Horror has played an important part in my life for as long as I can remember. 

Growing up in the late 90’s/early 00’s, spooky culture was at its peak. Goosebumps books covered my shelves, Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Buffy the Vampire Slayer were on constant rotation on YTV, and movies like Scream brought about a resurgence of the horror genre. I, myself, could not get enough, and thought everyone else shared my love for the macabre.

I quickly understood there are two types of people in this world: those who love horror, and those who can’t possibly understand how anyone could love horror. Kids nicknamed me “scary French girl,” as I was the only French kid in my neighbourhood, and because I compulsively told scary stories to anyone who would listen. I really thought everyone was just okay with this, until kids started to tell their parents and I got a “talking-to.” My cousin recently told me I caused her lifelong nightmares. 

This fascination naturally evolved into an obsession with horror films. I consumed anything I could get my hands on and became addicted to the experience. What I like about scary movies is that, no matter how bad they are, they at least make you feel something. Whether it is fear, disgust, or just general disbelief, you rarely walk away unaffected. When it is done well, the genre teeters between reality and absurdity: offering both escapism and terrifyingly relatable themes. 

Horror is also a pretty great way of dealing with trauma.

I’ll try to keep it light, but many folks I know who’ve experienced trauma and anxiety gravitate towards certain aspects of horror. Whether it’s gothic home decorating, listening to metal, practicing witchcraft, or binging spooky shows; there seems to be some comfort in darkness. Darkness that we curate for ourselves. 

When real life resembles a nightmare, surrounding yourself with horror that you choose can feel empowering. Finding safety in movies designed specifically to send you into fight-or-flight mode seems contradictory, but it’s a heightened experience in a controlled environment. You get to say when it starts and stops, and conquer the boogeyman.

This year sucks, but they can’t take spooky season from us! Here is a playlist of 20 of my favourite Halloween anthems for your Zoom parties/full moon rituals/presidential hexes. It features local witches Backxwash and La Fièvre, cute memorable classics, and self-indulgent faves (if you don’t know why Fall Out Boy is on this list, please watch their music video for “A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Touch Me.”)

Take care, and do whatever you’ve gotta do to stay alive in the giant horror movie that is 2020.

Maryze is a bilingual alt-pop artist based in Montreal, originally from Vancouver. Her stormy-sweet world blends haunting, introspective lyrics with contagious electronic beats, offering a refreshing voice with fiery honesty.

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