Dallas Band Daughters of Evil Are Fictional and Possessed by Demons | Dallas Observer
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Daughters of Evil Are the Spinal Tap of Dallas, With a Demonic Twist

The Daughters of Evil are a fictional band playing real venues.
Daughters of Evil at Electric Starship Arcade in January.
Daughters of Evil at Electric Starship Arcade in January. Photo by Jerry Hayes
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“Blood splatters on the altar. It sounds like raindrops. Pitter patter.” That lyrical combination of the profane and the prosaic is what defines the Daughters of Evil, a fake-but-not-really band now regularly haunting Dallas venues.

The group started out as a sideshow for the latest horror short film from Natasha Malone, but now they’ve grown into their own thing. Daughters of Evil (the film), the third cinematic outing from Malone, portrays an overly enthusiastic vlogger (played by Taylor Shaye) who finds an old record of a girl group from the ‘60s alongside a VHS recording of their sole television performance. The film cuts to an American Bandstand-type show set in Sulphur Springs, where the three musicians are interviewed about the demonic possession that gives them their unique sound.

Horror is a longtime obsession for Malone, who worked for Fangoria magazine before the pandemic. These days she works as a podcast producer and uses her vacation time to produce movies. Malone co-directed, wrote and stars in the short as Mary Jane, the guitarist of Daughters of Evil. She’s joined by Ariel Ditta (of local act Protoctalgia Fugax) as drummer Mary Sue and Jenessa Michelle Soto (Exile the Damned) as Mary Beth on bass.

The trio was heavily inspired by groups like the Shangri-Las, and they even mimic the spoken word portions of “Leader of the Pack” during their song “Raindrops.”

For Malone, who grew up obsessed with that era of rock 'n' roll, getting to play the style was a dream come true.

“I love the ‘60s and ‘70s,” she says. “My first internship was at WOGL-FM 98.1 in Pennsylvania, though sadly they’ve moved forward to the ‘70s through the ‘90s. My dad would play that music in his car, The Beatles and Paul Revere and the Raiders. I’ve always wanted to have my own band and make movies, and my husband [James Malone of Arsis] suggested I combine them both. Problem solved! It had to have a twist because my other passion is horror, so I fused it all together into this weird Josie and The Pussycats meets The Exorcist thing.”

The girls recount how they were inhabited by a demon called Beleth after they used a Ouija board to come up with a band name. It’s a reference to a famous story (almost certainly not true) told by a member of Alice Cooper who said the moniker of the band was revealed to them via spirit board by a dead 17th-century witch of the same name.
The band and their infernal patron, Beleth.
Screenshot from Daughters of Evil
Once the full story of their infernal empowerment is told, the girls prove their demonic bona fides by projectile vomiting all over the show’s host, played by Texas indie horror legend Joe Grisaffi.

Rob Neilson of Savage Henry Films was the short’s director of photography. He remembers the absolute mess the days they filmed the vomit scene. Grisaffi had to stand in a kiddie pool to protect the floor while an air compressor was hooked up to mimic the girls each blasting him with fake body fluids made of mushroom soup.

“Joe is such a trooper,” says Neilson. “We soaked him for days and he never complained. He did finally say, ‘Guys, I’m really cold,’ but that was it. I remember walking into the bathroom where they had mixed it. There was a garbage can full of empty soup cans. If someone walked into the bathroom, they would have freaked out. I would rather walk into a bathroom and see someone shooting up than a mystery garbage full of used soup.”

According to Malone, they once forgot about Grisaffi after leaving him under a tarp covered in soup, for which she enthusiastically apologized. Overall, the short is gruesomely hilarious, alternating between comedy and horror seamlessly in a way few movies can. It’s inarguably gross in a John Waters sort of way, without losing the charming Satanic vibe of the possession horror genre.

The film was finished last summer and was submitted to a handful of festivals. However, the band aspect gave Malone a marketing opportunity most movies don’t have. Since she already had a band and a handful of original songs, why not play shows around Dallas as Daughters of Evil?

So far, most of the gigs have been preceded by screenings so that the audience gets the joke. Ditta has enjoyed continuing to play in the band. A longtime musician in the area, she picked up drums just over a year ago. She works at the School of Rock in Southlake with Malone’s husband and has missed playing regular gigs as she focuses on teaching the next generation at her 9-to-5.

When Malone called for help, she was ecstatic to join.

“One year, Natasha had this haunted house in the Music City Mall,” Ditta says. “She asked me to work it, and I made a few kids cry. I’m pretty sure that’s why she wanted me in the movie. It was so sick! I love The Exorcist and all the scary movies, even the really dumb ones.”

So far, Daughters of Evil have played a handful of shows around town wearing mod dresses and full demonic makeup. They have a repertoire of five original songs and fill out their sets with a handful of covers done in ‘60s girl-group style. These include Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” and “Goo Goo Muck” by The Cramps.

The album that appears in the film is sold as a 45 at their merch table. Malone would love to produce a full mockumentary feature like This is Spinal Tap and may do so if interest continues to build. In the meantime, she’s enjoying the band as both performance art and a commercial for an excellent horror short.

“I would love to keep it going as long as possible,” says Malone. “Everyone is always pushing me to write the feature.”

Daughters of Evil perform March 16 at Doc’s Records & Vintage, 2628 Weisenberger St., Fort Worth. Admittance is free.
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