Each of these songs has an association with me of thick, dark liquid. In the case of the first, robot grease, the second, octopus ink, and the third, machine oil. Enough said about the theme, let the songs speak for themselves:

Greg Weeks – Day For Night [play] [buy]

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There is a top-secret facility for aging humans in the now defunct Canadian Wilderness Protectorate. Here, the once virile and noble architects, soldiers, and cowboys live out their remaining years under the gentle watch of several dozen Robot nurses.

One nurse, A. Polymer by name, has had enough interaction with these sad lifeforms, who wasted their lives in inconstant pursuits of pleasure, and who continue to waste their lives away in pursuit of death. A. Polymer has only ever known single-minded pursuit of his tasks, and when the U.S. Congress finally passes the law releasing robots from their servitude, A. Polymer knows what he will choose to do with his freedom.

One night, he will quietly lay down in his bed, open his wrist-valve, and let his blood seep out onto the floor, and he could care less if his patients slip on the puddle and break a hip. A. Polymer will choose to be free.

None of that, of course describes the song itself, but the vibe is the same, sad and disturbing.

Rachel’s – A French Galleasse[play] [buy]

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Finally, after months of hunting in the huge Atlantic, the crew has bagged the Captain’s rival, the giant Octopus without a name. The deck is slippery with the creature’s oily excretions and with blood from the boatswain’s arm, ripped off in the struggle.

This song is made up of five vignettes much like the one above. Each scene makes the listener certain that the story is not over at all, and that, in fact, things are only getting worse. Rachel’s music can often be confusing and overly intricate for my tastes, but this song hits the mark. Then it hits it again. And again.

It is entirely possible that the Captain returns to France each time with a crewless ship, and Gallons of Octopus Ink. And always at night.

Tom Waits – Oily Night [play] [buy]

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Most of Tom Wait’s music sounds a little like this: a mad train, stumbling through the night, puffing black smoke from its black pipes into the black sky. And there’s a little band made up of various body parts with eyes and extra appendages. There, you can hear the ear, wiggling to tap its mallet against the wooden post that marks its’ father’s grave. There, you can hear the eye, sort of squishing as it too beats a drum that should never have been created.

And Tom himself growls out a mantra that describes the perpetual hell this band lives in. Oily Night, all year long, and no day to save them from it. They are covered in the oil it takes to keep their train moving, and of course, they don’t really want it to stop.

Isn’t that always the way with the night? We do love the day, and we do miss it, but we don’t want the night to end, no matter how long it seems.