Old Bloopbeard's Tale

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An epic pirate story inspired by the colourful language you might use on Talk Like A Pirate Day, and the fanciful idea that pirates stuffed their cannons with kitchen utensils.

outsider ambient experimental new zealand noise industrial chaos crazy insane silly avant garde musique concrete insanity psychotic anti music erratic regressive

Dead Kid Harvester

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

Genre

Alternative • Experimental

Charts

Peak #1,265

Peak in subgenre #239

Uploaded

February 05, 2011

Track Files

MP3

MP3 8.3 MB • 128 kbps • 9:04

Lyrics

'Twas five past the turn on a ghost's annum hand
And nineteen o' September were clawin' from East
When a freebooter spirit plundered me lub o' the land
And I traded all in for a jolly sea-faring beast.

With a mess o' picaroons, blackjack to the sky,
A wannion for adventure and barrels o' grog filled high,
Turned dungbie to the shore, my furner an' me.
Jettisoned the land and chose a seven course meal of seas.

Weren't long afore we opened our account,
Raping and pillaging and burning villages.
Looting ourselves a gigantic amount.

'Til amongst our booty we did discover
A piece of a map and then another.
A red X marked the dream our minds pondered
And so it set the path our ship wandered.

Upon that we were seekin', the new-found greed we'd adopted
Homed like it were a beacon, and so our scuttlebutt we concocted
Of a sheltered cove and an island far off Barbados
And nineteen paces abaft a rotten tree,
Three feet o' sand and then a chest packed thick with crusadoes.
Nothin' to belay me triumph short of mutiny.

A thought digested too soon
For I found me self at the sharp mercy o' them picaroons.
The chest were big but their eyes were bigger
And the idea of fair share made them s n*** .
Off the plank, marooned, and without a blade too.
So Old Bloopbeard grew.

Score and then some days, scavenging for morsels in dismay.
'Til somehow I hornswoggled Davy, my charm the only bait
And Lady Luck patched a much needed salmagundi 'pon me plate:
A new friend whose name were long forgot, a derelict washed in from afar,
Dragging enough rags to follow the stars.

With a wooden leg of a rudder,
I pointed abut a half-blind course
In search of more significant shores.
Something worthy of bein' a land lubber for.

Beached within a week, to a new home I did retreat,
Wired to the jungle of copper and concrete.
A pirate reborn, for the old pirate were dead.
Now I keelhaul gigabytes through the tubes,
Sailing digital torrents instead.

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