The Monster Mash

Hey Zoo Freaks, it's your pumpkin-patched Zoo Crew flickering in from the candlelit crypts of THE ZOO, where the fog rolls thick and the fiddles are tuning up for a midnight hoedown. We're unearthing Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers' "Monster Mash" from that spine-tingling self-titled album, and gosh almighty, does it still rattle the bones like a skeleton's jig. This graveyard groove was whipped up in a single Saturday afternoon back in May '62—Bobby and his pal Leonard Capizzi, fresh off a gig where Bobby slipped into his Boris Karloff growl during "Little Darlin'," figured why not mash up the monster flicks with the Mashed Potato dance craze? They knocked out the lyrics in under an hour, channeling Karloff for the mad scientist, Bela Lugosi for Dracula's "Transylvania Twist" gripe, and even a Peter Lorre Igor for good measure, all while Gary Paxton rustled up session cats like Leon Russell on keys and Mel Taylor on drums. In a chat with Dr. Demento, Bobby chuckled it was "a spoof of the dance crazes, but it wrote itself," and boy, did it—sound effects and all, from coffin creaks made by yanking a rusty nail to bubbling cauldrons via straw in a water cup. Dropped on Paxton's indie Garpax label after the bigwigs passed, it exploded to number one just in time for All Hallows' Eve, selling a million and earning gold, though not without a hitch: the BBC banned it for being "too morbid" till '73. Boris Karloff himself got such a kick he crooned it on Shindig! in '65, and in a '96 People yarn, Bobby quipped, "When I hear it, I hear a cash register ringing"—the tune paid his rent for decades. Even Elvis snubbed it as "the dumbest thing I ever heard," but Bobby fired back in his act, "If you're still out there listening, Elvis, I'm still here." Over on X, fans are swapping tales like one from last Samhain dubbing it the "ultimate earworm for end-times bashes," another clipping Bobby's Bandstand strut where Dick Clark finally relented. Sequel stabs like '85's "Monster Rap" kept the crypt kicking, proving this mash-up's got nine lives and a wicked twist.

Wind the clock back to the silver screen glow where a theater kid's impressions bloomed into a monster empire, 'cause Bobby Pickett—born Robert George in Somerville, Massachusetts, back in '38—didn't chase the spotlight with a six-string from the cradle; he stumbled into it sideways, courtesy of free matinees and a knack for mimicry. Dad ran the local flick house, so young Bobby soaked up Universal horrors like Frankenstein and Dracula on the house, nailing Karloff's gravelly gravitas by age nine and folding it into schoolyard skits that had the neighborhood howling. Two paths loomed for a Winter Hill boy—gangster or jock—but Bobby dodged both, enlisting in the Army from '56 to '59 with a Korean stint that sharpened his stage dreams. Discharged and Hollywood-bound in '61, he hustled auditions by day, but nights found him crooning with swing slingers Darren Bailes and the Wolf Eaters, then doo-woppers the Cordials, where that Karloff lark during "Little Darlin'" lit the fuse. Teaming with Capizzi, they birthed "Monster Mash" as a lark, but when Paxton pressed it indie-style, the labs erupted—number one twice over, UK chart storm in '73, even a Christmas sequel "Monster's Holiday" that cracked the top 30. Acting gigs trickled in, from The Long Hot Summer to voicing Spookley the Square Pumpkin, but music's monster kept calling: "Star Drek" spoofed Star Trek for Dr. Demento airwaves, "King Kong (Your Song)" swung with the '76 remake, and he penned musicals like I'm Sorry the Bridge Is Out, You'll Have to Spend the Night. Through divorce, tragedy, and leukemia's shadow—he bowed out in '07 at 69—Bobby stayed the genial ghoul, penning his memoir Monster Mash: Half Dead in Hollywood and gigging till the veil thinned, a one-hit wonder who turned novelty into a lifelong haunt.

If the crypt's crooning your tune, Zoo Freaks, shamble over to the Wikipedia vault for the full fright-fest lore, or dust off Bobby's autobio vibes at Trafford Publishing echoes. Rally the ghouls on Facebook's OFFICIAL Bobby "Boris" Pickett Page, a spectral salon for mash-ups and memories. No fresh Instagram or X haunts these days, but fan flames flicker eternal on Dr. Demento's Facebook crew, swapping "Star Drek" spins and seasonal summons. For deeper digs, the American Songwriter crypt unpacks the mash's mad genesis, while Songfacts rattles chains with rare riffs. Stoke the lantern, twist the potato, and let's mash till the roosters crow, my moonlight misfits.