
Folk horror (as a musical style) evokes the uncanny collision of pre‑Christian, pastoral folkways with the anxieties of a largely orthodox Christian society. It uses traditional folk timbres and modes to suggest the persistence of pagan ritual beneath the surface of rural life.
In practice, this means modal folk melodies, ritual drums and drones, eerie choral writing, and creaking acoustic textures, often juxtaposed with analog electronics and environmental sounds. The resulting sound world feels at once ancient and modern—romantic and ominous—capturing the fear of pagan folklore by a mostly orthodox Christian society.
Sources: Spotify, Wikipedia, Discogs, Rate Your Music, MusicBrainz, and other online sources
The musical grammar of folk horror coalesced alongside British cinema’s “unholy trinity” of rural occult films—Witchfinder General (1968), The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971), and The Wicker Man (1973). Scores and needle‑drops blended English folk song, modal fiddling, hand percussion, drones, and rustic choirs with harpsichord, recorder, and early electronics. Paul Giovanni’s The Wicker Man (1973) is a template: folk dance forms and pastoral balladry made disquieting through ritual context and lyrical double meanings.
Though folk horror ebbed on screen, its musical language lingered in the UK’s psych‑folk underground and in post‑industrial/apocalyptic folk scenes, which explored pagan imagery, drones, and ritual percussion. Library music and documentary scores of the period also carried the eerie pastoral aesthetic.
A 2000s reappraisal of 1970s public‑information films, library cues, and occult TV fostered a “hauntology” current: labels like Ghost Box reanimated the uncanny pastoral through tape patina, analog synths, and folk modalities. Broadcast & The Focus Group’s Witch Cults of the Radio Age (2009) distilled the folklore‑meets‑media anxiety central to folk horror.
The resurgence of folk horror cinema—The Witch (2015), A Field in England (2013), Midsommar (2019), In the Earth (2021)—brought the sound back to wider audiences. Composers such as Mark Korven, Jim Williams, and Bobby Krlic (The Haxan Cloak) leaned on nyckelharpa, hurdy‑gurdy, voice choirs, and detuned analogs, cementing a contemporary palette: ritualistic pulse, modal laments, drones, and environmental sound design.
Today, folk horror signifies not just a film score style but a broader musical mood spanning psych‑folk, dark folk, hauntology, and experimental electronics: the pastoral rendered uncanny, where folk ritual and Christian modernity uneasily coexist.