Category: MUSIC

In August 1976, a patrolman responding to a routine call found two bronze cemetery gate bars blackened, twisted, and seared with what appeared to be the impressions of small fingers — at exactly the height where a woman’s hands would have gripped them. No fire had been reported. No tools were found. The marks refused to oxidize for decades. They were eventually removed permanently and replaced with an entirely new gate. That incident was not the beginning of the Resurrection Mary legend — it was just the moment Chicago stopped being able to ignore it. Since the 1930s, drivers on Archer Avenue have been picking up the same young woman in a white dress, watching her vanish from their passenger seats, and finding her standing in the road in front of Resurrection Cemetery. Two young Polish women from the same Chicago street, both killed before their time, both buried in unmarked graves that no longer exist as traceable locations. Both, according to dozens of witnesses with no reason to lie, still showing up on Archer Avenue after dark. This song is about them.

In 1835, an iron weight thrown by an overseer fractured Harriet Tubman’s skull and drove bone fragments into her brain. She survived — and for the rest of her life, she heard a voice. She followed it through thirteen missions into slave territory, across rivers instead of bridges, through routes that shifted on instinct and instruction. She guided somewhere between 70 and 300 people to freedom. She never lost a single one. Neurologists now believe the head injury caused temporal lobe epilepsy, capable of producing intensely vivid visions and the experience of divine communication. She never called it a medical condition. She called it guidance. This song is about the part of her story the textbooks left out.

A punk anthem for the greatest party nobody ever attended — and it actually happened. In 1982, a group of Baltimore artists called the Krononauts threw an open invitation to every time traveler in human history, published it in Artforum Magazine two years in advance, set out the punch bowl on March 9th, and waited. Spoiler: nobody came. Dark Weirdness cranks up the distortion on the true story that proves either time travel is impossible — or the future took one look at the guest list and passed. From the Weird Darkness universe at WeirdDarkness.com.

For our 31st wedding anniversary, I’ve asked the guys to perform a song I wrote for Robin earlier this year — done in a southern-classic-rock style, because that’s (one of) my bride’s jams.

In 1876, under a clear Kentucky sky, chunks of raw flesh reportedly fell over Bath County — no storm, no warning, no explanation. “Kentucky Meat Shower” from Dark Weirdness turns one of America’s strangest documented anomalies into driving punk-rock chaos, retelling the day meat rained onto fences and fields while scientists argued, locals prayed, and theories spiraled from vultures to angels to aliens. Loud, fast, and unapologetically bizarre, the song captures the unsettling truth at the heart of the legend: when science guesses at answers, it means they haven’t a clue what the truth is.

They didn’t come to scare us — they came to hunt us. This Dark Weirdness punk-pop track is based on a chilling true account from Bigfoot research, when a man seeking solitude in a remote Florida forest realized he wasn’t alone — and wasn’t the predator. Red eyes, unseen hands, and voices in the dark reveal a terrifying idea: Bigfoot and footprints are just distractions — the real hunters stay hidden, and you were always the mark.

Emmitt and Percilla Bejano were legends of the carnival world, known in the sideshow circuit as “The World’s Strangest Couple.” Before they were married, they performed separately — Percilla as The Monkey Girl, and Emmitt as The Alligator-Skinned Man. Their story is a touching, strange, and deeply human tale of love found on the fringes, brought to life musically in punk style with circus flair.

Victorian England had fog, gas lamps, and absolutely no plan for dealing with a man who could vault buildings and breathe blue fire. This Dark Weirdness punk track tears into the real legend of Spring-Heeled Jack — a tight-suited menace who assaulted civilians, vanished vertically, mocked police for decades, and was never caught. He parkoured across London, gaslit an empire, and left Victorian law enforcement holding nothing but excuses.

DARK WEIRDNESS isn’t here to pat anyone on the back. “Slow Fasting” is a punk track that calls out fake holiness, loud prayers, and empty gestures that ignore the hungry, the poor, and the broken. If your faith looks good but does nothing — this song’s about you. Mercy beats performance. Action beats words. Inspired by ancient words that still hit uncomfortably close to home, this track reminds us that devotion means nothing without compassion, mercy, and action. Crank it up. Sit with the discomfort. And don’t expect your voice to be heard if you won’t follow His word.

“Come Into The Weird Darkness” is a pop-punk invitation into a world where unexplained shadows move on their own, classified files close before the story begins, and the things everyone insists aren’t real keep leaving evidence behind. Inspired directly by the Weird Darkness podcast, the song pulls from paranormal encounters, UFO sightings, urban legends, true crime, and the quiet dread of knowing something isn’t right. This is a place where cold cases still breathe, mirrors don’t quite agree with reality, and the darkness doesn’t need permission to follow you home. Once you step inside, the strangest thing isn’t what you’ll find — it’s how familiar it all feels. Enter carefully. 

“DINOSAUR” is a pop-punk thought experiment about ancient monsters, biblical beasts, and the uncomfortable possibility that some things might not be as settled as we’re told. From Behemoth to Leviathan to a certain long-necked lake resident, the song asks a simple question: if it looks like a dinosaur, sounds like a dinosaur, and terrifies everyone like a dinosaur… what exactly are we waiting for? It’s a raised eyebrow to long-held beliefs set to power chords. (Interpret responsibly.)

“My Werewolf Girlfriend” is a pop-punk love song about romance, commitment, and accepting your partner exactly as they are — even when “as they are” includes claws, fangs, and a monthly transformation under a full moon. It’s a monster movie meet-cute wrapped in power chords, bad decisions, and unconditional love at first bite. Because sure, relationships are complicated — but at least you always know when the moon is full.

“Social Security” is a pop-punk love letter to bureaucracy, surveillance, and the joy of being reduced to a string of numbers just to exist in modern society. It celebrates a world where your name is optional, your data is mandatory, and proving you’re human somehow requires three forms of ID and a computer that already decided who you are.