‘The Face,’ a Horror Short Story

Stella, a pretty young brunette, looked around at the other university students surrounding the campfire with her that night and asked, “So, does anybody know any good ghost stories?”

Cory, a blond, clean-shaven young man in a T-shirt and jean shorts, said, “Well, I once heard a claim some of the people living near here insist is true.”

“And what claim is that?” she asked.

“That a witch lives in the woods surrounding this camp,” he said.

Everyone other than him let out a big “Ooh!”

One of them said, imitating Burt Ward, “Holy Blair Witch Project, Batman!”

The others laughed.

“Allegedly, a witch has haunted these woods for many decades,” he went on. “She pulls her victims into a deathtrap slowly, insidiously, the victims being people who have come here for camping.”

His listeners let out another “Ooh!”

“If this story is true,” Stella asked, “then why hasn’t anybody heard any reports of missing persons leading to this camp, with police investigating? If people have spoken about a witch here, why haven’t any of us, or anyone else, for all we know, heard about it?”

“Because,” he said, “the witch uses her magic to throw off the scent anyone trying to find the missing people, so no one suspects that there’s any evil in these woods. Police and anyone else investigating are led to believe the victims went missing somewhere else, and only the locals here know about the witch.”

“Oh, what a cheap cop-out!” one of the listeners said, amid a chorus of boos and groans from the others. 

“I suppose so, but that’s the story I heard,” Cory went on. “Anyway, they say that the witch gets you, actually, right when you hear a story about another group going missing here. The listeners get sucked right up into the story and join its victims in the same fate.”

The listeners let out a third “Ooh!”

“If that’s so,” Stella asked, “then how did you come to know this story about a group of the witch’s victims?”

“How do you know I’m about to tell such a story?” Cory asked.

“I just assumed you were about to,” she said.

“Look, I just told you a fact that the locals here believe in,” he said. “I wasn’t about to tell an actual ghost story. Anyway, do you all remember the Daltons? That family, all of them blonds, remember? They went on vacation in Europe three years ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” Manny said, a man with short black hair. All the other listeners nodded, having remembered the Dalton family. “What happened to them? I haven’t heard from them since they left.”

“Well,” Cory began, “they were going in their car on the way to the airport, and their car broke down on the highway not too far from here.”

“Not too far from here?” Manny said with a sneer.

“Well, yeah,” Cory said. “As you’ll recall, we’re all not too far from here, in our hometown just a mile or so from this forest, as the Daltons were, and as the airport is, too, so it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise to you.”

“Very well,” Stella said. “Go on.”

“Anyway, they tried calling someone for help, but they must have had a bad connection, so they eventually gave up trying. Looking around there on the side of the road, Mr. Dalton found the trees and the scenery really beautiful, really charming, and since the family had packed tents and stuff like that, and it was getting late, he thought they could pitch their tents for the night and try to get help the next morning.”

“Why?” Manny asked, sneering again in disbelief. “They’d have missed their flight by then, wouldn’t they have?”

“Wasn’t anybody else driving up that road at the time, someone who could have helped them?” Stella asked. “Surely there was somebody driving around there.”

“Apparently, next to nobody else was driving around at the time, or else they would have simply gotten the help, gone to the airport on time, flown off to Europe, and come back to tell us all what happened to them.”

“Why aren’t they back home?” Manny asked. “Since they’d disappeared, how do you know what happened to them?”

“I met someone recently who found out, and she told me the whole story,” Cory said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get back to who she was later. Anyway, the Daltons felt really enamoured of the beauty of the place, so they went in among the trees, pitched their tents, and went to sleep.”

“And what happened the next morning?” Stella asked.

“Oh, we haven’t finished with what happened that night,” he said.

“We all know,” she said with a sneer of her own. “The witch got them, right?”

Everyone laughed, even Cory.

“Yeah, and the witch is gonna get us, too, for hearing this story here,” Manny said. “Ooh!”

Everyone, including Cory, laughed even louder.

“C’mon, no,” he said with continued laughing. “This isn’t that kind of story, really. This is a normal one, nothing supernatural, but still interesting—just what really happened to them, according to what this woman told me a little while back.”

“I’m guessing they made it to Europe, found they liked it there, and decided to stay there,” she said.

“And they were such jerks, they never said goodbye to any of their neighbours in town,” Manny said.

More laughs.

“Well, anyway, let me carry on with what happened that night,” Cory said. “They were all lying there in their tents—Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, and their three kids, two boys and a girl around their pre-teen years—just dozing off, and the grating, rasping noise of some bird just outside was heard, rousing all five of them.”

“Oh, how annoying,” Anna, a woman with long, wavy red hair, said.

“Yeah,” Cory went on. “Mr. Dalton was really angry. All of the family got out of their tents to see what was making the noise. It was pitch black out, but they got out their flashlights, and Mr. Dalton had a baseball bat to swat at the bird with.”

“Silly thing to do,” Trevor, a man with long, dark brown hair, said.

“Oww!” Stella grunted. Everybody looked at her. “Some horsefly or something bit me.”

“Will you be OK?” Anna asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Stella said. “Carry one with your story, Cory.”

“Anyway, yeah, sure, Mr. Dalton was being silly, but he was mad, and angry people do foolish things, don’t they? The family pointed their flashlights at the animal to get a decent look at it, which was hard, since it was flying about and dodging the light. Mr. Dalton was swinging his bat in a fury. What they did see of the bird, though, was that it was one they couldn’t recognize as being one they, or anyone else, had ever seen before.”

“What did it look like?” Anna asked. 

Stella looked over at her and saw blonde hair in the flickering light of the campfire. Her eyes widened. Isn’t she a redhead? she asked herself.

“Oww!” Anna groaned. “That horsefly just got me.” Like Stella, she was rubbing the bite mark. The other listeners looked around, but couldn’t see any insect.

“The bird was brightly feathered, a bit like a toucan,” Cory went on. “A lot of blue, purple, and yellow feathers. It had a long, sharp beak. It flew around really fast, darting here and there, back and forth, up and down. Mr. Dalton was getting really frustrated, and his family was telling him to stop swinging the bat, because of course what he was doing was pointless. Still, he wouldn’t stop trying to hit the bird; he was getting obsessive about it, like a madman.”

“Wow, you seem to know this story in the most minute detail,” Trevor said. Anna looked over at him and saw short blond hair on him. 

Surprised, she thought, Blond now? When did he get a haircut?

“Yeah, I really know a lot of detail,” Cory said with a chuckle. “The woman who told me the story remembered all the details so well, and I found the story so compelling that I managed to remember all of them. Anyway, at one point, after Mr. Dalton had been swinging that bat for a while, I guess the bird got tired of dodging it, and it swooped down and pecked him hard on the head. He groaned in pain, dropped the bat, and fell on the ground. His wife and kids went over to see if he was OK. He had blood coming out of his head. Mrs. Dalton put a flashlight to it to see it better, and she saw a mix of red and green pouring out of the wound.”

Now his listeners gave an “Ooh” that was serious. Stella and Anna also noticed something strange about Cory: no longer in a T-shirt and jean shorts, he was now wearing a dark brown robe, like that of a monk. The women shook their heads and looked again: yes, a robe was on him.

He continued: “As the family was looking with alarm at the red and green liquid, assuming the bird put the green there, it swooped down and pecked the wife and kids on the head, too, in one fell swoop. They all screamed in pain and fell to the ground beside Mr. Dalton.”

“I’m guessing they all had a mix of blood and green coming out of their heads, too,” Manny said. Stella looked at him and saw blond hair; her eyes and mouth widened at the sight.

“Yeah, presumably,” Cory said, “because I’ll tell you another thing: all of the family started to feel woozy. It was as if that green stuff was a drug injected into their bloodstreams, for the five of them were now getting up and staggering about, bumping into each other and into trees. They’d dropped all their flashlights, and they were wandering into the forest aimlessly.”

“Oww!” Manny said, then rubbed his neck.

“That horsefly seems to be getting us all,” Trevor said. “Oww! I got that right.”

Everyone except Cory looked around to try to find the ‘horsefly,’ but instead they saw a little glowing ball of changing colours—yellow, blue, and purple. 

“Strange colours for a firefly,”Manny said. “Is that what bit us?”

“I don’t see anything,” Cory said, looking away and frowning in annoyance at all these interruptions. “Shall I continue with my story? You don’t want to miss the ending.”

“Sure, of course,” Trevor said in a slurred voice. “Carry on.”

“As I was saying,” Cory said, “the Daltons were stumbling about in the dark, bumping into each other and into trees, falling down, getting back up, and stumbling about further into the forest.”

“Am I high?” Stella asked, looking about and seeing a blur.

“I feel stoned, too,” Manny slurred.

“My head is swimming,” Anna said.

All three of them, as well as Trevor, looked at Cory, who not only looked even more annoyed at their continued interrupting of his story, but who also had brown hair and a mustache and goatee connected in a circle around his mouth. Everything was getting blurrier and blurrier for them after that moment. The flames of the campfire were moving like ocean waves.

The four bitten listeners looked around at each other, straining to see detail. Instead of seeing, apart from Cory, the original people they’d come to camp with, they saw what seemed to be a blond family: a father, a mother, and three pre-teen kids—two boys, and a girl. Yes, one campfire member, a bald man, had been there but said nothing the whole time…or had he been there? Were the four hallucinating him before? None of them could remember for sure. In any case, he, if he’d been there originally, was one of this new family now…or a family member just appeared out of thin air.

“I’ll continue,” Cory said after a sigh of annoyance. “The Daltons continued blundering their way through the woods until they came close to a cliff.”

Stella looked up to her right and saw what looked like two black holes in the sky, just above the forest trees behind the campers’ tents. The holes seemed vaguely like eyes. 

“The Daltons all looked out of a clearing in the woods, past the cliff and out into the night sky,” Cory went on. “They looked out at the glowing stars. They were all mesmerized by the glow, staring stupidly at it.”

His listeners could hear the raspy squawking of some bird flying in circles over their heads. They felt compelled to stand up, watching the brightly coloured bird. It started flying away from the campfire, and they all followed it mindlessly.

“All right,” Cory said with a scowl. “I guess I’ll just have to get up and go along with all of you, if this is the only way I’ll be able to finish telling this story.” He got up and walked behind them.

As they were walking, following the bird and heading towards the trees behind their tents, Stella looked up and noticed those eye-like black holes following them, too, hovering up high in the air, darker than the shadows all around them.

She and the other listeners also looked at each other at one point, finding each other’s inexplicable change of appearance the oddest of blond. There was something vaguely familiar about how all five of them looked, but they at first couldn’t put their fingers on it.

They had come into the woods by now, going up a hill. They could hear Cory behind them, continuing to tell his story.

“Anyway,” he said, “as the family continued staring up at the stars in their state of rapt hypnotism, they began to see, in the blackness between the stars, what looked like the eyes, nostrils, and mouth of a face. These were all just holes, though each a distinct, darker black than that of the night sky.”

Stella looked down at herself and saw what she was wearing. What? she thought. I wasn’t wearing this! How and when did I change my clothes? Then she looked out at the blond others. The ‘father’ of the group…she remembered his face from somewhere. Is that Mr. Dalton? No, it couldn’t be!

That bird could still be heard making that grating call from up above them, obscured among the leaves in the trees. None of them could see its blue, yellow, and purple feathers at all.

“The face in the night sky began to talk to the Daltons,” Cory said from behind the group. He could have stopped talking, though, for his would-be listeners were too disoriented from the bites they’d gotten to be paying attention. They just kept walking up the incline in the woods, following the squawking of the hiding bird. He continued his story, all the same, though: “The face said, in the scratchy voice of an old crone, ‘You are mine. Come into my mouth.’”

Stella, feeling as if she were on a bad drug trip, got a mirror out of her purse as well as a flashlight. She turned it on with a shaky hand, and with her other shaky hand, she put the mirror up to her face. 

She didn’t see herself.

She saw Mrs. Dalton.

She looked to her right and saw Mr. Dalton.

The would-be listeners stopped walking, for they’d come to a clearing in the forest, and a cliff looking down to a lake. They weren’t interested in it, though: they looked instead up at the starry sky.

Stella was the first to notice those black hole eyes among the stars. A mouth-like hole was beginning to form below the eyes, as she could make out with her own eyes squinted. She looked around at all the others: all Daltons, the father, herself as the mother, and the two sons and daughter instead of her adult friends.

Cory, in his dark robe and looking more like a sorcerer’s apprentice than a monk, concluded his story with these words: “And so, the Daltons fell, not off the cliff and into the lake below, but into the mouth in the sky, which flew right at them and ate them up.”

“And that’s the end of the story?” Stella asked him in a trembling, slurred voice. 

She looked back at him and saw him nodding with a malevolent smirk. 

“And who is the woman who told you this story?” she asked.

“She is my master,” he said. “Look in front of you, if you’d like to meet her.”

Stella turned her head back to her front with the slowest of reluctance. Her eyes turned away from Cory, then past the three kids, then past Mr. Dalton, and finally up to the night sky, dreading what was there. 

There she saw the blackest of eyes, nostrils, and a mouth. The other Daltons were staring at the face, too, but in a euphoric daze.

The face was moving at them all faster and faster.

“You are mine,” it said in that scratchy voice. “Come into my MOUTH!!!”

Before they knew it, they were already inside.

‘Gaya,’ a Surreal Adventure–Chapter Thirteen (Final Chapter)

Tesel, Lia, and their surviving comrades watched all the bodies of the slain pass through Gaya’s rectum and go outside her planetary body.

“It’s sad to see our fellow fighters go out that way,” Lia said, “yet it’s also gratifying to see Aisa and the rest of our enemies being shat out. That is truly fitting.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Tesel said. “Speaking of shit, the stink here is intolerable.”

They left the rectum and passed through a tunnel leading to Gaya’s vagina. They then heard voices from above.

Cecil,look!Gaya’seyesopenedabit!
Hey,you’reright,Lila!Theydid!Isshecomingoutofhercoma?
Maybe.Ihopeso.

“The gods are speaking again,” Tesel said.

“Let’s go out that way ahead,” Lia said. “Maybe we’ll be able to hear what they’re saying more clearly.”

The warriors went through the birth canal to the opening. As they emerged, they felt a huge wave of water washing all over them, soothing their wounds and healing them. Coming out of Gaya’s birth canal, the warriors felt as if they were now newborn babies, innocent, unspotted…pure.

Their energy and strength were all brought back to them. They crawled up either side, along Gaya’s labia, in the direction of her clitoral hood. Tesel’s hands reached up and held on to the clitoral glans.

“Well,” he said with pleasant surprise. “What do you know?”

“Amazing,” Lia said with a snort. “A man has actually found the clitoris.”

The warriors continued their climb upward. At the top, they marched through the tall grasses of Gaya’s pubic hair, then reached her belly.

They all looked up to the sky. Instead of air all around and above them, though, it was all water. Gaya’s body, the ground they were walking on, was like the bottom of the sea. The ‘sky’ was actually the surface of an ocean that went on forever in all the other directions.

“We’re breathing water,” Lia said. “We’re like fish.”

They realized that Gaya must have been floating in all of this water, for they saw the naked bodies of other giant men and women floating in this dark ocean, like planets in this, so to speak, underwater solar system.

They looked up high and saw two thin, long slits in the upper water. Inside these slits were light from a…room?…and what looked like parts of the faces of a man and woman looking down on Gaya. The man’s face looked a little like Tesel’s, the woman’s, a little like Lia’s.

“A god and a goddess, looking down at us!” Lia said.

“They look like giant versions of the two of us, Lia!” Tesel said.

“What are they saying?” she asked. “Let’s listen.”

Doctor, Doctor, come here! I think Gaya is coming out of her coma! What do you think?

Tesel and Lia now saw another man’s face through those slits. The earplugs of what seemed to be a stethoscope were in his ears.

Let me check her heartbeat. Yes, her eyes are opening slightly. This is a good sign, but we’ll have to wait and see. We don’t want to get our hopes up too high. We mustn’t rush things.

“Are the gods saying that our planet is healing?” Lia asked.

“It seems that way,” Tesel said. “I hope so. Let’s roam around Gaya’s body and see if she’s getting better.”

The surviving warriors continued walking up Gaya’s belly toward the rolling hills of her breasts. Her skin was generally pale, but it seemed to be getting its colour back. Similarly, though she seemed quite emaciated when they’d just emerged from her vaginal orifice, she seemed to be getting more and more flesh back on her body, returning to her original shapely figure.

They marched between the breasts and saw her head, the chin up front. They went over there and got a closer look at her face. Her eyes were almost completely shut, her hair was spread out like the branches of trees, and her skin was getting its colour back.

Her eyes opened a bit more, ever so slightly.

Some more light shone down from above. Tesel, Lia, and the others all looked up at those slits, which were both a little wider now. The fighters could see those three giants looking down on them with hopeful, teary eyes and broad, loving smiles.

“The gods seem happy to see our planet regaining her health,” Lia said, with tears of her own in her eyes.

“Yes,” Tesel said, smiling. “I think she’s going to be all right.”

THE END

Mouths

When those fiery lips open wide,
and the fierce fangs are bared,
a lot of scalding
air comes out,
and a wiggly, wicked tongue
says a flurry of biting words
that make the lower lip quiver,

Making another mouth open.
It, too, says cutting words
that leave
big holes
that lick you in a fight,
leaving you bitten all over
with a swollen, bloody fat lip.

So, maybe those lips should just stay closed,
those teeth of yours should be kept covered,
no hole exposed to make more gaping holes,
a mouth that is just for eating and tasting,
and no rude talking with your mouth full.
There’s biting so you aren’t getting bitten,
and there are lips that kiss and aren’t lippy.

‘Gaya,’ a Surreal Adventure–Chapter Twelve

Before Tesel was ready to lead his warriors into battle, he wanted to survey the entire fighting masses of Aisa’s men. Sure enough, as was predicted from the killing of Kappitta, it was as though the whole army of the enemy had lost its brain, or at least their control of their brains.

That giant worm had been their collective brain, and it was gone; so Aisa’s men were just haphazardly slashing their swords in the air, sometimes cutting–and even killing, occasionally–each other, and sometimes cutting into the tunnel walls, hurting an already terribly ailing Gaya. Tesel knew he had to act fast to stop the wounding of their beloved planet. But as directionless as Aisa’s army were, there was still one big problem for Tesel and his army.

There were still so many more of the enemy to fight.

Gujon was trying his best to conjure up images of dancing nude women to entice and distract Tesel’s men from the soon-to-be fight, but the magician was as unable to focus and give direction to his arts as the rest of the enemy were. As a result, the dancing nude ‘women’ were actually monstrosities with legs for arms and vice versa, heads for breasts and vice versa, and many other comically misplaced or incomplete body parts.

Tesel’s army laughed at the absurd spectacle.

“There’s no need for me to tell you all that this is just one of Gujon’s illusions, is there, men?” Tesel shouted.

“NO!!!” his men shouted back with more laughter.

“Still,” he said, “there are so many more of them than there are of us. I see what must be at least twenty men for each of ours. They fight aimlessly and wildly, but still tirelessly, and they’re amazingly quick. Many of us will still die.”

“If not all of us dying,” Fil muttered.

“Let’s just hope their slashing continues to kill enough of them so we can win,” Lia said.

“She’s right to hope for that, Fil,” Tesel said. “As hard as this will be, we have to keep trying. Gaya needs us, remember.”

Fil sneaked another swig of his drink. “Very well, then,” he said, then sighed. “Let’s do this.”

“Men!” Tesel shouted. “ATTACK!!!”

His army ran at Aisa’s, screaming with their swords held high.

The problem with the wild, chaotic flailing of the swords of Aisa’s men was that their movements were unpredictable for Tesel’s army. A lot of his fighters were surprised to receive slashes and stabbings from blades that seemed to fly from out of nowhere, because those swords were moving at what seemed lightning speed.

So while a lot of Aisa’s men fell quickly from the thrusts of the swords of Tesel’s fighters (as well as those of Aisa’s own aimless men), a lot of Tesel’s men fell early on in the fighting, too.

Fil ran over to where Gujon, also slicing his sword wildly in the air, was. He watched Gujon’s swiftly whipping blade like a hawk, looking for an opening to stab into. He found one, and thrust his sword in the magician’s left side, just under his rib cage. Gujon fell, and all those bizarre-looking, anatomically incorrect nude dancing women vanished.

“Good,” Fil said. “Now we don’t have their comical spectacle to distract us.”

He looked around for another high-ranking enemy to fight. Amid the sea of blood and clashing swords, he found Lew, Aisa’s second-in-command. Hungry for his enemy’s blood, Fil grinned and raised his sword.

“Lew!” he shouted at him. “It’s me, Fil! Follow my voice and fight me, you bastard!”

Lew rushed with a warrior’s yell in Fil’s direction. Fil watched his wildly swinging sword, careful to find the right time to parry it.

Lew came slashing down from high over his head, and Fil blocked his sword with a piercing metallic clang. Their swords were locked in that position, both of them using all of their strength trying to push in and overpower the other while staring hatefully in each other’s eyes.

Lia was close by, fighting Titos, another of Aisa’s top men, his battle strategist. Her eyes were locked on his sword, which flew about so quickly and wildly that it seemed almost invisible to her.

At one point, she saw a way in, swung her sword in a wide arc from right to left, and sliced through his throat just when he was about to hack off her left arm. Instead, he only cut a mark in it just below her shoulder, then he dropped his sword and clutched at his bloody throat with his other hand before falling.

Ignoring her pain, she turned to her left to see how Fil was doing, but she was too late: she heard him grunt in pain and cough out blood, with Lew’s sword stabbed all the way through his gut and out of his lower back. Her comrade fell to the ground, his last movement.

“No!!!” she screamed, and as Lew was pulling his sword out of Fil’s bloodied guts, she swung her sword down and sliced off Lew’s head. She looked with satisfaction as his head rolled along the floor to the bottom of Gaya’s rectal wall. “Goodbye, old friend,” she said with a choking voice as she looked at Fil’s lifeless body.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw another of Aisa’s men yelling and charging at her with his sword slashing maniacally in the air. Noting that his sword wasn’t about to come down just yet, she pushed out her sword so that when he’d come close enough, it would just run him straight through.

It did; he fell.

As Tesel was slashing and killing many of the enemy, his quickly darting eyes were also trying to survey the area to know how the progress of the battle was going. He noted that, while many of his own fighters had surely died, many more of Aisa’s men had fallen not only at the hands of those of Tesel, but also from their own aimless, thoughtless sword-swinging.

With fewer and fewer of the enemy to fight, he was able to spot Aisa himself among the bodies of the dead as well as those still fighting.

“Aisa!” he shouted. “It’s Tesel! Follow my voice, come and fight me, or be a coward!”

Aisa’s ears pricked at the calling of his name, found the location of the voice, in spite of his lunatic disorientation from the death of Kappitta, and charged in the direction of the voice, screaming so loudly as he ran there as to make Tesel’s shouting seem like mere whispers.

“Tesel!” Aisa screamed.

When he arrived, Aisa swung his sword in a wide, horizontal arc in an attempt to behead Tesel, who ducked just in time to avoid that. As Aisa was running past, Tesel lunged, trying to stab Aisa in the gut, but his foe also dodged him in time.

Tesel watched Aisa standing by, twirling his sword over and around his head like a madman, his wild eyes never making contact with Tesel’s, but Aisa then slowly began walking toward him as if he had an intuitive sense of where his enemy was. Tesel never took his eyes off of Aisa’s swinging sword, it moving almost too fast for the eyes to follow, though Tesel managed to follow it through perfect concentration.

The two adversaries took slow, careful steps toward each other. Tesel kept watching that twirling sword, looking for an opening that just wouldn’t appear.

“You’re a dead man, Tesel,” Aisa grunted. “I might not be able to see you directly or thrust or slash with precise aim, but I can swing my sword around so fast, and so tirelessly, that not only will you never get your sword past mine, but I’m also sure to cut you down sooner or later.”

“You always were too proud for your own good, Aisa,” Tesel said, then their swords started clashing with strikes coming again and again so fast that it sounded like a metallic rattling.

Their swords locked at one point, and as they held them there, trying to push ahead and overpower each other, Aisa’s wild eyes finally made contact with Tesel’s. The men exchanged malicious looks, staring each other down as they tried to push each other’s sword away.

“You’re going…to die, Tesel,” Aisa growled. “Enjoy your last…few moments…of life.”

Tesel grinned defiantly at those words.

They released swords and resumed their quick slashing. Aisa swiped a long red line on Tesel’s right arm. He let out a light groan of pain, then ignored the hurt and the blood.

Their swords repeatedly clashed again, with that quick rattle. Tesel swung over Aisa’s ducking head. Aisa slashed a shallow cut in Tesel’s left side. Again, he ignored the blood and the pain.

As for the rest of the fighters, all of Aisa’s men had finally fallen, some killed by Tesel’s men, others having accidentally killed each other as before. Lia and the surviving men now stood in a circle watching Tesel’s and Aisa’s duel.

Aisa swiped his sword in a wide, horizontal arc, and Tesel jumped back, but not far enough. He got a slash across his chest; fortunately, it wasn’t so deep that it would kill him, but the pain caused him to scream out loud. He fell back for a second.

“He’s dead at last!” Aisa shouted with a grin. “Now, to finish off the rest of them!”

He saw the circle of Tesel’s surviving army, then saw Lia. He ran at her with his sword flailing in all directions.

“Time for you to die, bitch!” he shouted.

She raised her sword to get ready, but didn’t need to. Tesel came at Aisa from behind and ran his sword through Aisa’s guts.

He shook for several seconds and looked down in shock at the tip of Tesel’s sword pushing out of his bloody belly. Then he looked back at his killer.

“I told you: you’re too proud for your own good, Aisa,” Tesel said, then Aisa fell to the ground.

The survivors were too exhausted to shout a hurrah of victory. They just heaved sighs of relief that it was finally all over and dropped to the ground, in desperate need of rest and bandaged wounds.

Analysis of ‘Brain Salad Surgery’

I: Introduction and Cover

Brain Salad Surgery is ELP‘s fourth studio album, released in late 1973, after the prog rock supergroup‘s eponymous debut, Tarkus, the live album Pictures at an Exhibition, and Trilogy. It was produced by singer/bassist/guitarist Greg Lake, as were all of the trio’s previous albums.

Though it initially got a mixed critical response, Brain Salad Surgery‘s reputation has improved over time. It had always been a commercial success, reaching #2 in the UK and #11 in the US; it eventually went gold in both countries.

Here is a link to the full album, and here‘s a link to all of the lyrics.

HR Giger‘s superb album cover gives a vivid visual representation of the album’s central theme of duality–male vs female, man vs machine, and good vs evil. The male/female duality is represented by the woman’s face in the circle in the middle of the cover; under her chin is the end of a phallus pointing up along her neck, the rest of the phallus being represented, outside the metal circle, by a short cylinder and a circle with ELP representing the balls. The record company insisted on removing the phallus for obvious reasons, so on early releases of the album, one instead saw it airbrushed away and replaced with a…shaft…of glowing light.

The album’s title–derived from the lyrics to Dr. John‘s “Right Place, Wrong Time” (released earlier the same year), and replacing ELP’s working title, Whip Some Skull on Ya–is a reference to fellatio, hence the phallus just under the woman’s face…and the skull at the top.

The cover originally opened up, like two front doors to a building, to reveal the whole head of the woman with her eyes closed, as opposed to seeing the skull’s eyeholes over her when the cover is closed, indicating the dualities of life and death, good and evil, and man and machine.

II: Jerusalem

Side One begins with two tracks that are adaptations of other composers’ works, something the band had done several times before, as with pieces like “The Barbarian” (based on Bartók‘s Allegro barbaro for solo piano), “Hoedown,” by Aaron Copland, and the aforementioned piano suite by Mussorgsky. As for track one of Brain Salad Surgery, ELP did an arrangement of a hymn by Hubert Parry, who set William Blake‘s poem, “And did those feet in ancient time” (from the epic, Milton), to music.

Jerusalem” was released as a single, but it failed to chart in the UK; actually, the BBC banned this ‘rock’ version for potential “blasphemy” (despite how reverent the band’s arrangement was). Apart from being understood as a religious song, “Jerusalem” is also considered patriotic to England, even proposed as the national anthem.

Now, the long-held modern assumption that Blake’s text is based on an apocryphal story–about Jesus walking on English soil during His lost years–is unlikely to be true, because no such story existed, apparently, before the twentieth century; instead, Blake’s text is based on a story that it was Joseph of Arimathea who allegedly went to England to preach the Gospel there. I find such an interpretation hard to follow, though, since the text explicitly refers to “the holy Lamb of God” and “the Countenance Divine” being in England.

In any case, the notion that the feet of Christ (or those of Joseph of Arimathea, for that matter…whichever) sanctified English soil by treading on it is jingoistic nonsense that actually turns the meaning of Blake’s poem into its opposite. The key to understanding the text is not “England’s green and pleasant land,” but rather “these dark Satanic mills,” referring to the early Industrial Revolution and its destruction of nature and human relationships, or to the Church of England and how it imposed conformity to the social and class systems.

People who see patriotism and conventional Christianity in Blake’s poem are blind to his irony in using Protestant mystical allegory to express his passionate advocacy for radical social and political change. He wasn’t saying that Jesus walked in England, thus making it ‘the greatest country in the world,’ and worthy of global domination. He was asking if Jesus went there, where the “dark Satanic mills” would later be found.

That he meant such a visit seems unlikely, but if the visitor was Joseph of Arimathea, at least he would have done a proselytizing of the primitive Christianity of the first century AD, not that of later centuries, with the corrupt Catholic or Protestant Churches of Blake’s time, those that subjugated other lands and justified their imperialism with their ‘superior, civilized’ religion.

Blake says he “will not cease from Mental Fight” (my emphasis), meaning his moral struggle with the powers-that-be, the industrial capitalists who used religion as Marx would later call “the opium of the people” to maintain social control in the interests of the ruling class. Blake’s bow, arrows, spear, and sword are metaphors for all he would use to bring about revolution and social justice (his metaphor for these being “Jerusalem”) in England; they were never meant to aid in the building of empire, much to the chagrin of the British patriots who want to read his poem in that way. Even Parry grew disgusted with the jingoistic misuse of his hymn.

This ironic surface patriotism and conformist piety as cloaking Blake’s real revolutionary social critique plays well into the theme of duality–good vs evil–on Brain Salad Surgery. Similarly, it’s fitting that keyboardist/composer/arranger Keith Emerson should have done an adaptation of Parry’s musical setting, one with the usual Emersonian pomp embellishments, but still reverent to the piety of Parry’s music. For again, such a musical style, soon to be contrasted sharply with that of the next track on the album, is a part of the good-vs-evil dualism of Brain Salad Surgery.

III: Toccata

The “dark Satanic mills” of the first track seem to be vividly depicted, in musical form, in this next ELP adaptation of a composer’s work, this one being the fourth movement of the first piano concerto of Argentinian modernist composer Alberto Ginastera. The movement is titled toccata concertata, hence the name of ELP’s adaptation.

Unlike the trite harmony of Parry’s work, this one is violently dissonant, something accentuated by Emerson’s use of raspy synthesizer sounds. Indeed, the dissonance of this adaptation makes King Crimson sound like the Bay City Rollers in comparison.

Another valid comparison of ELP with King Crimson, as far as this second track is concerned, is how we hear a push towards the most state-of-the-art technology. Recall how the 1980s King Crimson used guitar synthesizers, the Chapman stick, and Simmons electronic drums. “Toccata” boasts (as does “Jerusalem”) the use of the very first polyphonic synthesizer, the Moog Apollo, and eight specially developed drum synthesizers, used in the track’s middle percussion section, arranged by drummer/percussionist Carl Palmer.

Again, this use of the latest technology of the time, as mixed in with more conventional instruments and singing, reflects the album’s theme of dualism–in this case, the dualism of man vs machine.

I’d like to do a comparison/contrast of Ginastera’s fourth movement with ELP’s adaptation. I won’t cover every detail, as that would be too difficult and tediously long; so I’ll point out and compare/contrast a number of highlights. (Here is a link to the entire piano concerto, with a video of the score; move it ahead to about 18:50 to get to the fourth movement.)

ELP’s adaptation adds a considerable amount of material to Ginastera’s piece (as well as removing much of it), including of course the percussion section in the middle, as I mentioned above. Another addition is at the beginning, with Emerson playing a synthesizer, and Palmer hitting tympani.

Emerson plays a motif of B-flat, E, E-flat, and A, then Palmer hits A, A, A, and C. Then Emerson plays the same notes again, a bit faster, adding a C and an A, and Palmer does a short roll on A. Emerson goes up an octave to play the same first opening four notes, and Palmer does another, longer roll on A. Emerson, still in the higher octave, plays the notes faster, with the added C and A, and Palmer doesn’t another, still longer, crescendo roll on A.

Next, ELP’s adaptation converges with Ginastera, but with the latter’s arrangement of the B-flat, E, E-flat, and A motif played predominantly on horns, with all the notes sustaining in a swelling dissonance, while Emerson plays the notes on his synthesizer, intensifying the tension by adding a raspy, grating tone to it. The motif is played as I described above, then transposed an octave and a semitone higher to give B, F, E, and B-flat.

ELP come in with Emerson on organ, Lake on bass, and Palmer on drums. In Ginastera’s original, we hear pounding dissonances on the piano in 3/4=6/8 time, with the fourth bar in 5/8 time as an exception.

With the piano beginning in octaves of E in the bass, the orchestra is playing a cluster of eighth notes in A, B-flat, and E-flat. The E-flat goes up to a G-flat (with the E in the bass going down to a C-sharp with the G-flats), then back to E-flat, up and down and up and down. These movements up and down occur at irregular times, creating the illusion of odd time signatures, but Ginastera’s score has the whole passage in the same 3/4=6/8 time. The playing sounds fairly subdued in Ginastera’s original, but Emerson’s organ gives the passage a fiery extroversion.

The next passage has piano playing in the bass, whereas ELP’s version has Emerson playing it on synthesizer. A beginning in F and E leads to the opening motif of B-flat, E, E-flat, and A, then ending in another swelling dissonance reminding us of the opening one, but transposed a whole tone higher, giving us C, F, G-flat, and B (reverse the second and third notes to see the exact parallels). In Ginastera’s original, these notes are heard in the orchestra, predominantly the brass; in ELP’s version, Emerson does it on the synth, ending with that rasping sound again.

Next, a tune with a galloping rhythm, starting off with eighth notes going back and forth in F-sharp and A, then going to F-sharp, B, B-flat, C, A, F-sharp, and E, is heard on the strings; Emerson plays it on the organ. These seven eighth notes are heard three times, accented in a way that gives the listener the impression of 7/8 time, but again, Ginastera’s score notates it all as 3/4=6/8 time.

The up-and-down of F-sharp and A continues for a while, then we hear a five-note ostinato of B, A, F-sharp, E, and F-sharp, which grows dissonant with the addition of the horns, and ends with the piano playing a descension in octaves. ELP’s version ends the five-note ostinato, played on the organ, with more dissonant, angular synthesizer.

More of a galloping rhythm is heard in piano chords (on organ in the ELP version); this leads to more galloping, but with switches from 3/4=6/8 time to a bar of 5/8–this happens twice, then it returns to the regular 3/4=6/8 time. Again, what is piano in Ginastera is organ in ELP. Also, Ginastera’s version develops this switching of the time from six to five, while ELP’s version brings the tension to a climax with organ chords featuring a tritone of E and B-flat. Palmer also plays this tritone on the tympani.

Later on in Ginastera’s score, we hear a variation on the passage mentioned earlier, the cluster of repeated eighth notes, the top of which is the E-flat that goes up to the G-flat, then down, and up and down at irregular times. This time, however, the notes are a second-inversion A-minor triad with A-flat and C-flat in the bass. The top C-natural will go up to an E-flat, and down and up and down, in the same irregular pattern as with the E-flat and G-flat before. We hear the orchestra, predominantly strings, doing this; ELP’s version has the organ doing it.

After this, the piano does more galloping rhythms, with a few dissonant seconds thrown in here and there. Later, the piano does more developments of that passage with the time changes back and forth between six and five as discussed above, with an additional bar of 7/8 sandwiched in the middle. This passage isn’t in ELP’s version, which skips ahead in Ginastera’s score to bar 200.

Here, the galloping rhythm is done on pizzicato strings, starting with E-flat and G-flat going up and down in the bass clef. Then we hear E-flat, G-flat, A-flat, and A-natural three times before transposing the first two notes to A-natural and C. Emerson plays this line on the organ, but develops it further before going to the next passage.

A French horn plays A, D, G, and G-sharp, then A, E-flat, D, D-flat, G, and G-sharp, etc. Emerson plays this line on a synthesizer an octave higher. After this phrase, Ginastera has us hear five pairings of eighth notes of a minor second (C-sharp and D), with groupings of two to three eighth rests in between the first, second, third, and fourth pairings of those notes. They’re played softly in his score, but Emerson plays this rhythm as stabbing, loud organ dissonances.

A trumpet plays F, B, B-flat, and E three times; this leads to a climactic, dissonant passage. ELP’s version builds up this tension much more, right from the beginning of this passage, on the synthesizer. Ginastera does glissandi down and up on the piano; Emerson does a downward glissando on the organ.

At bar 240, the piano plays octaves in C, F-sharp, F-natural, and B, a restatement of the opening motif, but transposed up a whole tone; Emerson plays this on the synthesizer, using it to embellish the dissonance further and bringing this tensely climactic moment to raspy near-chaos, leading to Palmer’s percussion section. Ginastera’s original, however, further develops these themes on the piano, coming soon to the end of the movement.

Palmer pounds away on the tympani for a while, striking a gong here and there. This comes to an end, then we hear the soft hitting of A and C on the tympani, and on both tympani and tubular bells. Emerson plays three soft, dense chords on the piano as this passage comes to the end.

Next comes a passage with Lake playing electric guitar, with Palmer in the background hitting the tympani. Lake is playing, among other things, variations on that opening motif of sharpened tonic, fifth, flattened fifth, and tonic an octave higher.

The climax of the percussion section is Palmer showing off with a solo on his drum kit that features the drum synthesizer, and all the flashy, extraverted electronic sounds it can make.

After this, ELP ends their adaptation with a reprise of the section starting with A, D, G, G-sharp, etc. (i.e., the French horn line in Ginastera’s original). Again, Emerson intensifies the dissonant tension with that raspy synthesizer in ways totally different from the dissonant tension ending Ginastera’s original.

Both pieces end more or less the same way, with twelve sets of eighth notes of a dissonant chord played molto sforzatissimo, by the orchestra in the original, and on the organ in ELP’s version. The band played their recording of the adaptation for Ginastera in order to get his permission to publish it. The composer gladly gave it, describing ELP’s adaptation as “Diabolic!” and “Terrible!” These words were meant as compliments, though, for he felt that ELP had captured the mood of his music as no one else ever had.

That this music is “diabolic” makes it a perfectly dualistic contrast to the ‘piety’ of “Jerusalem.” Hence, we can see these two adaptations as thematically fitting within the context of Brain Salad Surgery as a whole. An outward appearance of trite piety masks the evil inside.

(Incidentally, a piece I composed years ago, my Divertimento for Strings, has a third movement, presto furioso, that is inspired by ELP’s adaptation of Ginastera’s toccata concertata, though I must insist that I used all my own notes and themes, not theirs. If you’re interested, please check it out.)

IV: Still…You Turn Me On

Lake was always sure to include an acoustic guitar ballad on every ELP album, and Brain Salad Surgery is no exception. Earlier, and in my opinion, far better examples of such ballads are “Lucky Man” and “From the Beginning.”

A curious thing about Brain Salad Surgery is how the musical style jumps all over the place. Normally, one tries to find a reasonably consistent style from track to track, but on this album, ELP seemed to be deliberately going as far in the opposite direction as possible. The album has a hymn, a violently modernist piece, a syrupy love ballad, a honky tonk piano farce, and a sci-fi epic–part standard prog, part jazz/piano sonata.

As far as I’m concerned, the only way to see unity in such musical and lyrical disunity is to hear it in terms of dialectical dualism, of finding a paradoxical unity in opposites. So, in these opening three tracks, we have the sentimentality (thesis) of Lake’s ballad, the brutal ugliness (negation) of the Ginastera adaptation, and the ironic piety masking evil (sublation) of the Parry/Blake adaptation. That Lake’s ballad is a love song also gives us the duality of male and female, some romanticized brain salad surgery? After all, he is turned on.

The instrumentation of the ballad reflects the man-vs-machine duality, in that on the one hand, we hear the human voice, Lake’s acoustic guitar, and Emerson’s harpsichord, but on the other hand, there’s Emerson’s synthesizer and Lake’s electric guitar leads played through a wah-wah pedal.

V: Benny the Bouncer

This song has lyrics written by Lake and Pete Sinfield, a colleague of Lake’s back when both of them were members of the original King Crimson back in 1969 and 1970. Lake would return the favour by helping Sinfield release his solo album, Still, on ELP’s new Manticore record label, as well as contributing vocals and electric guitar on it. Sinfield would also contribute lyrics to Side Two of Brain Salad Surgery, as we’ll soon see.

“Benny the Bouncer” manifests the album’s theme of duality in two ways: first, the use of synthesizer at the beginning, and the use of vocals and honky-tonk-style piano suggests the man-vs-machine motif; second, the light-hearted nature of the music, as juxtaposed with a story about a fight and a violent murder, gives us the duality of good vs evil, or light vs dark.

Benny is already understood to be a bloody, violent sort: “He’d slash your granny’s face up given half the chance,” as Lake sings in his affected Cockney. “Savage Sid,” however, is much meaner. First, he spills his beer on Benny’s boots to test him, then when the two fight, Sid sticks Benny with a switchblade, and Benny ends up with “an ‘atchet, buried in [his] head.” He’s dead now, and “he works for Jesus as the bouncer of St. Peter’s gate.”

All of this fighting, of course, is a reflection of the alienation found in an oppressive, dystopian society, the subject of the epic coming next, “Karn Evil 9,” the real thematic focus of Brain Salad Surgery.

VI: Karn Evil 9, 1st Impression

“Karn Evil” is a pun on carnival; this title for the sci-fi epic was suggested by Sinfield–due to the festive, carnival-like nature of the music heard in the “See the show!” sections of this movement, or “impression”–as a replacement for the originally intended title, “Ganton 9,” a fictional planet on which all evil and decadence has been put.

“Karn Evil” also reflects duality in the sense that the ‘carnival’ show of decadent displays is a pleasing, entertaining diversion (the ‘good’) from the evil and oppression really going on in this dystopian world. Indeed, this epic has real relevance in our world today, in the 2020s, in which such breads and circuses as the Super Bowl, Taylor Swift, OnlyFans, and photos of string-bikini-clad beauties plastered all over our Facebook feeds distract us from such problems as extreme income inequality, escalating wars, a media controlled by the super-rich, and the ongoing genocide in Gaza.

As for “9,” apart from “Ganton 9,” the meaning of this number could be seen in a subdivision into three of each of the three “impressions.” We all know, of course, about the division of the 1st Impression into two parts, because its length had to be spread over two sides of the original LP. One could, however, divide this impression further–namely, at the break between Lake’s singing of “Fight tomorrow!” and “Step inside, hello!”, or, between the frankly dystopian opening lyrics and the ‘carnival’ section about the “most amazing show.” Hence, three parts for the 1st Impression.

As for the 2nd Impression, it can easily be subdivided into three by virtue of its fast-slow-fast sections, like a short, three-movement piano sonata. The 3rd Impression can be divided in terms of the storyline as given by the lyrics: before the war, from the beginning to “Let the maps of war be drawn”; the middle, five-minute instrumental section and keyboard solo, as dramatizing the war; and the outcome of the war, from “Rejoice! Glory is ours!” to the end.

Anyway, part one of the 1st Impression begins with Emerson doing some contrapuntal playing on the organ. As Lake is singing the first verse, Emerson is playing dark, eerie bass notes on the piano while Palmer is hitting a cowbell.

This first verse establishes the dystopian world of the story, a dystopia disturbingly similar to our own world of the 2020s, “about an ago of power where no one had an hour to spare.” Those who have the power, the capitalist class, ensure that none of us, the working class, have much of any free time, because we’re all overworked and underpaid.

“The seeds have withered” because of environmental damage caused by prioritizing profit over the health of the planet. “Silent children shivered in the cold” because ‘free market’ capitalism has failed to provide for the needs of the poor, rendering so many of them homeless and unheard (“children” here isn’t necessarily to be taken literally; they can be also children in the metaphorical sense of being vulnerable and helpless).

The common people suffer like this because of “the jackals for gold,” or the greedy capitalists. “I’ll be there” to help when the revolution finally comes.

The working class have all been betrayed and silenced by the advocates of neoliberal, ‘free market’ capitalism (whose prophets, including the likes of Milton Friedman, were already making their promises of plenty in a world of ‘small government’ as of 1973, the year Brain Salad Surgery came out, thereby making “Karn Evil 9” prophetic, as I see it). The riot police of the ‘small government’ have “hurt…and beat” the people who try to protest the injustices they’ve been subjected to.

Everyone, working several jobs just to have enough to pay his or her bills, food, and rent, is “praying for survival,” but “there is no compassion” for those who cannot leave this miserable world–these are the homeless, whom it’s against the law to feed, and who suffer anti-homeless architecture and benches.

He, in whose voice Lake is singing, begs for a leader who will rise up and save the world from oppression, who will “help the helpless and the refugee”–that is, the impoverished and those displaced by war in ravaged places like Libya and Syria, or by genocide in Gaza. Again, he says he’ll “be there…to heal their sorrow.”

Next, we have the instrumental break that, in my opinion as described above, divides part one from the real part two of the 1st Impression (the “part two” of this impression beginning on Side Two of the LP being, in my opinion, ‘part three’ in actuality). We hear a tight riff in alternating 6/8 and 4/4, led by a synth melody; this tune will be heard again on Side Two in part two (or ‘part three,’ as I’d have it), but it will all be in 4/4.

This instrumental continues, with more time changes and synthesizer soloing, until it segues into the ‘carnival’ themes and ‘part two,’ as I conceive of it. Now that the dystopian world has been established, we will learn of how the powers-that-be are distracting the people from their oppression with “a most amazing show.” We can relate to this aspect of the story today, with all of the entertaining nonsense we see on TV and social media, distracting us from the horrors of the real world out there.

Those in power have always used two ways of keeping the masses under their control: the carrot and the stick, two seemingly opposed tactics, but actually just opposite sides of the same coin, since they both serve the same political purpose. The world government of Huxley‘s Brave New World uses the carrot of pleasure (sex, drugs, etc.) for social control, whereas the totalitarian government of Orwell‘s Nineteen Eighty-four uses the stick of coercion and bullying for the same purpose.

“Karn Evil 9” opens with an exposition of the dystopian stick, and with the “most amazing show,” we have the carrot. In our world, TV and social media are our carrot, meant to distract us from the stick of riot police and standing armies that imperialistically oppress the world. In cyclically abusive relationships, the carrot and stick represent traumatic bonding.

Those who “come inside” to “see the show” are the industrial working class, for they are told to “leave [their] hammers at the box” before going in. Among the images to see are violent, shocking ones, meant in this way to be entertaining and “spectacular”: namely, “rows of bishops’ heads in jars,” and a terrorist’s car bomb. The same goes for the “tears for you to see.”

There are entertaining horrors, but also entertaining pleasures, like the stripper. Of course, for many, the opium of the people is the most entertaining spectacle of all, hence they “pull Jesus from a hat.”

After all of this, there’s an instrumental section leading to the end of Side One of the LP. Being one of the pre-eminent progressive rock bands of the 1970s, ELP were always known for showing off their virtuosity as musicians, even to the point of annoying music critics, who accused them of egotism run rampant. For ELP to show off in this way, however, for the sake of putting on “a most amazing show,” is perfectly appropriate. In fact, Lake does some extended lead guitar soloing here, something he did only sparingly on previous ELP albums.

Side One ends with a fading-out of Emerson playing a repeated synth note in A-flat, accompanied by Palmer shaking a tambourine. This same music fades in to begin Side Two. There are CD versions of this music played without the fading out and in, giving an uninterrupted 1st Impression, but the long instrumental passage leading up to the famous “Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends,” still gives us the feeling that this is a distinct part two…or ‘part three,’ as I’d have it.

Note the ecological destruction alluded to in the line, “There behind the glass stands a real blade of glass.” While Lake is singing this line, Emerson comes in with the organ, playing that cheerful, ‘carnival’ music. In this we hear the stark contrast of the happy music masking the evil reality depicted in the lyrics of having wiped out almost all the plant life on the planet…and this horror is presented as a form of entertainment, or a museum piece.

In today’s world, the debate surrounding climate change could be seen as a form of entertainment, in that it may amuse many of us to watch and hear the heated, angry arguing over the controversy as to whether global warming is real or a myth. We go from “England’s green and pleasant land” to “a real blade of grass” over the space of one side of an LP.

So we can see how the theme of the good-vs-evil duality manifests itself as a mask in “Jerusalem” and “Karn Evil 9.” The piety and patriotism of the first track masks the “dark Satanic mills,” as discussed above, and the enjoyment of “the show,” the Karn of the carnival, its carnality, masks the Evil.

That the show is “guaranteed to blow your head apart,” in the context I just described, can thus have a dual meaning: good in that the show will impress and amaze us, and bad in that its mesmerizing effect will take away our ability to think independently. That we’ll “get [our] money’s worth” sounds like a capitalist hard-sell, and that “it’s rock and roll” suggests the decadence of capitalism (i.e., rock stars making huge profits while posturing as edgy, anti-establishment social rebels).

The decadence of rock is then aptly demonstrated by more instrumental showing-off, in this way by an organ solo by Emerson. This has to be one of the greatest organ solos in the history of art rock, ranking right up there with Rick Wakeman‘s organ solo on Yes‘s “Roundabout.” These solos almost compel fans to play ‘air organ,’ they’re so good.

Emerson’s organ playing here, as is the case with his piano playing in the 2nd Impression, is so good that it makes all the more tragic his suicide in 2016, from a gunshot wound to the head. Nerve damage in his right hand, starting in 1993, was hampering his playing; it had abated by 2002, but in 2016 he was struggling with focal dystonia, something he did not dare discuss publicly for obvious, professional reasons. Drinking and depression exacerbated the problem, and anxiety over performing badly, disappointing fans, pushed him over the edge, especially when internet trolls made mean comments about his playing. Lake died later the same year.

Speaking of Lake, after Emerson’s organ solo, he replays most of the written part of his guitar solo from Side One, followed by some extrovert drumming by Palmer and more verses. More references to decadence are made, these times of a sexual sort, when Lake sings of a “gypsy queen in a glaze of vaseline,” reminding us of the stripper from Side One; then there’s “a sight to make you drool–seven virgins and a mule.”

“The show” of the 1st Impression ends fittingly with more bombast, pomp, and instrumental showing off, particularly by Emerson playing fast notes on the synth, and by Palmer not only on the drums but also on the tympani.

VII: Karn Evil 9, 2nd Impression

This delightful instrumental has to be the creative zenith of the entire album, with “Toccata” and the 1st Impression just under it. Here, Emerson is held back by neither the need to play someone else’s notes, nor by a need to conform to listeners’ expectations, whether in the mainstream pop world, nor in that of what had by 1973 already become prog rock clichés. Here, we have pure Emerson as composer and artist, unfettered by anything.

Here‘s a link to the piece, with a transcribed score for piano and bass.

The piece begins with a long, twisting and turning piano riff, jazzy in style and yet, in the context of being sonata-like in structure, the ‘exposition,’ as it were. Palmer plays some fast, tricky drum licks before Emerson comes in as described, backed by Palmer and Lake on the bass. The music is modulating all over the place, and while most of it’s in 4/4, towards the end there’s a shift to a bar of 2/4, then two bars in 5/16, and a bar of 7/16 before returning to 4/4.

That long and winding piano riff is repeated, then there are two bars in 3/4, one in 12/16, one in 3/8, and one in 7/8 before going back to 4/4. After a while, we hear octaves on the right hand of the piano, eighth notes and sixteenth notes in C-sharp, then three sixteenth notes in E, then an eighth note in B, while on the left hand (doubled by Lake on the bass), instead of the E and B, it’s D and G respectively.

This set of notes is heard twice, leading into a section with a Latin American rhythm. Over this rhythm, Emerson plays a synthesizer solo that imitates the timbre of a steelpan. Palmer is shaking maracas and tapping claves in the background.

After this, a complicated riff is heard in alternating bars of 4/4 and 7/8 time, in the latter of which we hear high octaves in C-sharp on the right hand of the piano, thirds going up and down in C-sharp/E-sharp and D/F-sharp on the left hand, and C-sharp and D-natural on the bass. Next, a bar in 7/16, one in 9/16, and a 4/4 piano riff of high octaves in G-sharp, then C-sharp on the right hand of the piano, with the left hand playing second-inversion triads of E-natural/A-natural/C-natural to the right-hand G-sharp octaves, and left hand second-inversion triads of G-sharp/D-natural/F-natural to the right-hand C-sharp octaves.

The dissonance of these last few chords is the most tension we hear in this beginning fast section of the 2nd Impression, leading into the eerie tension of the slow middle section. Prior to this tense moment, the music has been largely upbeat and even merry. This contrast between cheerful and dark is once again a reflection of the good-vs-evil duality of “Karn Evil 9,” and of Brain Salad Surgery as a whole. Surface pleasures mask inner evils, as noted on previous tracks. The beginning fast section ends on a chord of C-sharp major.

While the beginning and ending fast sections are light and jazzy, the slow middle section is essentially like twentieth-century classical music in its use of eerie, atmospheric, dense chords, which are a kind of theme-and-variations form based on a harmonic progression in E minor, A minor, and C minor, as expanded tonality. As I said above, this softer music represents the hidden plotting and scheming behind the extrovert fun and games of the faster parts.

In this middle section, we hear Emerson’s expressive use of softer piano dynamics. Before, we heard his dabbling in jazz; now, we hear his mastery of classical technique.

Eerie, ambient, dense chords of G-sharp/D/E/A-sharp and F-natural/D/G-sharp/E are heard on the piano, and Lake follows with a line of A-sharp, G-sharp, F-natural, and E on the bass. These are heard twice, then Emerson plays intervals of G-sharp/E and F-natural/D, which Lake follows with a line of D, E, F-natural, G-natural, and A. This has all been in 6/4.

The time switches to 4/4, and Palmer is playing woodblocks behind the piano and bass, which have been playing harmonic variations of the chords and intervals I described above. At one point during this passage, Lake plays a descending chromatic line from E to A. Now in A minor, Emerson’s playing will include ascending and descending octaves in A, B, C-natural, and C-sharp, then C-natural, B, B-flat, and A; the first three of both sets of notes are triplets, and the second set of triplets are backed with a triplet roll on a kettledrum by Palmer, who’s still playing those woodblocks, like a ticking clock…ninety seconds to midnight (<<<more on this later).

The fast third section comes in next; it starts in 3/8 time, with Emerson playing a lot of fast triplets in the right hand. Then a bar of 4/8, back to 3/8 for four bars, a bar in 9/8, four more bars of 3/8, then 4/4, 4/8, 7/8, and a few more time changes until an improvisatory passage in 4/4.

In the middle of this passage, there’s a brief reprise of those dissonant chords heard just before the end of the fast first section, though notated in the transcription (YouTube link above, at about 6:16) with the enharmonic notes of D-flat octaves in the right hand, and a second-inversion triad of A-flat/D-natural/F in the left hand.

Finally, the 2nd Impression ends with a recapitulation, if you will, of the twice-played ‘exposition’ of the beginning of the fast first section, that twisting and turning theme. It ends with octaves in both hands of F-sharp on the piano, which Lake doubles on the bass.

VIII: Karn Evil 9, 3rd Impression

The music we hear Lake singing to sounds very patriotic, with a harmonic progression that sounds, to be perfectly frank, rather trite with, for example, its ending in a suspension fourth resolving to the leading tone, being the third of the dominant chord in the cadence, then back to the tonic in a major key.

How such music ties in with the story, it seems to me, is that a gung-ho, nationalistic attitude is being appealed to as a solution to the dystopian class conflict as established in the 1st Impression–trite harmony thus corresponds to patriotism as a naïve attitude in politics. Furthermore, historically such a solution has tended to lead to fascism, which in the context of this story can explain its ambiguous ending (more on that later).

Bourgeois liberal democracy gives the pretense of a free society, full of choice and pleasures, hence “the show” of the 1st Impression. But when class conflict gets too strained, as can be felt in the lyrics and music before the displays of the show, and the ruling class feels threatened by a proletarian uprising, they resort to fascism in order to maintain power, typically seducing the masses with talk of nationalism and patriotism, as is felt here in the 3rd Impression.

Once again, we have the duality of good as a mask for evil. The soldiers think they’re fighting for their country, when really they’re just fighting for the capitalist class.

“Man alone, born of stone”, is hard-hearted in his alienation. He thus is “of steel,” he’d “pray and kneel” to political and religious authorities to get an illusory sense of identity, communal inclusion, and meaning in his otherwise empty life. Still, his life is full of pain: “fear…rattles in men’s ears and rears its hideous head.”

Could that “blade of compassion” be the same blade of grass, the one preserved piece of plant life, from the 1st Impression? Whatever it is, it’s been “kissed by countless kings, whose jeweled trumpet words blind [men’s] sight.” Heads of state pretend to care about us, kissing compassion, as it were, and we’re blinded by the “jeweled trumpet words” of their demagoguery and false promises, believing their lies are truth.

We thought our civilization would last forever: “walls that no man thought would fall, the altars of the just, crushed…” Because of these disappointments, war must come, replacing the hope of revolution.

The relevance of the lyrics of the 3rd Impression to our world in the 2020s can be seen in not only the wish to fight the oppressive political system, but also in fascism’s co-opting of the common man to fight wars among nations instead of rising up in revolution against the ruling class, as well as how computers acting in their own right and supplanting humanity sounds like today’s rise of AI, and the fears many of us have about such technology replacing us in the working world and thus leaving us in abject poverty.

Accordingly, we sense hostility between man and machine (which, recall, is one of the main forms of the duality theme in Brain Salad Surgery–remember Giger’s ‘biomechanical’ album cover) in the bridge of the ship when the computer, voiced electronically by Emerson, says, “DANGER!…STRANGER! LOAD YOUR PROGRAM. I AM YOURSELF.” Indeed, our technology, in its quest to be dominant, is a reflection of ourselves.

All of these issues are relevant to our times in that we’ve seen these phenomena: a resurgence of fascist tendencies in many political movements in the world (those of Trump, Ukraine, Jair Bolsonaro, Marine Le Pen, Giorgia Meloni, etc.); such leftist struggles as Occupy Wall Street, opposition to the Gaza genocide, BLM, etc.; and the double-edged sword of AI (in a socialist context, where production is for providing for everybody’s needs, it can liberate us all; but in a capitalist context, it can throw millions of people out of work and thus subject us to homelessness, starvation, and death). Finally, a “nuclear dawn” in our time is the danger of such an armageddon between the US/NATO on one side, and Russia and China on the other.

All of what has come so far in the lyrics is a lead-up to war, culminating with “let the maps of war be drawn.” So the instrumental break, including a keyboard solo, all of it lasting for almost five minutes, represents the war.

There have been three interpretations of the outcome of the war. The first is that man has won, with Lake singing, “Rejoice! Glory is ours! Our young men have not died in vain.” Note the patriotic themes heard not only during the beginning of the middle ‘war’ section, but also during the beginning of this ‘victory.’

Perhaps man has deceived himself, though, in this supposed victory. Is the patriotic music a masking of an insidious evil, that of a surreptitious takeover of the computers? That they have won over man is the second interpretation of the war’s outcome. Such a possibility is suggested when the computer says to the “PRIMITIVE! LIMITED!” humans, “NEGATIVE!…I LET YOU LIVE.” In other words, the superior computers spared the defeated humans’ lives so they could see how inferior they are to their real victors. After all, “the tapes have recorded [the] names” of all the fallen men (suggestive not only of such things as the televising of the carnage of the Vietnam War, but also the deaths of so many in such places as Gaza today, all recorded on cellphones).

The third interpretation of the war’s outcome, as Sinfield–who collaborated with Lake on the lyrics of the 3rd Impression–would have us understand, is that man and the computers won together in a war against a shared enemy, but the computers have since taken control over man. Such an interpretation is the one most consistent with the lyrics, taking account of all of them.

IX: Conclusion

Such an interpretation is also conducive to the relevance of “Karn Evil 9” (and of Brain Salad Surgery as a whole) to our times in the 2020s. Class war was diverted from by fascism, not just in the period between the two world wars, but since both of them, too, in such forms as Operation Paperclip, with ex-Nazis working in the American and West German governments (including in NASA and NATO), in Operation Gladio, and in Western support for Ukrainian Nazi sympathizers all the way from the end of WWII to the present.

The war of the middle section of the 3rd Impression can thus be interpreted as the Cold War, with a preoccupation against “Un-American” activities as represented in the music by the patriotic theme. The perceived human victory would today be seen as the “end of history,” while the subsequent computer takeover can be seen to represent all of the technological advances of the three decades following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, including the online invasions of our privacy, AI threatening to take over many of our jobs, and the prospect of cashless societies making us helpless handlers of our cellphones.

So once again, the duality of good–for example, the convenience of new technologies–masks the evil of the hegemony of those technologies, just as the ‘good’ of patriotism masks the evil of fascism. In the same way, the piety and patriotism of “Jerusalem” mask the “dark Satanic mills,” and the erotic pleasure of ‘brain salad surgery’ and of “the show” masks the pain of “the helpless and the refugee.”

Contradiction and duality are at the heart of everything in life; this is what makes Brain Salad Surgery so thematically universal.

‘Gaya,’ a Surreal Adventure–Chapter Eleven

“Attack!” Tesel shouted.

All the soldiers behind him, Lia, and Fil rushed at the monster, yelling in a mad frenzy with their swords held high. Especially wild in their racing at Kappitta were those men who’d contemplated deserting, so eager were they to redeem themselves and to be purged of their former selfish thoughts and shame.

…and all of these were the first to be sucked, by a powerful inhalation, into the giant worm’s mouth.

As they were sucked in screaming, the others were able to get past the mouth and stand on either side of Kappitta’s long, snaky body. They immediately began stabbing their swords into its sides, spraying its blood all over themselves and making it wail deafeningly in pain.

The men sucked inside weren’t dead just yet: they were frantically jabbing their swords into the beast’s insides, trying to make as many internal stab wounds as possible in, they hoped, its vital organs before its enzymes fried and melted their bodies. The fighters outside were heartened at the sight of those internal sword pokes bulging out, inspiring their own external sword lunges to be all the more furious. They tried their best not to let their lowered spirits affect that vigorous thrusting when they no longer saw those internal sword bulges.

Many of these fighters, however, had their spirits far more than lowered when Kappitta swung its serpentine length to crush them against the tunnel walls.

“Lia! Fil!” Tesel shouted. “Let’s try climbing up on top of its head! We can try stabbing at its eyes and its brain! Come, let’s hurry up there!”

The surviving soldiers stabbed more aggressively into the sides of the giant worm to distract it from Tesel, Lia, and Fil climbing up its head. Once on top, the three of them started stabbing–Lia and Fil reaching for each of its eyes, and Tesel searching for Kappitta’s brain with his sword.

The monster tried bucking the three of them, but with little success: they just bounced on top without falling off, causing mere brief interruptions of their stabbing. Kappitta tried crushing the three against the ceiling of the tunnel, too, but it was too high; no raising of its head could get high enough.

One of the fighters on the sides saw the height of the ceiling and what the three were doing. She got an idea.

“Hey!” she shouted out to those near her. “Let’s do what our leaders did! Let’s climb on top. Kappitta can’t raise its body high enough to crush us against the tunnel’s ceiling! Let’s go! The others should follow!”

She and those who heard her immediately started their climb. The worm swung its body and crushed several fighters against the tunnel wall, but it was the wall opposite that of the side where the other climbers were, so most of them got to the top.

One of them, however, fell off, and when lying on the floor Kappitta rolled on top of her and crushed her. The other climbers were on top of the worm by that time, and they began stabbing it. Its blood was spraying everywhere, and its wails hurt its enemies’ ears.

Again, Kappitta tried to buck those on top of it. Tesel, Lia, and Fil managed to stay on top by keeping their stabbed swords deep inside of its body and hanging on tight to the hilts; most of the others who’d just climbed on stayed where they were, too, but two of them fell off. The worm twisted its body, rolled on the pair, and killed them.

Those fighters still on the ground and stabbing Kappitta in its sides were growing tired, but tried to ignore their waning energy and kept stabbing and slicing…though slower. The worm swung the middle of its body at some of them, crushing them against the tunnel wall. It was losing strength, too, and moving slower.

When that swing of its body came, one of the men closer to its head dodged out of the way, but came up to its mouth. It gave a strong inhalation and sucked him in screaming. He’d dropped his sword, so he couldn’t even stab inside as his body went struggling inside, punching and kicking…until the bulges in its body from his punches and kicks were no more.

Kappitta felt a new surge of energy, thanks to this latest snack, and it bucked those on top again, causing one of those on its back to fall off. It rolled its body and crushed him on the floor, while also smashing some of the men on the side against the wall and killing them, too.

A few men on the sides saw those on the top, and decided to climb up, too; though as they started their climb, the worm swung its body again, crushing them against the wall.

Lia and Fil were still reaching for the eyes, but they were too far out of reach, especially after the bucking and swinging had knocked them further back down the head.

Lia, however, finally managed to crawl forward far enough. She gave a forceful lunge and stabbed Kappitta’s right eye. The monster let out an ear-splitting wail, then bucked hard. She fell off, and landed right in front of that huge mouth.

She jumped to the side just before it inhaled, but she got pulled in by her feet, just enough for it to close its lips around her lower legs. She screamed, then hacked at its lips to free herself. They hugged her legs tightly, hurting them.

Fil stabbed his sword into its other eye, blinding it completely. It wailed again, letting Lia go. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, in spite of her legs’ soreness, and tried to run away from the mouth, but it inhaled again, this time sucking her whole body inside.

…and at just that point, Tesel stabbed his sword all the way into its head, piercing its grapefruit-sized brain and making the animal slump on the floor, lifeless.

They could hear Lia screaming just behind the lips. The stabs of her sword from inside were poking holes through the lips.

The survivors from the sides rushed over to help her. Tesel and Fil got down from the head.

“Hurry up and cut her out!” Tesel shouted. “Before any enzymes flow out and kill her!”

All the men hacked with their swords at the lips, as she continued to do from inside, until she could get out.

…and she came out, trembling all over, soaked in slimy worm saliva.

Some fighters came over with cloths and rags to wipe her dry. As soon as they touched her, though, she started screaming and flailing her sword wildly. A woman fighter then approached her with her arms out, ready to hug her, and she calmed down a bit.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” she said to Lia as she put her arms around her. “Kappitta is dead. You’re safe. It’s all over.” Lia sobbed a bit.

Tesel and Fil looked back at all of the remaining fighters, then at all those crushed on the tunnel walls and floor.

“How many do you think we lost?” Fil asked Tesel.

“At least half of those we had before this fight,” Tesel said, frowning. “Aisa’s army will be directionless in their fighting when we confront them, but they’ll surely have well over twice as many warriors as we have.”

“We’ll have to hope that the wild swinging of their swords will result in them cutting down a large number of their own,” Fil said.

“Perhaps, but that wild, directionless swinging of swords will also cut into much of Gaya’s body, whether intended or not,” Tesel said. “For that reason, we must hurry down there.”

The soldiers marched double time again, passing along the seemingly endless length of Kappitta’s corpse, then through the stomach chamber…so dismayingly empty of food…and into the filthy, reeking tunnels of the intestines, where they could faintly hear the wild clanging of swords, surely those of Aisa’s men.

“Oh, by the gods,” Fil said as he held his nose. “I don’t know which to dread more–Aisa’s men, or this smell!”

As they were approaching the rectal area with even more reluctance (and this reluctance says nothing of the upcoming fight!), they heard voices from the gods above again:

Lila,didyouhearwhathappenedtoAsa?
No,Phil.Whathappened?
Cecilgotintoanastyfightwithhim,andevenstabbedhim!Asa’sdead.
Oh,myGod!HasCecilbeencharged?
No,itwasself-defence.Asahadtheknifefirst.He’soutofthepicture,though,forgood.
Really,Phil?
Yeah,Cecil’stakingoverproductionofourfilms,andweknowhe’lltreatusallmuchbetter.
That’sgoodnews.IfonlywecouldgetsomegoodnewsforGaya.

These words, in a way inexplicable to the troops, who still couldn’t make out the unclear language, gave them some courage…which they were going to need, right at that time.

For in the rectum, Aisa’s chaotically flailing, massive army was right there, ready to fight.

‘Gaya,’ a Surreal Adventure–Chapter Ten

As Tesel and the other warriors went down Gaya’s head and toward her neck, they remained vigilant of any possible sudden emergence of Aisa’s army. Their foe could have been anywhere in Gaya’s body by now, since so much time had gone by from the last time they’d fought them.

Despite Lia’s words that they all had to fight on the way they always did, and how those words brought back Fil’s resolve, a number of the men marching behind still felt discouraged and doubtful of success against Kappitta and Aisa. Some felt that a quick death would have been better than enduring those all too formidable foes.

Now that they were past Gaya’s neck and approaching her chest, most of the troops were careful this time not to go down the tunnels that led to the lungs; three of the men, however, ran down a detour to one of them.

“Wait!” Fil shouted as he saw them suddenly making a dash toward an entry to a lung. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He received no reply. The three men just kept running.

“Stop them!” Fil shouted. “Those cowards are deserting us!”

He and a few other fighters ran down that tunnel after them. The deserters came to the windy opening leading into one of the lung chambers. They all jumped in, screaming as they were being blown down to the floor.

“Stop!” Fil shouted to the fighters behind him. “Don’t get too close to the opening, or you might get sucked in by Gaya’s breaths. Let the deserters go. They’re unworthy of us!

He shouted that last point loud enough so the deserters would hear him. As he and his men walked back down the tunnel to rejoin the others, they heard the screams and grunts of pain of the deserters as they flew up and down the lung chamber, crashing against the ceiling and floor of it again and again until their injuries and broken bones were so many that they died of them.

Fil and his followers reached the others. He pulled out his sword and pointed it at them angrily.

“If any of you wish to desert, as those three cowards did, just come to me, and my sword will make your deaths far slower and more painful than Kappitta or Aisa’s men could ever do!” he shouted.

There was a moment of silence as those others who, like the three just then, had considered deserting, decided with shame in their hearts to carry on with the mission after all. They all resumed their march downwards.

“It’s obvious that we need to visit Gaya’s heart again,” Lia said. “The surge of love for her has faded somewhat.”

“Agreed,” Tesel said, then shouted behind them, “We’ll make another stop at Gaya’s heart, troops, to boost our resolve and love for her!”

They continued on their way to her heart. They knew they were close when those marching in front saw a faint red glow. As they continued toward it, they imagined that the glow would get brighter.

It didn’t.

The pulse was even slower than it had been the last time, too.

They were all standing right in front of the heart now, seeing that glow as every bit as dim as it had looked farther back down the tunnel, and the heartbeat, if anything, was even slower now.

“Oh, no,” Lia said, tears coming to her eyes. “This can’t be. This is too much.”

“If those three deserters could see this now, they’d be so ashamed of themselves for abandoning us,” Fil said, choking back sobs.

“How many times do you all need to be reminded?” Tesel shouted back to the dwindling members of his army. “Gaya is dying. If she dies, we all die. Do you want to die having given up, as those three did, or do you want to die fighting?”

The troops behind, as teary-eyed as Lia, shouted, “Fighting!”

Those who’d considered deserting were now shaking with shame over having even contemplated giving up.

That heart looked so weak, so dim in its light…it was so slow in its pulse, it looked as if it would die any second, right then and there.

“We not only must fight and defeat Kappitta and Aisa, we must do so now!” Tesel shouted. “We can delay no longer. March now, double time!”

They immediately started a long jog down from the heart to the stomach. Their eyes looked everywhere for a possible ambush from Aisa’s men. The tunnels were so shrouded in shadows that the enemy could have easily been ensconced anywhere in them.

As they jogged on, they heard more voices from the heavens above. Urgency demanded, though, that they not stop to listen. They wouldn’t have understood the fast-flying words anyway, but they could still know the feelings given out. This is what they heard:

I’msopissedoffatAsarightnow.Allhecaresaboutisthemoneyhe’slosingfromGaya’snotsuckingdick.
He’sabusinessman,Lila.Whatdoyouexpect?
HecouldatleastappreciateGayaforwhosheis,Phil!Ihopehispornbusinessdoesdie!
Ifhisbusinesdies,we’llallbeoutofwork,Lila.
We’llallbefree!

The troops kept marching, feeling a vague sense of inspiration from what otherwise sounded to them like a vague flurry of words.

They rounded another corner in the tunnel and heard munching sounds farther off.

“Halt!” Tesel shouted. The men did. “Listen!” he whispered.

Those munching sounds were much clearer now.

“Kappitta,” Lia whispered.

“Yes,” Tesel said in a low voice. “This is it. Time to kill the giant worm, or be killed by it.”

Everyone, even the three leaders, was shaking all over, many of them feeling nauseous. Fil took a secret swig from his cup of wine to calm his nerves.

They all knew that they couldn’t stop now, though. They couldn’t turn back.

“Let’s move in as quietly as we can,” Tesel said softly.

They all crept forward until they saw Kappitta.

The worm was now almost twice the size it had been the last time they faced it.

“It’s done a lot of eating since last time, hasn’t it?” Fil asked in a shaky voice.

“While our army is fewer in number this time,” Lia said no less tremulously.

The gargantuan worm was now looking down at them with hungry eyes. Its gaping maw of a mouth seemed to be smiling at all the food before it.