Songs & Sounds of H.P. Lovecraft & The Cthulhu Mythos

PAGE 751....the missing page of Dr. Dee's English version of The Necronomicon that sent a freakish Wilbur Whateley to the library at Miskatonic University in hopes of "borrowing" the Latin version held in the school library. A disturbed yet thankfully keen Dr. Henry Armitage was thankfully present to deny Wilbur the loan, but not before he was able to find the passage that he was searching for. Dr. Armitage peered over the shoulder of the unholy, entity we know as Wilbur Whateley and read these cursed lines that were to chill him to the bone....the long chant to open the gates to the dreaded Yog-Sothoth!

Written by H.P. Lovecraft in 1920, "Nyarlathotep" introduces us to this child of Azathoth, who walks the Earth doing the bidding of the Outer Gods. He is also known as "The Creeping Chaos". With the ability to take on many forms, he is described in this story as being Pharoah-like.

#cthulhumythos #cthulhu #hplovecraft #cthulhu #cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #lovecraft In 1932 as Dr. Henry Armitage of Miskatonic University continued his research relating to weird occult phenomenon and esoteric cult activity with the help of what few students would return to accompany him after the frightful discoveries the following year, this recording was made in the area around Morgantown, West Virginia. While discussing his work with a professor of social anthropology on the campus of West Virginia University, Dr. Armitage was made aware of strange traditions in the music of the local squatters that lived around 8 miles west of the university. Armitage could not resist the opportunity to gather what he hoped would be more clues that would help tie together the loosely knitted hints of a nationwide, or dare he think, worldwide cult tradition of the "Old Ones". The West Virginia University professor obliged him the opportunity and led him to the ragged encampment two days after. After reaching the small, rustic community that day, what Dr. Armitage and his students gleaned from the half-drunk, unkempt squatters left them quite puzzled and yet terrified. As the obviously uneducated and illiterate group of musician began syncopate, a strange sense of sober intensity seemed to grip them and the music began to take on an almost ritualistic fervor. The song that Dr. Armitage and his uneasy students gathered that day referred to a "Haunter Of The Dark" and a "Church Of Starry Wisdom on Federal Hill", but at that time they were unaware of any such location. It would be but a few years later that Dr. Armitage would learn of strange and harrowing events in Providence, Rhode Island that would make the tale of the song much more terrifying and real, but yet no clearer as to the entity that was involved. What amazed Armitage even further upon learning of the events that took place in Providence years later, was that the mountain squatters could have known or had even heard tell of such a legend in a location so far away or so many years before it became more evident to learned circles. Dr. Armitage thought to himself many times...."If only young Robert Blake could have heard this recording....perhaps he would be with us today".

This poem by the Master Of Cosmic Horror, H.P. Lovecraft was published in The Vagrant in 1918. Set here to the heavy metal music that this tell of dread deserves!

#cthulhu #cthulhumythos #hplovecraft Recorded in 1931 around the Louisiana Delta outside of New Orleans by Henry Armitage and his students from Miskatonic University of Arkham, Massachusetts during their field research concerning lore and facts surrounding the rise of esoteric and fiendish occult happenings around the nation. The recording is rough and ends abruptly, but offers an insight into how quickly the "news" of strange doings had spread since the events of the "Dunwich Horror" and that perhaps a network of sorts existed between the practitioners of such evil rituals throughout the landscape. Armitage was baffled and terrified to hear this unnamed, elderly gentleman who had no use of his legs and was missing an ear quickly and effortlessly offer him this "folk song" concerning events he could not have known took place and whom...or what....was involved. Armitage and subsequent reviewers also stood in puzzlement as to who or what the identity of the "HP Lovecraft" or "Haitche P Lovecraft" was and if he was a real "being". They prayed that he wasn't like Wilbur and shuddered at the thought of him being...worse. Armitage returned in an effort to locate the unknown singer two years later after he had gathered more information, in hopes of gleaning any clues to further his research. The locals said the man was gone. When asked if he had passed away, the locals all were evasive in their responses. They said "He gone. And he ain't never comin' back cause the Old Ones "took him".".

#cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #cthulhu #hplovecraft #cthulhu #cthulhumythos Debuting in September of 1938 in New Orleans, "Master In The Deep" took audiences aback during it's extremely brief run at the La Pierre Theatre, which sat in a particularly seedy side of the Crescent City. The initial performance, of which this recording is taken from. was attended by mostly a "friendly" audience. That being, the majority of the patrons at first performance were connoisseurs of the occult or at least its fringes. Subsequent performances would bring outrage and the demise of the theatre and the mysterious disappearance of most of the cast. The "musical" was brought to the La Pierre by an eccentric artist named Raster Morneau, who was known to associate with the darker elements around the New Orleans area. Not originally from the area, Morneau had been run out of New York City and later Chicago over 15 years before due to what many had whispered were "deviant" behaviors. New Orleans was a natural landing spot for a character like Raster after the years directly following The Great War. The seeming mixing pot of African pagan religions and Latin American Catholicism along with downright witchcraft that existed throughout the area for decades had slowly built a facade of "acceptability" amongst the more "civilized" in New Orleans society and in fact, many made fortunes selling trinkets and souvenirs that on the surface, reduced the city's sinister undercurrent to a fairy tale fit for tourists and thrill seekers. Therefore the people of New Orleans were no strangers to bizarre performances and beliefs and Morneau's feature raised not an eyebrow from the locals before it's debut. However, when the curtain was raised at the La Pierre on the night of the second Saturday in September of 1938, events would unfold quickly that would leave those who attended disturbed and later wondering what had happened after the curtain dropped. The gallery for the debut was filled with a virtual who's who of New Orleans mystics and occult figures and many others that seemed to ooze in from the surrounding swamps and appeared to have never stepped foot into a building with plumbing or electric lights. This element remained silent and fixated throughout the performance. They all seemed to show no emotion, but remained for the entirety of the show and then quietly left their seats, moved out the door and said not a word. This lot seemed to bring guarded worry from some of the wilder and outrageous characters that were in attendance that evening. The following night the show was once again attended by a nearly capacity crowd. However, this time many in the gallery were not from the circles that had filled the hall the night before. These were more "normal" people. What they witnessed left them confused and filled with a sense of dread that they could not easily explain. The forms that danced on stage were strange, very strange. The costumes were unearthly and the movements were very unnatural. The musical numbers were contemporary, but the subject matter was filled with characters and references that they had never heard of....and instinctively wanted no part of. They all left that night feeling as if they had just witnessed a catastrophic accident. There was a trauma that they felt had occurred, but no one could explain exactly how they felt. One patron was heard to say, "I feel like I've had a curse put on me". The next performance was the following Tuesday. The gallery was only half full as the lights dimmed. The show began with no incident, but after approximately 23 minutes, the stage lighting failed and several screams range out. The theater was pitch black and chaos ensued. No one seemed to be able to find the doors that had been not even a row away from them. Suddenly amidst the murky disorder, there came a deep, almost sub-sonic droning. The room fell silent as the fumbling and terrified patrons were practically paralyzed by the sound. A sound they could hear, but could also...feel. Soon, the smell of smoke was announced by one of the patrons that was now renewed with panic. The pandemonium that followed could never be accurately be put to page, but with the another 15 minutes, the La Pierre was engulfed in flames. Curiously, those who witnessed the fire said the flames were "a sickly bluish green....like the color of swamp water". City fire teams arrived, but nothing could be done. They found no survivors. In fact, they found no one dead or alive, not a trace of a human remain of any kind. It would appear that there had been no one in the theater at all. In the days that followed, the authorities remained puzzled but quickly moved to minimize the knowledge of the event among the public-at-large. Many "out of town" vehicles were seen in the days that followed and the site of the old La Pierre was unceremoniously flattened within days. Raster Morneau was never seen again.

#cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #cthulhu #hplovecraft #cthulhu #cthulhumythos A rare recording by a Rockabilly band based out of Arkham, Massachusetts made up of deviant drop-outs from Miskatonic University. This music was evidently circulated amongst the "less desirable folk" in the backrooms of illicit, reefer smoke filled, coffee houses in the area at the time. It is unknown at this time if any other songs were recorded by the group and if the subsequent subject matter was the same. No doubt these derelict "students" had contact with a growing esoteric underground of former graduates and professors from Miskatonic University and perhaps those that once studied under the late Dr. Henry Armitage.

#cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #scarystories #hplovecraft #cthulhumythos #cthulhu #halloween #scarystories Found in a box of otherwise broken and shattered 78 rpm records, this eerie recording of an "unknown" person or persons reciting/performing the early H.P. Lovecraft poem "Halloween In A Suburb" is a disturbing, quaint presentation of some of Lovecraft's oldest work. It is rumored that this was recorded by a set of eccentric, conjoined twin brothers in 1940. While their names are lost to time, it is said that each would play guitar with the hands that were given to their individual control, albeit on opposite torsos. A strange site indeed. The twins shared a common abdomen and one centralized malformed leg. Both brothers would sing in complete almost perfect unison as if speaking from a central brain. This would only occur when singing or reciting/reading a written passage. Some claim that they had travelled with a carnival in their early years and strange, rhythmic chants were heard to come from their shabby trailer at times, especially after a thunderstorm and when the resident "fortune teller" could not be found around the carnival grounds.... The poem was originally featured in "The National Amateur" in March 1926. No doubt this recording was made by one of the early devotees to the dark and mysterious lore that surrounded The Mythos and Lovecraft. Just add this to the strange and disturbing recordings that have surfaced recently and are presented on this playlist.

#cthulhumythos #hplovecraft #cthulhu #hplovecraft #cthulhumythos #cthulhu Your curiosity in touring seaport towns of American antiquity has unwisely led you to step onboard a ramshackle bus that will take you down the desolate road that leads to the cursed town of Innsmouth. You immediately start to feel a brooding uneasiness as you half settle into one of the worn out seats next to the window and begin peering across the landscape. As the bus moves along the rutted road, you begin to feel an ever increasing sense of dread that seems to build in waves, just like the oily, black waters of the sea appear to scrape and claw at the shore in the distance. The anxiousness and despair builds as the minutes seem like hours. Just in a moment it is suddenly replaced by a horror that seems to burst from deep in you chest. Then you see it. It welcomes you as its prisoner. You've arrived. Innsmouth.