Song picture
Chronic Halloween Syndrome
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A song about torture and being naturally dressed up for Halloween every day of the year. The only instrument used in this song is the human voice.
outsider ambient experimental new zealand noise industrial chaos crazy insane silly avant garde musique concrete insanity psychotic anti music erratic regressive
Artist picture
Dead Kid Harvester is a solo avant-garde/experimental/noise artist from New Zealand with a complete disregard for any form of music convention such as harmony o
Dead Kid Harvester is a solo avant-garde/experimental/noise artist with a complete disregard for any form of music convention such as harmony or tempo. The primary instruments used are vocals and kitchen utensils. The life of a song typically begins with the lyrics, written with no consideration for rhythm or beat. Dead Kid Harvester takes influences ranging from doom metal to drone, industrial and old school punk, and polarizes them into an industrial cacophony of noise. Recorded samples and segments are combined haphazardly into songs, with frequent use of pitch shift and time stretch effects. The preferred lyrical themes are insanity, horror and philosophy. Dead Kid Harvester makes use of both jarring and subtle variations between channels to invoke uneasiness and disarray. In 2018, after nearly ten years of recording and procrastination, the debut full-length album The First Sign Of Madness was finally completed. Tracks appear on: 2009 - DEMUS Compiled II 2009 - We'll Leave the Lights On 2011 - 5DBSSS One - tha ReeMux is (remix 'Metal on Utensil') 2012 - SIGNALVOID (exclusive songs 'Puberty', 'Stubborn Cupboard') 2016 - Through the Drift and the Unspoken 2017 - No Synth Noise Compilation (an interpretation of an Into Orbit track)
Song Info
Charts
Peak #98
Peak in subgenre #17
Uploaded
March 23, 2011
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.9 MB 128 kbps 3:07
Lyrics
Twenty-four seven, three-sixty-five. I look in the mirror, and I see horror. What the creator gave me makes me hoot 'Cause my Halloween costume is my birthday suit. No make up, no fangs, no white sheets. Every day I'm ready to go out on the street. The boys they run whenever I am near. The girls they scream in squeamish fear. Witches, gremlins, splatter guts and gore. Burnings at the cross and chambers of torture for dirty little whores. Chainsaw massacres and voodoo dolls raise a hair, But nothing can beat The scare when I yell trick or treat! Abominable cannibals, severed heads and toes. Man-eating monkeys and circus freak shows. Walk the plank swarming with killer ants. Never-ending nightmares of David Bowie in tight pants. Nothing will shake you and shock you more Than the day I come knocking at your door! Scrape your skin with iron combs, And for dessert a bath of acid. Spluttering, gurgling, 'til your mouth foams. Sickly sweet pleasure, devilish delight. I'm sorry dear, did I give you a fright?
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