albums at his website Bad Gardening Advice, leading to the publication of a book of the same name.
