It's probably for the best that he doesn't hit one of the husks before she pulls out a radio, he very clearly intended to.

The radio is eyed, the matter of hanging and its cruelty put aside. It's inefficient, and that was enough for him, he wouldn't bother with such methods. "'Music' is songs of some kind," he says, with the subtle caution of someone not really sure about the statement. "And it keeps them from changing."

This actually is fairly reasonable to him; he sets a hand on his hip, frowning at the nearest husk. "Always figured the song had to be in person, not a recording. Who knew." That would have been nice to know sooner, they could have used it in more than one fight! "Alright, let's see how it works."