Photographs +2

by Mischief Brew

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Exclusive to Bandcamp, this is all the Mischief Brew songs from the split LP with Joe Jack Talcum ("Photographs From The Shoebox"), plus two songs from compilation CDs. The first is "A Peasant's Rebellion" from "The State I'm In" compilation, and the other is a Mancub cover, "An Open Letter To The North American Continent," from the "Mancubbers" tribute.

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released January 22, 2014

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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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Track Name: Labor Day Massacre
Brother, you know we're all in this alone,
Take what you can get, break all but your bones
And when they finally ask you "well, what have you done?"
Say, "Life is a game and I've won, yes I've won."
Say, "Life is a game and I've won!"

You gave the asphalt a heave and then looked back at me,
Said "that is a word from the wise ones, indeed"
When you've been here this long, one day you belong
One day you wake up and forget what seemed wrong.
As the first day of May, well it quietly passed by,
As the bosses still reign 5 to 9
And you curse when I say words like "living" and "wage"
You say: "I made my house out of mud, so should they
Now the ball field is level--let's play!"

I think of the bullets, the blood, and the rage
That went in there to stir up the eight-hour day
Seems the masters have found themselves new rats to cage
And the price for a union is great
Well they gave her a raise so they raised up her rent
She says "I'll never burst from this box that I'm in"
But she's too scared to talk, to step off the sidewalk
So she shrugs it all off as the luck of the draw
And the labor you cry that's been robbed from your kind
With dirt on your hands and sweat in your eyes
If the fortunate son really wants to eat dust,
Well. I'm sure there's a good chance he'll be hired

There's a million stories of the crimes left to rot
But I never will raise as long as I sleep on the job

So, you say "brother, you know, we're all in this alone
Take what you can get, break all but your bones
And when they finally ask us well what have you done?"
Say, "Life is a game and I'm done!"
Track Name: Bury Me In Analog
So I got a stack of tapes
Got a name and maybe date
They're gonna be worth something someday
That is, if I pop that song,
Just about three minutes long
'Bout how you done me wrong
Or make the outrage safe
And if before my time
I decide to take my life
You can take these treasures
And pull them up into light
Make every song a gem
Take every one of them
Release a collection of cacophonic hits

And remix and remaster my disasters
All first-draft words and never-before-heard acoustic takes
It's yours
From the shoebox to the online store

Bury me in analog
Pull the reels up
Nearly burned and water-logged
And release it
They bought it, you sold it
Got nothin' for everyone
They bought it, you sold it
Got nothin' for everyone

And when it goes out of print,
You could then re-issue it
Trade off the publishing rights
To the highest bid
To a queen or king of pop
Sell revolution off
It's an investment, man
I can't make this stuff up
And the brats I leave behind
Will party every night
And sleep all day 'til five
And live the trust fund life
And they'll call the radio,
Complain and curse and moan
'Bout how everybody thinks
It's cake to live this way

And my grave will be showered
With the latest scent of flower power
And the freaks will drive by my street
And cry and sing and dream
And listen to the new CD

Bury me in analog
Take the suit and you can have it auctioned off
Couple thousand
They bought it, you sold it
Got nothin' for everyone
They bought it, you sold it
Got nothin' for everyone
Bury me in analog,
Every paper that I ever scribbled on
Is a treasure
Chart-topper, best seller
Yeah, it'll be yours to take
And buy it and sell it
It's all garbage anyway
The thieves and the suckers
Have all gone out to play
Track Name: Banks Of Marble
(By Les Rice/Pete Seeger, adapted by Mischief Brew)

I've traveled 'round this country
From shore to shining shore
It really made me wonder
The things I heard and saw

I saw the weary farmer
A'plowing sod and loam
I heard the auction hammer
Just a'knocking down his home
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the farmer's sweated for

I've seen the fisherman standing
Idly by the shore
I heard his bosses saying
"Ain't got no work for you no more."
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the fisherman has sweated for

I've seen the weary miner
A'scrubbin' coal dust from his back
I heard his children crying
"Ain't got no coal to heat the shack."
But the banks are made of marble
With a guard at every door
And the vaults are stuffed with silver
That the miner's sweated for

I've seen my people working
Throughout this mighty land
I swear, we'll get together
And together make a stand
And we might own those banks of marble
With no guard at every door
And we will share those vaults of silver
That we have sweated for
Track Name: Watching Scotty Die
(Words/music: The Dead Milkmen)

I've got a kid, his name is Scott
He's going blind and his blood just will not clot
The doctors line in rows
To stick tubes up Scotty's nose

There is the field
Where Scotty used to play
Until Ortho-Orange Number 42
Was dumped in it one day

I think it's so funny, I laugh until I cry
Just me and God, watching Scotty die
Just me and God, watching Scotty die

The chemical plant across the street
Leaves off steam that colors our white sheets
It's been happening for years
Now I'm crying rainbow tears

One day my dog went out to play
Instead of gray, he came back colored yellow
The chemical men said, "Stay mellow"
It happens all the time
Now Scotty's skin is lime

I think it's so funny, I laugh until I cry
Just me and God, watching Scotty die
Just me and God, watching Scotty die
Track Name: Gather Ye Acorns
Gather up ye acorns, child
For the coming wintertime
Gather up ye acorns
Before the fire turns to ice
Crumbs, they fall from tabletops
Let's round 'em up and fill that pot
Gather up ye acorns
It's gonna freeze up tonight

The woods leave us a treasure
Got a map to a merry feast
I never weigh or measure
I just take all I can see

Gather up ye acorns, child
For the coming wintertime
Gather up ye acorns
Before the world turns to white
Cause lightning strike the money tree
But lucky you and lucky me
We gathered all our acorns
It's gonna be alright
It's gonna be alright
Track Name: Smash Potwatching!
Bring up the reserve
What good does it serve down there?
I season a dream
I wait for the steam and stare out there
A turn and a tick
Clock-cursing as if it cares
As if it's to blame
For blowing over the card-house of fate
Too late

Ah, who needs a clock when the kettle's a'flame?
Watch your hands 'round the boiling steam
Does sun chase moon, or is it the other way?
Watched pot
Smash potwatching
No longer wait
No longer wait

Trace the trail of a crack
Resting there on your back in peace
Wait here patiently
Where you'll be counted just like sheep
'Til you fall asleep

And as the doors close, your tea grows cold
So it's back on the flame
But it's never the same
I'm standing in line
I'm checking the time
Too hot to drink
So chop me a block of ice

We were wasted by a quarter to nine
Two in the morning and you opened the wine
Friends of mine, may we never run out of time

Bring up the reserve
Before I kill the nerve and fall asleep
Asleep

Smash potwatching!
Track Name: A Peasant's Rebellion
Run child, run away
Come around no other day
Roll a bed or snap a case
Run child, run away
Spark it up around the waste
And drink until you dehydrate
And old world is behind you
Another one awaits
And every town is different
But it all turns out the same
So run child, run away
Find the lost and found, and trade
Dye your hair, shave your face
And rearrange your name display

And now you're wide awake to start again
A day before you find your new best friend
All day, you're playing House, War, and Pretend

Run friend, from the sea
Walk on further up the beach
Hope to find somebody's keys
Run friend, from the sea
Say that all this cannot be
Better dig a hole, and dig it deep
You say this is your home now
It's only been a week
But you swear you'll fight with all your might
To save it 'til you're beat
Then grab a train or hop a bus
I'll betcha there's a ride to bum
And set up camp beside the bay
Another thousand miles away

But there's just as much misery afar
And you're still the same old burning star
And still you turn away, but there you are

When you wake up in the morning
And the state don't seem the same
You're a bomb without a warning
You're the singing in the rain
When you wake up in the morning
To a bad world full of dreams
You're a bomb and you're the warning
And I'll be seeing you downstream
Track Name: An Open Letter To The North American Continent
(Words/music: Ben Hutson)

Continental, make a better man of me
You sold the words, put us in herds
But that'll never set us free
My dreams, collecting dust, break down
Like the faith I never found
And you never helped me up
But you always let me down

We're supposed to delight in your will
While you're stalking your prey
Some sort of spit-shine salvation
That'll never see the light of day

Some friends went to jail
Some finally came clean
But you slept in sandcastles
And woke up in between
And clarity came in the spring
With salvation waiting in the wings
Guesswork and 80 miles
You sought sainthood in the ceiling tiles
While the messenger was shooting up downstairs
But who cares what they said?
You contemplated being dead
But decided against it
After hard drugs and religion
An aluminum empire that you built with both hands
An upside-down cross and a line in the sand
And I still haven't written the rest of the words