Supernatural UPMARKET Horror
A debut novel from Martin Kent
A DIABOLICAL PLOT
HIS GUITARS ARE MASTERPIECES...
HIS PLAYERS ARE CORPSES
SHRED TILL YOU’RE DEAD is set in 1971 New York, where dying young is seen as a career move. Iggy Gravenides is a scarred, nine-fingered luthier with daddy issues the size of Madison Square Garden -- and desperate to prove himself. When he stumbles upon wood ripped from a Brazilian shaman’s sacred grove, he recognizes mojo like he's never seen -- and sees a way to remove the stain of "loser" his father has seared upon his soul. He builds magnificent guitars that have just one little problem; they turn out to be cursed — transforming musicians into gods — for the price of a life. Rolling Stone spreads the news like a virus — and orders pour in.
His boyhood pal, Del Caruso, is the gonzo reporter and a gasoline-on-the-fire participant in Iggy's Faustian enterprise. As Iggy ascends to rock ’n’ roll royalty, the musicians he’s turned into corpses begin following him around New York like court jesters from hell. Iggy comes to realize he’s become an instrument of a shaman’s revenge against colonial greed. That may be. But after a lifetime of chasing validation and recognition, business is booming, and he's hesitant to pull the plug. Until… his lifelong Chicago blues idol demands a guitar, and he's torn: Deny his hero — or deliver him to the curse? The answer arrives at an apocalyptic reckoning at the Fillmore East, where the house literally comes down. And at the crossroads of fame and infamy, the price is always the same: Shred Till You're Dead.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Martin Kent is an Emmy Award-winning documentary creator, journalist, and musician whose storytelling career spans over three decades.
His deep roots in the horror genre began with a direct collaboration with the master of horror himself, Wes Craven, for whom he wrote, produced, and performed the iconic end credits theme song for A Nightmare on Elm Street.
A Career in Storytelling
Beyond the screen, his work has shaped major media landscapes:
- Comics: Worked alongside Stan Lee at Marvel Comics, producing their monthly fanzine.
- Television: Served as a founding production executive for the launch of the E! Entertainment Channel.
- Journalism: Editor of The Hollywood Reporter and published features in The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times and other noteworthy publications.
- Documentaries: Created Emmy-winning films, many focusing on legendary musicians, capturing an audience of over 100 million viewers worldwide.
Background & Craft
He holds a Master’s degree in Broadcast Communications from Stanford University and has spent over twenty years as an award-winning speaker with Toastmasters International. His creative work online has amassed over 2.6 million views on YouTube.
With Shred Till You're Dead, he combines his lifelong passions for rock history, music production, and dark, psychological horror into a terrifying literary debut.
The Novel's Origin Story
The Obsession Begins
I was visiting Salem, Oregon a few years ago when I found myself in front of a used guitar shop and noticed a Martin D-18 acoustic guitar in the window. It seemed to be calling me, so I went inside to try it out. The instant I picked it up I felt a connection I'd never had with an instrument, and I own many guitars. I played it nonstop for about an hour when the owner finally came up to me and said, "Well, are you interested in buying it?" I replied: "How can I not?" I paid for it and took it with me. The very next morning after I returned to San Diego with the Martin (my namesake), I woke up, grabbed the guitar, sat on the sofa in my underwear, and began to play. My wife left for work. When she walked back through the door at the end of the day, I was still sitting on the exact same spot on the sofa, still in my underwear, still playing.
After a week of this admittedly bizarre, compulsive behavior, a chilling thought hit me:
"Do I own this guitar, or does this guitar own me?"
It seemed like the ghost of Robert Johnson had come to pay a visit -- and was winking at me. As a lifelong writer and horror aficionado, the creative gears instantly locked into place. If a beautiful, standard acoustic guitar could consume my life for a week, what would happen if a brilliant, desperate craftsman built an electric guitar out of cursed timber? What if the instrument didn't just demand your time—but your very soul?
With that single question, the story of Iggy Gravenides and his cosmic, soul-eating guitars was born. I chose to set it during the classic rock era, when rock stars were going all out and dying young. Each death in the "27 Club" -- Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Rolling Stones co-founder Brian Jones -- was a stab in my heart. I still feel the loss. --Martin Kent
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"IT'S A NIGHTMARE!" The story of how it came to be
Back in the day, Wes Craven and I were close friends. We spent a lot of time together, and one evening after dinner we headed back to his house in Santa Monica and kept talking late into the night. I asked him what he was working on, and he handed me a script he'd just written called A Nightmare on Elm Street. At the time, his agent was still shopping it around Hollywood. I asked if I could read it, and Wes gave me a copy.
That night I sat down and read the entire script in one sitting. It grabbed me from the first page. By the time I finished, chills had been running up and down my spine for hours. I called Wes the next morning and told him, "Once this movie gets made, you're going to become one of the biggest names horror has ever seen."
A year later, with the film nearly completed, Wes called and said there was one thing still missing: an end credits song. I told him I regularly jammed with two talented musicians, Steve Karshner and Mike Schurig, and that we'd get together immediately and see if we could come up with something worthy of the film.
The moment we started playing, the chemistry was there. The ideas came fast, the groove locked in, and before long, the song seemed to write itself. We all had the feeling that something special was happening. We recorded a rough version on cassette, and I immediately called Wes.
About an hour later, he pulled up in his beautiful 1961 Jaguar XKE—an E-Type with a cassette player installed. I climbed in, handed him the tape, and tried not to look nervous while he listened.
The song finished.
He rewound it.
Then he played it again.
When it ended the second time, he turned to me and smiled.
"It's great," he said. "I'm putting it in the movie."
That was all I needed to hear.
I went back to Steve and Mike, shared the news, and we decided it was time to give ourselves a name. We called the band 213, after Los Angeles's predominant area code at the time.
The movie became a cultural phenomenon. Freddy Krueger became a horror icon. Wes Craven's place as a master horror filmmaker was indelibly written. And our song found its place in the closing credits of an iconic, groundbreaking film known throughout the world.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Rest in peace, my friend.
I dedicate SHRED TILL YOU'RE DEAD to you.
