The Conet Project

I recently discovered what is perhaps the creepiest collection of recorded audio in the history of recorded audio. The Conet Project is a four-disc compilation of "numbers station" broadcasts.

Numbers stations are basically shortwave lo-fi radio broadcasts of seemingly random information/sound. Sometimes, the audio consists of just feedback, machine noises, and other such ambience. Other times there is spoken audio, generally performed by women or children, generally distorted, and generally reciting a series of numbers or letters in any variety of languages, including English, German, Russian, and Polish. Sometimes there is musical accompaniment and sometimes it's just a voice.

No one knows for sure where these numbers stations are broadcast from or what their purpose is, but they've apparently been around since World War I and it's assumed that they broadcast encoded messages for spies "in the field", although no government agency has admitted to this. It's more fun, to me, to think of them as mysterious transmissions from beyond the grave, intended only for a select handful of people to understand and interpret.

The Conet Project has been released on CD by British label Irdial-Discs, which has also made the collection available for free download. If you're brave and interested in being scared shitless, then please go download it, put it on your iPod, and then listen to it whilst driving at night, possible while along a dimly-lit empty stretch of road.

Links:

The Conet Project on Wikipedia.org
Download The Conet Project
Numbers Stations on Wikipedia.org

Kick-Ass Albums: Misfits "Walk Among Us"

Lodi, New Jersey's Misfits are perhaps the greatest punk band of all time. Although former front man Glenn Danzig has gone on to bigger things, he's definitely not done better things. The Misfits, dressed like 50s greaser zombies with a punk rock attitude, remain one of the most original bands in the history of rock, churning out 3-chord, 2-minute sing-a-long punk/hardcore gems whose lyrics were primarily concerning horror-film mayhem.

"Walk Among Us" was their first properly-released full-length album, unleashed upon the unsuspecting listening masses in 1982. Each of the album's thirteen tracks is blessed with the most addictive vocal lines since The Beatles, and the subject matter is suitably cheesy and outlandish enough to please the most ardent horror fan. The album perfectly encapsulates what the band's about, in a succinct package.

Although it somewhat compromises the Misfits' underground credentials, they, along with precursors the Ramones, are pretty much entirely responsible for the anthemic and catchy choruses that comprise modern-day pop punk bands like Blink-182. You'll find it very hard to resist shouting lines like "I want your skull! I need your skull!" or "I turned into a martian! Whoa-oh-oh!"

There aren't many bands more addictive than the Misfits and this album is probably the most concise example of the band's simplistic, straightforward, but powerful music. There's no fat here: thirteen tracks in twenty-five minutes; verse-chorus-verse-chorus with an intro and outro here and there; aliens, monsters, and murders; devil-locks, leather, and grease-paint; oohs and aaahs and backing vocals galore. This is Halloween put to record.

Kick-Ass Albums: SPK "Leichenschrei"

Back before Nine Inch Nails exposed so-called industrial music to the masses, there were fun bands like Australia's SPK. This prototypical industrial music was less music and more like a full-length sound collage. There were no riffs or hooks to be found, replaced by tape loops, sound clips, ambient noises, and rhythm, though generally not produced by a drum kit. Any vocals or traditional instruments were generally distorted beyond recognition, twisted and manipulated into something more punishing and abstract.

SPK's second full-length, "Leichenschrei" -- which translates to "corpse screams" -- is suitably punishing and abstract. On the surface, the album is fourteen tracks of noises -- breaking glass, churning machinery, clips of conversations here and there, screams, things snapping and breaking, so on. However, taken in proper context -- namely an otherwise quiet listening environment, perhaps sans lights, and given full concentration -- the album is an extremely frightening and potent aural experience. The album exudes a strong atmosphere, a mix of terror, insanity, introspection, and nihilism, conjuring visuals that are part asylum and part morgue. If you've ever read Mark Z. Danielewski's novel, "House of Leaves," then imagine this album as the soundtrack to wandering the endless black corridors of that house.

So maybe this album can't be construed as music, but it's certainly effective listening. It requires a certain mood, a dark mood glazed with touches of existential angst, sadness, emptiness, fear, and maybe awe. It's unusual and original and soul-blackening. Listen with caution, but definitely listen.