Little Evil Things II offers
spin through yuppie hell
Little Evil Things II seems determined to take listeners on a spin through yuppie hell.
All four short stories on the newest CD from Frank Macchia and Tracy London feature young, upscale characters being slowly consumed by their own sins and fears. This is the kind of joyously malicious horror that can't miss.
Listeners will either identify with the victims ... or cheer for the monsters. Admittedly, I'm in the latter category on this one.
Unlike the majority of books-on-tape glutting the market these days, Little Evil Things II uses a cast of actors and actresses to dramatize horror stories specifically written for performance. Macchia's soundtrack is another plus. Sometimes heavy and driving, sometimes jaunty and sometimes filled with menace, Macchia always manages to match music to mood as the tales unwind.
The CD begins with a tale called The Thing in the Jar. If you've ever been cheated on ... or felt like you were doing all the work while someone else took all the credit ... you'll cheer for the thing.
Sisters is a tale of Siamese twins gone bad ... really, horribly, viciously bad. Fortunately, there's a happy ending ... sort of.
It's in the Water is definitely not recommended for folks who like to spend their leisure time relaxing by the pool. But you'll love it if you've ever been told, "It's all in your head."
Last, but not least, is Blubb ... my personal favorite. Have you ever wondered what happens to all that fat that gets sucked off during liposuction? In a place like Beverly Hills, it could be a serious problem if that stuff was allowed to build up somewhere ... especially in a lightning storm ...
Once again, Macchia and London, along with a great cast of actors and musicians, have produced a CD that's sure to frighten even as it makes you laugh. Not only is it a successful sequel to their first collection of horrific stories, it's also the grimly amusing reminder of how much fun being scared can be.
Little Evil Things II is available on CD or cassette.
Originally published in the November 1998 issue of Purple Prose.
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