On one particularly dark and stormy night, when I was around 21, I went walking up a little dirt road near my house and stumbled onto something that seemed a bit out of place in suburbia: a witch’s seance. Their candles flickering, droves of girls stood chanting a bunch of Wiccan stuff into the wind as it howled around them. The only thing that made it less gothic was that it took place in a community pool parking lot. But Salem would have been the perfect soundtrack to muffle their moronic chanting; its eerie electronica could be the audio equivalent of Rosemary’s Baby or The Amityville Horror any film noir-horror flick from the past half-century. That’s only for the first few minutes, until it gradually builds into a crescendo of early 80s synth-organ, distorted wails, and one big wall of screams — which for aficionados of the genre might conjure images of the George Romero and Stephen King schlock horror masterwork Creepshow. It’s not all stream-of-consciousness and soundtrack though; Salem’s happy to throw in a variety of different beats, mostly of the dance-able type. And you’ll barely even notice when a scary voice chants “RBMA Radio!” halfway through the commotion.