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I'm not a Halloween fan--mostly because I'm a serious scaredy cat. Horror movies give me the heebie jeebies, gore grosses me out, and the only time I went to one of those seasonal faux haunted houses where people dress up like corpses and leap out at you from the shadows, I made my sister walk ahead of me. I was 17; she was 10. Accordingly, I've had my share of some nightmare-inducing music-related moments, of which the five most disturbing are listed below.

1. A well-meaning friend bought me Charles Manson's Lie: The Love and Terror Cult album after she saw me reading Helter Skelter, Vincent Bugliosi's book about the Manson Family murders (which I couldn't finish). The lyrics to Uncle Charlie's folk-based songs aren't in themselves terribly creepy, but the fact that the guy is, you know, a psychopath makes his delivery of a line as simple as, "People say I'm no good" register as deeply unsettling.

2. When I was 16, I was working the door at a club where my guitar teacher was playing with his jazz fusion band. The club had two stages. Playing on the second one was a Norwegian black metal band. All night long, tall Scandinavian ghouls in black leather and greasepaint glowered at me as they passed on the way to their dressing room. At one point, I mustered up the courage to ask one of the Norsemen what his band's name was. In a low croak, he said, "Satyricon." "Like the Fellini film?" I replied. He smacked his fist hard against the wall and shouted, "Satyricon is a band!" I almost peed myself.

3. Even though the poppy "You Shook Me All Night Long" was the only song I knew by AC/DC, I used some of my Bar Mitzvah money to buy Back In Black. I wasn't prepared. The album was louder and rowdier than anything I'd ever heard. It was an embarrassingly long time before I decided to put my Better Than Ezra and Bush tapes in the closet and try AC/DC again.

4. I picked up New York art-punks Suicide's self-titled first album on a recommendation from a cooler friend. The opening five songs were vaguely discomforting stripped-down keyboard droners. No biggie. But the sixth, "Frankie Teardrop," was full of grating drill noises and blood-curdling screams that could put a dungeon full of Jamie Lee Curtises to shame. I still won't listen to it alone.

5. I once wrote an article suggesting that The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper was not an infallible album. The response? Let's just say I'd much rather have to face flesh-eating zombies than aggrieved Beatles fans.

What music makes you stay up at night? Write your answers in the comments section.

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