Glass of Red, Wrong Address

Darling creature, sweet human, I think you have found yourself at the wrong soirée. Do not panic, my love. You cannot disguise the beating of your heart from me. It has been the percussive soundtrack to every meal I have enjoyed since the Industrial Revolution. But you have nothing to worry about, I swear upon the earth of the grave. We are people of more... refined sensibilities.

In fact, you'll find you're considered quite the delicacy here.

Oh—excusez-moi, s'il vous plaît. You'll find you're considered quite the celebrity here. A mere slip of the tongue. My sincerest apologies. I assure you, we have already dined this evening.

I will say, however, you are not quite up to dress code. Perhaps that is why you had such trouble at the door. The theme for tonight is Memento Mori. Those garish cat ears are simply not going to cut it. Nothing screams the inevitability of death like a matted headband that would look more at home on a burning pyre than anyone's head. The death of style, maybe. But a reminder of the coming embrace of the eternal dark? We'll have to find you something more fitting if you are to stay at our private engagement.

Remain here while I locate a suitable costume for you. In fact, I will entrust you with a task of the utmost importance to perform in my absence. I have been delegated as the—comment vous dites?—house "DJ", pour la nuit. Feel free to pick from my selection of records, in the glass case over there. My taste is impeccable, of course—I've had centuries to curate my collection—so you can't go wrong. I trust your radar for music is more... err, sophistiquée than your fashion aesthetics.

Here, pick one to load on the turntable. You've never used one? Mon dieu, what has this world come to? I suppose you're rather young, so I'll give you a pass. Hand me a record, and I'll show you.

Mon Autre - Juniore

Tu la cherches, tu la chauffes

Elle garde son sang-froid

Mon autre pardonne mais n'oublie pas

Mon autre--an excellent choice, entering your musical reign with a scream. There is hope for you yet. Every memorable party I have attended has began--or ended--with the shrill siren of a human's deep-seated and unreckonable horror. I find it to be a sure sign of a good time. Well, perhaps not for everyone.

I remember when this song was released. Juniore's haunting vocals over the familiar bass droll and ghoulish electric organ set the scene for many a debaucherous night. Brings me back to the '60's. A terrible decade for style, in my opinion. Far too much color.

Pardon, I am rambling on. I will find you some party-wear so you might stand out a little less. Nothing to be done about the heat of your skin or the rich scent of your pumping, sacred heart-blood, but we can at least address the clothes. Deux minutes.

Black Night - Cheryl Thompson

And my heart keeps on asking:

Oh, where did my lover go?

Another excellent song choice, my darling human. Oh my, did I startle you? I did say deux minutes, did I not?

There, that's better. Try not to spill anything on the velvet cloak, it was my dear aunt's, may her soul rest indefinitely, when she was but a caretaker of the city belfry. And careful with that cravat, too. When I say it is a relic from the Regency era, I very much mean it. It's what you people call vintage.

You'll have to replay this song later in the night, as my disappointment for missing it is immeasurable. I have danced across a thousand ballrooms as this echoed in the chambers, swept along in the intoxicating steps of my lovers, the candlelight fending off the Black Night of which she speaks. Even I still feel the hair on my neck rise as this record seeps into the dark, and what better night to invite the darkness in, on this Blackest of Nights?

I'm Gonna Haunt You - Fabienne Delsol

I’m gonna haunt you

Haunt you till your dying day

Are you aiming to send the undead straight to the dance floor? It appears to be working. Color me impressed. Even us of the photo-sensitive sort cannot resist losing ourselves beneath the colored lights of a nightclub when met with a snappy, alluring proposition from Fabienne Delsol.

Hypsoline - La Femme

Âmes fidèles, amours tendres

Regards noirs, mémoires blanches

Sur mes hanches, tu t'épanches

Et soudain tu t'élances

La Femme is low-hanging fruit of Halloween, and contrary to popular superstition, it is of the sweetest variety. Superstition is exactly what this album perpetuates in its surf-gothic guitar riffs and punctuated, sultry vocals--you cannot trust a word that is spoken for fear of being ensorcelled in the dark landscape of Psychotropical Berlin, of which this album is named.

Honestly, if you are tired, you can simply leave this album to run through as a set. It is a crowd favorite amongst us children de la nuit and, unsurprisingly, humans too. The living are always trailing in our footsteps.

Bela Lugosi's Dead - Bauhaus

The virginal brides file past his tomb

Strewn with time's dead flowers

Bereft in deathly bloom

Alone in a darkened room... The Count!

Bela Lugosi's dead

Ah, I see you've elected to end your reign as our token warm-blooded disc-jockey on a tried-and-true classic. Bauhaus captivated me in ways that many bands of that era could not quite pin, the silence between the bass plucking creating that lush, velvet canvas on which a ravenously gothic picture is painted. The anticipation of the next note breeds a feeling in me that is equivalent to a sort of dread that I cannot stop craving.

D'accord, my sweet human. You have done well. I will relieve you of your station so you might explore the party a little more intimately. I can see you eyeing the bar, but I warn you:

The red they are pouring is not wine.