"Whomp-a-saurus Sex" by Mochipet from the album Whomp-a-saurus Sex. 2011.
I knew all week I wanted to feature a Halloween-y song, just like last year. You're no doubt sick of hearing the same ol' monster mash thriller that tends to pop up come October's end. Just based on the sheer magnitude of Christmas music and its radio-hijacking persistence in society, how come, then, the so-designed antithesis of the holly jolly season carries the musical weight consisting solely of classics on its Bach? (Ouch, forced pun). I've thus compiled a Halloween playlist that steps outside the usual bounds of tired tricks. Some mention of a Halloweeny trait qualifies a song (i.e. monsters and other spooky stuff), but an appropriate atmosphere can also let it past the bouncer. This makes anything from "All You Zombies" to "E.T." fair game in terms of scope. And while it would be fun to post the entire 10+ hour list here, well... that's not the purpose of these columns.
This weekend I poked through the list and managed to get two worthwhile ditties stuck in my head. One of them now stands in the spotlight before you. The other you keen-eyed readers might have noticed among the TIME top 100 list bombarded by Djandor in her guest post: the 1977 political "Zombie" by Fela Kuti. Both the song and Kuti himself have spurned controversy, which I suggest you read on their respective Wikipedia articles for at least interest's sake. I suppose that's the reason why Mochipet gets the nod instead, though; Halloween has enough flak of its own without 40-year-old political embroilment. Yet, I wanted to second-place it officially for that jazzy, free-flowing style akin to the Return to Forever number I once featured. The societal meanings and undertones adds its own unique study, but again... save it for a heavier post. This one's about electronic dinosaurs.
Now I have to admit: go ahead and shake your finger, but sometimes I judge a book- er... album - by its cover. Then, sometimes I judge a band by its name and finally a song by its title. "Whomp-a-saurus Sex" has a diagnosis of all three. I've been known to search for songs and pick 'em out by title or artist-name alone. Admittedly, this doesn't always lead to good things, but I must say it did in the case of the "Sex". (Don't interpret that wordplay as foreplay or somethin'!) I find Mochipet humorous because I picture an actual pet made of mochi bouncing along. The "Whomp-a-saurus Sex" title really doesn't need any explaining. Take note of that cover, though, because the eye-catching dino constructed of cables, speakers, and hunks of corrugated metal basically spawns the whole enjoyment I get from the song.
When I close my eyes and listen to this funk, my imagination swirls together that very electrosaur depicted on the album art. The steady bass-snare kicks animate the beast's footsteps, and each jibe of the vibe becomes a roar of the 'saur. Without using any words at all, one can envision nearly the entire story of this creature from the music alone. Very few songs can claim this, especially ones likely designed as club instrumentals. I can't stress how blown away I am by the vividness of this Whomp-a-saurus thing in my mind just from the beats and beeps. I actually see it tearing through some laboratory hallway in starving pursuit of someone far less funky than it. Perhaps your imagination takes it elsewhere. That's the beauty of leaving the listener to his or her creativity.
Separating the tune itself from the associations of my brain, I can see it as a dirty-dancing club thumper. or Whomper. It also has a spooky/unsettling vibe great for a unique Halloween collection, even though dinosaurs technically aren't really the steak-and-potato monsters for this particular festivity. Maybe you can help me find something distasteful about it, since I don't see the telltale signs of bad with the binoculars at my outpost. Not that I'm dubbing it the best song ever written, but for what it is? Fantastic. Plus, it's free on Amazon! Trick that in your pillowcase and treat it!
As a side note, I know emphasis has lately glided towards more recent releases in my weekly songs. Including this, the last four claim birth in past two years, and the last song older than Y2K's mockery had its selection at the start of July. Well don't fret, the Oldies have not fallen to trendiness! The silver medal given to "Zombie" earlier in the post should show I keep all options open. Before you know it, a consecutive month's worth of the ancients might just beam down from the Rock and Roll Heaven (Man, they've got a helluva band!). Not that I plan to weigh my picks by the decade, of course.
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