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Rating: What sound does a fairy tale make? These stories of a handful of pages are like secret caskets: they gather the seeds of all the narratives that will come. They aim straight for the heart of the narrative pathos, enchanting you like old creaky music boxes; from their simple weave branch out all the great literary masterpieces... To think they paint a world of cotton candy is a mistake made when barely skimming the surface. Those who have lifted the veil of "and they lived happily ever after" have found a world made of misery and blood, of cannibal witches and despair. The prince charming kisses his beloved after decapitating heads in some absurd battle. There's not only the happy ending (because yes, there is that)... something lurks within those lines and whispers when the lights go out. Something unsettling. Something "spooky".
It's 1988 when two children who never grew up find themselves together in a recording studio. In reality, for them, it's nothing more than a park full of rides and games. That their names are piano, bass drum, snare drum, or guitar matters little. They approach these instruments as an infant would with any bucket of sand: they touch, examine, and dabble without having to pay much attention to whoever calls them home at sunset. Without intellectual projects, without snobbish pretensions, without premeditation... they play and give expression to that attitude found in children at play with their toys. "Who cares if I've never touched a drum set? If it's there, it means anyone can put their hands on it.” Perhaps that's exactly what an infant thinks upon seeing an unfamiliar object. In that case, there's no fear or technical inability to hold them back. Some might call it a "naive attitude," but these are words used by those who see it all from the outside... here, there's no need for all these categories and specifications. And so they start drumming on the skins without thinking too much about what to do. They play a simple and hypnotic line with the first instrument at hand. They take turns using this or that toy. They tune nursery rhymes, and sometimes they recite by heart some of their favorite pieces (covers, for the uninitiated). From all this, someone might demand a pure replica of the happy and carefree world of childhood.
But who said that for a child everything is clear and joyful? The monster under the bed can truly be scary, losing sight of one's mom might draw the attention of some big bad wolf. That's why even the most carefree nursery rhyme can hide bloody and painful stories. Joyful and whimsical songs can turn into gloomy chants of despair (a tangible example: "Summertime").
All this exudes from the 31 tracks (or 30? or 25? But are they all tracks?) of "It’s Spooky." The result of the meeting of these two Peter Pans is a mix of jingles and merry-go-rounds, collage and funny attempts to emulate the adult world (above all the improbable final cover of the Butthole Surfers). Unintentionally, without ever deciding on it, they aim directly at the core of every respectable composition. They bring everything back to the origin. And if they succeed, it is only because they have never left that primordial soup. People who just need a pencil and a sheet to create an entire universe. So this would indeed be the sound of a fairy tale.
A handful of lines, a linear and simple story... and the world to come will no longer be able to do without it.
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