William Bell & Tobe Hooper – The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Auris Apothecary edition)

4 out of 5

Label: Auris Apothecary

Produced by: William Bell & Tobe Hooper (?)

I’m not sure I ever would have called for this – an audio version of TCM, dialogue and sound effects altogether – but its existence makes sense: William Bell’s and Tobe Hooper’s atmospheric additions to the movie, a “score” of sorts, would not likely amount to much runtime on their own, but are definitely of utmost importance to the impact of the flick, and do deserve study. Whether or not these recordings (recorded to cassette from VHS by Auris Apothecary, but existing in this general form going back to – according to discogs – a 2006 version) maybe couldn’t be extracted from the source, there’s also value in hearing them tied to the movie, and further value in having the experience separated from the visuals, as it highlights how surreal, and otherworldly, and unique Hooper’s film was and is; how its very open-ended, loosey-goosey storytelling is so admired by the likes of Rob Zombie and such, but really cannot be effectively imitated. And especially how brutal those atmospherics are, laying on blasts of distortion and animal sounds at the more disturbing moments.

Of course, it helps to know the movie. While I think some of this could function as an audio book of sorts, there are absolutely bits that require the visuals, not only as an enhancement, but because we’re capturing the whole kit and kaboodle here – all the silences, since there’s no music otherwise – and some of the movie’s cuts aren’t clear in this format, some of this stuff just doesn’t work unless you know the context.

But: how much of it does work – how chilling the screams are; how creepy the family is; how annoying Franklin is – is quite astounding, a testament to the natural vibe Hooper captured, and how utterly unnerving Bell’s / Tobe’s addition are (stray radio broadcasts / tracks; atmospheric oddball noises).

Captured on delightfully hissy cassette by AA, with a grindhouse vibe via the black, stamped cassette, mimicking something you’d pick up in a dollar bin unawares, go home and listen to, and then have to turn all the lights on.