Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to Heaven where the angels fly
They go to the lake of fire and fry
See ’em again ’til the fourth of July!
I knew a lady who came from Duluth
Bit by a dog with a rabid tooth
She went to her grave just a little too soon
Flew away howling on the yellow moon…
You know I was originally going to go with “Where Did You Sleep Last Night”, the album closer from Nirvana’s final release, 1993’s MTV Unplugged in New York, but I pulled an audible an switched to the equally impressive Lake of Fire.
The reason is simple: this playlist has got WAY too many murder ballads. And I love me some murder ballads, don’t get me wrong. The older and bleaker, the better. However, I’m not quite in the mindset to feature yet another tale of a jealous husband murdering his wife and awaiting that one-way express ticket to Hell.
Speaking of which, that segues nicely into Lake Of Fire, Nirvana’s scorching cover of a Meat Puppets tune from a decade earlier. Amid the sparse arrangements, Kurt Cobain’s piercingly heartfelt vocal delivery, and the subject matter at hand, this haunted ballad delivers all the Halloween atmosphere in full 90s indie rock splendor.
Cobain infuses a child-like confusion into the minor-key balladry, as he ruminates upon the nature of the soul and eternity. Specifically, the “What Happens Next” once we pass the threshold into the eternal afterlife, alongside a terse bit of how to make existence work while cosmic entities are battling for possession of your soul.
From that angle, this is all basic stuff, but Nirvana does the Meat Puppets justice with their interpretation of Lake Of Fire. They lend the song both gravitas and innocence, the latter of which maybe why the song so deeply connects. After all, we’re nothing in the grand scope of existence, just a brief flare in an eternal night. A flare that might keep burning elsewhere.
People cry and people moan
Look for a dry place to call their home
Try to find some place to rest their bones
While the angels and the devils try to make them their own
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to Heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the lake of fire and fry
See ’em again ’til the fourth of July…
