Big Bad Joel

The creepiest, most eerie song I've ever heard is Big Bad John by Jimmy Dean. It's nothing to do with content: stoic drifter arrives in town, gets job as miner, plays supporting characters in the community dinner theater, saves fellow laborers from mine collapse. How many times have we all heard that tired story?

When I was finishing college, I would occasionally find myself at parties, a good distance from my dorm. Usually, I would crash with a friend of mine, Joel Blaha, whose bowl-cut, thrift-store clothes and amazing comedy improv skills made him a solid guy to know. Every morning, as the sun cut through his curtains, my eyes would open to Joel, standing over me, mouthing the words to Big Bad John. In its entirety. The clanking of the pickaxes over the conga drums and low, background humming voices was a sobering way to greet the day. I never stayed for breakfast.