Cover Lay Down

Halloween in our tiny township is a community affair: most homes are too remote to manage, so we trick or treat downtown at storefronts and darkened sidestreet porches as the skies darken, making our way to the edge of town just after twilight’s end. There, we line up for our annual parade down Main Street, and - at the signal from a guy dressed as a traffic cone, or a phalanx of Roman gladiators from the high school football team - march onward to glory, and a costume contest and cider and popcorn balls to follow in the majestic granite edifice that serves us as town hall.

It is, to be honest, the quintessential, defining night of small scale life here in New England, this parade with no spectators through the middle of town, and I often cite the occasion by way of explaining our idyllic existence: how it feels to find yourself in the streets, alight and vibrant against the cold, good folks and friends and families marching to the left and right of you, their faces shared wonder under masks and makeup.

And so Halloween in my house is about costumes, plain and simple; my sweetheart is a creative soul, a locavore Paganesque Martha Stewart, and we’ve won prizes in past years for the caterpillar, and the flamingo beak she perched upon my head. This year, for the first time, the girls have not chosen a paired set of costumes: elderchild will go as a gothic vampire in crushed velvet cape and ruffles; the wee one will be “Sleeping Beauty but I’m awake now Daddy”, complete with pull-me cart transformed into a resting place fit for a tiny pink princess’ hundred year nap. I’ll be a house; if you knock on my door and yell “trick or treat”, I’m offering miniature board games, their pressed sugar game pieces lovingly ensconced in tiny cardboard game boards.


That their thoughts are full of candy and dress-up play, rather than considering what lurks in the dark spaces as the leaves fall and the world grows ever-cold, is as much a function of our own modern lifestyle as it is the bland commercialism which tames all holidays in our electric-light culture. They’re neither superstitious nor scared of the dark, this grounded post-media generation, and so there’s nothing to be scared of here: no monsters under my childrens’ beds, no devils in our spiritual framework. Our ghosts are characters in stories, no more and no less supernatural than talking mice, stepmothers, running gingerbread men and princesses.

Perhaps because coverage follows culture, there’s nothing terribly frightening in tonight’s pre-Halloween kidmix: no nightmare-inducing songs, nothing lurking in the shadows which cannot be explained away with a kiss and a smile. But there are zombies, wolves, and a myriad of other creeps and crawlies, and heck, the Monster Mash isn’t scary, either, when you get down to it. From reincarnated cats to grim grinning ghosts, then, here’s a double-digit set of the lighthearted best for the young set on Halloween.

• B-side Tango: The Addams Family (orig. Vic Mizzy, RIP)
  A short, bouncy folkrock tango to kick our list off in style, sourced via some random, borderline-cheesy tango compilation of soundtrack songs.

• The Duhks: Death Came a Knockin’ (trad.)
  Nominally an optimistic song of spiritual acceptance in the face of death. But the close harmonies of The Duhks lend just the right touch of ghoulishness and discomfort for smaller ears.

• Maria Muldaur: Heck, I’d Go (orig. Dan Hicks)
  Aliens stretch the limits of fearful creatures of the night, I suppose, but I’ve yet to hear of a UFO sighting in full daylight. Call ‘em the spooks of a starwatching scifi culture. From Muldaur’s Swingin’ In The Rain.

• One Riot One Ranger: Hinky Dinky Dee (trad.)
  Never fear: our titular boogeyman is but a framing device for a silly sequence of punnish verses a la Arkansas Traveler in this buried treasure from 2002 alt-country in-house fave The Bottle Let Me Down.

• Freakwater: Little Red Riding Hood (orig. Sam the Sham & The Pharaohs)
  Another from The Bottle let Me Down, this one featuring a true howling wolf lurking in the spooky woods. Country-punk girl duo Freakwater gets bonus points for their own theme-appropriate name, as does label Bloodshot Records.

• Noah and the Whale: Devil Town (orig. Daniel Johnston)
  A surprising number of Daniel Johnston tunes translate well for kids. Must be Johnston’s innocence. Though Noah and the Whale’s ragged, slightly spooky take doesn’t hurt, either.

• Kate Stables: Zombie Jamboree (orig. Lord Intruder)
  Gentle, slightly off-key warmth, or zombiesque delivery designed to evoke the undead? Either way, this track from Kate Stables, aka This Is The Kit, comes across like a good autumnal campfire singalong. Traditionalists might prefer the Kingston Trio version.

• Pete Seeger: John Brown’s Body (trad.)
  Even before its melody was borrowed for something a bit more patriotic, this traditional tune was a song of glory. But any lyric that begins with a body mouldering in a grave fits right in here. From Dangerous Songs!?

• Peter Yarrow: Cockles and Mussels (trad.)
  My wee one’s current nighttime favorite, a tale of love lost and a ghost doomed to a life of endless urban fishmongering. We featured the new Peter Yarrow Songbook series back in May, and it’s still in the kids’ CD changer.

• Laurie Berkner: The Cat Came Back (trad.)
  A multi-seasonal chestnut with a surprising amount of death and dismemberment, even in the hands of current kidfolk queen Laurie Berkner.

• Barenaked Ladies: Grim Grinning Ghosts (orig. Disney)
  Hardly folk, as we’ve noted in previous kidfolk features. But this cover of the theme song to Disney’s Haunted Mansion is light enough to close out our set. From Music From the Park, an out-of-print Disney-phile’s delight.

Cover Lay Down posts new coverfolk features and sets each Wednesday, Sunday, and the occasional otherday. Coming soon: a tip of the hat to genre covers, a handful of new tribute albums, and an interview with singer-songwriter Caroline Herring, whose stunning, intimate new CD Golden Apples of the Sun hit the ground running this week.