Kettle Rebellion

by Kettle Rebellion

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From the mire, raise my head Ha ha, they thought I was dead! Now where was I before the wolves came around? I have heard here and there Of wealth as free as the air Of truth as clear as a crystal Of labor without worries or cares I have heard of a clan Are they here or in faraway lands? Wood-dwelling rebels and revelers I was told by a friend That this great quest would only begin If I'd stop circling in circles behind my own bars And spiral on out to the fiery stars Cross this river, pay the toll By the gods, I feel I'm so close From which direction does the night music drift? I am worn, thirsty and thin I stumble into an old inn As the barman inquires, "A bed or a grave?" I say neither I'm seeking the brave 'Round the licks A victory dance Eat and drink and sing my children
There's mischief in the eyes of peddlers A love to dance in the hearts of meddlers I'll trade steeds but never trade 'way my days To be a working slave A graceful road to a quiet grave A merchant with a broomstick chasing my mother away If I'm a goblin or a devil Why do I send joy to the rabble? Why do I fill your childrens' hearts with hope? You send them to dreamland Armed with lies that I have no fortune grand Name me a working man But I am not a slave No I am not a slave, no You set traps for the vultures When they come for the dead Over the hills, under the earth Goodnight, city Fiddles lilting 'Round the licks, a victory dance Eat and drink and sing my children And here is wealth! Bread for the bakers And goods from the makers There's shoes not fit for their princes But fit for we Kings and queens Oh, if you could taste our dreams They're breeding strangers, bitter settlers And there's mischief in the eyes of meddlers
There was a knockin' at my door It's the dreaded landlord He wants his rent and wants it now And he is careless how He left us in a vacant daze Askin' how we got here And we retired to slumber But the glasses never were rinsed There was a tapping on my back It's the dreaded foreman I think I see a smile Through his teeth and his cigar He put my hands to working Said they'd otherwise do nothing And I made a thousand things today I'm sure I'll never use There was a ringing of my bell I picked it up to answer They said they were my comrade But they couldn't say my name So I asked about the sun and moon And what their thoughts on time were They hung it up in madness And went on to punch the clock And somewhere there's a sound of someone singing I got an invitation once to liberty They had a mischief brew, but no goblets were used Besting rum or porter 'Tis a liquor never brewed, never brewed There was a rapping at my door It's the dreaded policeman He had a ticket to enter Signed by fools and stamped with laws He questioned me on politics Scorned my generation For not respecting elders And the land's authority So when the landlord came to knock I said, "Come back tomorrow!" There's more life I'll be living Than just slaving from your wage And to the troop and foreman Make yourself the things I don't use For I'm off into the forest For a liquor never brewed Today, I'm following the sound of someone singing I got an invitation once to liberty They had a mischief brew, but no goblets were used Besting rum or porter 'Tis a liquor never brewed, never brewed
To see the world through an empty shotglass Shake order on the rocks of chaos Liberty as the ripest fruit That if not eaten shall rot and bruise See a saint succumb to sin Bow down, return again To find rage in passion and fear in love Poverty in wealth above Give me life and all sweet pain The knives of truth, the hope in rain Savage beauty and the fiery plains Show me dawns never tamed To think we'd live on bread alone Betting on angels to carry us home I'll take some flesh and bone Heard a priest condone the bombings But heard a cop condemn the shootings Good flirts with bad and the scholars go mad 'Twas the strangest meal I've ever had And you long for a steady journey Stable country, simple morning But the evening of a ruthless knife Brought the sweetest sunrise of your life Give me life and all sweet pain The knives of truth, the hope in rain Savage beauty and the fiery plains Show me dawns never tamed To think we'd live on bread alone A'fearing devils, fire and stone A'fearing flesh and bone A'cursing devils, fire and stone A'cursing flesh and bone Away away Away with purity
Barratry, hey! Barratry, hey!
Who is this that stands before me With a candle at its end? There's a fire in the wheatfield And a storm around the bend There's strangers out a'prowling 'Round the great harvests of hay So gather all your family And send them all away And to your youngest daughter Hide her smiles, hide her curls For the master is a drunkard And he'll sell her off for pearls Hide her from the vile workbeast Cover her ears from the screaming world For the master is a drunkard And he'll sell her off for pearls Who goes before the tyrants Wielding innocence, like fools? You'll need a thousand armies And a tale to tell your troops Tell a tale of harsh oppression And the will to thrive again How your master is a bastard And his day must see its end And when they start to falter Bring their hearts a carving knife And I will not wince in sorrow Sir, you did not take a life For on the final day of lashing You won the wardship of their souls Captured, blackened by your orders Then set free in the wintry cold You say your master is a bastard And you cannot stand his yoke If your master is a bastard Take a knife up to his throat There's no means to scold your daughter When she overturns a stone There's no comfort in a dark house No harmony in torpid moans Your bones are rickety hinges Your back, a rusty tin So you shambled to your bedside Found your wife in bed with him If your master is a drunkard Don't bring him wine, or pour If your master is a drunkard Escape to freedom while he snores
Take me back to where the ale is golden And where the rum is black Where the welcome's bright, where lamplights invite Through a doorway's thinning cracks See the dancers swing by the windows Looking in from the falling snow For I turned away to the break of day Singing, off to work I go Well, there was no end to our unrest We couldn't leave that town too soon 'Til we found ourselves by the benches Our guardian, the moon And then the skies grew all the blacker And rain came a'drumming down And it fouled our nest and we got no rest Take me back to that fucking town Laughter, a song of the free Drink this toast proposed to thee Now we're standing by the clockworks A rope around our necks Placing bets on what strange morning We shall greet after this rest And it's late on doomsday evening And we slept all afternoon Craving days of yore so feared before Crying, "set, you sun and moon!" Drink this toast proposed to thee Where were you when the gates were open? When the guard had sleepy eyes? When we first shattered our windows Running out into the night? Did you rise to greet the morning? Did you lose all the bounds of time? Or were you selling off the present For a morrow never nigh?
It's true, our lords have lost their minds From the thirst for blood and the hunger to dine On the freshest meat from the foreign rogues Such a manner of fools that are heirs to this throne In the house of the mad House of the perverted They're talking to mirrors They're dancing in circles The art of their warfare's abstract and absurd In the house of the mad House of the perverted Feel the leather upon our hands And remember who carried the sands Feel the leather upon our hands So sleep, my child, and like the sun you will rise Your dream never lies Awaken, my child, the fields are calling your name They bring a new day It's true, our lords have cut out their hearts They're slaying the artists and selling their arts They're slaying dissenters in public at noon Seems we'll all be slain if the lords are not soon In the house of the mad House of the perverted They're talking to mirrors Dancing in circles They own all the land But want more for their burden Which we're made to carry When like sheep, we're herded We pass the old workers a'paving dead roads Wading 'round towers in treacherous moats Begging for change and trading their souls Gambling their children and bargaining hopes We asked why they stand in such foul, wretched earth They held up their jewelry and bowed to their mirth We could have been trammeled by such vexing lies But still we stormed onward Now hither's our prize To storm the great sandcastles We'll need great waves Of revolt and bravery Who are the brave? We are the brave


Kettle Rebellion was the first "full-band" incarnation of Mischief Brew. Formed in 2001, after the "Mirth" demo was unleashed, the band only played five shows in Philly, recorded eight songs in 2002, and that was that. The songs were never mastered nor released. A few years later, some kids were staying at Erik and Denise's house and one of them swiped the final mixes. He made up his own song titles (because they weren't listed), and put it on Soulseek as a "rare Mischief Brew record." That totally sucked. Twelve years later, we secured an adequate high-bitrate backup copy so we seized the opportunity, mastered it, and now are finally releasing it. It is limited to 250 copies on oxblood vinyl so don't delay! Also available on April 1st digitally, and on CD from Different Circle Records, UK. Tolkien-style medieval anarcho-balladry.

Here is the REAL track listing, not the invented one:
1. Seeking The Brave
2. Victory Dance Of The Outlanders
3. A Liquor Never Brewed
4. Away With Purity
5. Barratry Call
6. The Master Is A Drunkard
7. Doomsday Evening
8. Storming The Sandcastles


released April 1, 2014

Erik Petersen - Voice, guitar, mandolin
Jon Foy - Bass, voice
Chris "Doc" Kulp - Drums, percussion, voice, gong, bugle


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Mischief Brew Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Emerging from the undead ashes of PA punk troupe The Orphans, Mischief Brew started with a scratchy demo tape in 2000 and has since spread the good word of anarchy, hilarity, and rebellion across state lines and even the Atlantic Ocean a few times. We've managed to exist for over 13 years in one form or another by kissing nobody's ass and doing everything ourselves, for the most part. No rules! ... more

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