In fear of disguising my warping seathing
Pressure lines and graceless heirs
Intangible of price
Trying so hard to find what? What was right
I came upon your room it stuck into my head
We leapt into the bed degrading even lice
You took delight in taking down
All my shielded pride…

As I type this, we’re literally at Halloween Eve. No, I’m not leaving cookies out for Michael Myers or whatever. If there are cookies, I’m eating them all for myself, thank you very much. Sacrifice your own Nutter Butters to a slasher. These are my cookies tonight.

Speaking of tonight… you know how some songs go bump in the night? Dark Entries by Bauhaus ain’t one of them. Flipping the script, Dark Entries plays out like the night bumping back.

Released in 1980, right as post punk was mutating into full blown goth, Dark Entries storms in with that unmistakable Daniel Ash guitar assault. No romance, no mystery, no mist. Just jagged electricity. Peter Murphy’s vocals arrive urgent and unfiltered like someone shaking you awake from a dream you felt safer in.

And quite frankly, that sense of tension and irresolution starts from note one. This feels like a midnight horror story and we were dropped in halfway through. Murphy and company don’t even care if we keep up. Good luck though.

Dark Entries is a maddening race where we missed the opening gun, thrusting us through corridors we don’t remember entering. Murphy sounds like he is trying to outrun his own shadow, while the bass and drums keep gaining behind him. You can practically hear the walls narrowing around the band as they play.

All of it is tantamount to paranoia without poetry. Pure anxiety lacking anything tangible to render it emotionally negotiable. Dark Entries forms a jagged but direct line into the part of the brain that keeps you up at three in the morning because something feels wrong even if you have zero idea what the hell it is. But the dread remains immediate and very physical.

So if you need a good scare? Good news: no monsters required. Your own maddened anxieties are enough.

Until exposed became my darker side
Puckering up and down some avenue of sin
Too cheap to ride they’re worth a try
If only for the old times cold times
Don’t go waving your pretentious love
He’s soliciting on his tan brown brogues
Gyrating through some lonesome devils row
Pinpointing well meaning upper class prey…