Erik started making music at a young age, but it wasn’t until age 16 that he started playing shows with his punk band, The Orphans. Influenced by “Fresh Fruit”-era Dead Kennedys and “Worlds Apart”-era Subhumans, the band had released a 7” (“Anthems for Doomed Youth,” 1996) before half of them were even old enough to drive. They officially disbanded in 2000 and Erik continued to make music…digging into the past for a more traditional sound to mix with punk ideals. The result was “Mirth,” a demo of acoustic punk influenced by medieval danses and raucous Romany dust-raising ditties (2000). The tape was rough and scratchy - yet it was clear that there were solid anthems buried under that hiss, which was evident by the scope of the tape, spanning city and state. Logically, a live show was expected – and despite the drums and extra instrumentation on the tape (all layered on a four-track recorder), there was no band. Over the years, seeing “Mischief Brew” on a flyer meant you were just seeing Erik Petersen with an acoustic guitar or mandolin. There was no PA in the beginning, just a roomful of West Philly’s finest rabble-rousers singing along to the “Mirth” songs. And for quite some time, this is how things stayed until it was necessary to deliver a proper recording.
“Bellingham & Philadelphia” (2003) is a split LP/CD with Washington state’s roving songcrafter Robert Blake. Meanwhile, Fistolo Records (the label Erik co-founded and runs with his wife Denise) released the “Bakenal” CDep. It was hard to believe that all the songs were recorded in the same session and split between two releases, as they were completely different experiences soundwise. “Bellingham” was more Phil Ochs/Bob Dylan-style political folk, while “Bakenal” delivered gypsy-punk swing, Poguesy drinking songs, and even a drunken tango. Two years of touring followed, from punk bars to basement shows. Meanwhile, Erik visited the studio here and there to record a few acoustic tracks for the Orphans discography (“Raise the Youth,” 2004), and the Mischief Brew “Oh Sweet Misery b/w All About the Class War” single (2005).
For an official full-length, Mischief Brew needed a non-traditional studio (by punk standards), since the songs required a more varied instrumentation to bring forth the gypsy melodies and circus beats. Impressed by the work of Israeli producer Tamir Muskat (Balkan Beat Box, Firewater, Big Lazy…), Erik visited the Brooklyn studio that he runs. Vibromonk has produced records by such festive acts as Gogol Bordello, World/Inferno Friendship Society, Firewater and more…the kind of place that knows how to mic a marimba. For this record, a backing band was assembled consisting of bass, drums, accordion, clarinet, and junk percussion. Guest appearances by Sturgeon (Leftover Crack), Peter Hess (Guignol), and Franz Nicolay (World/Inferno, The Hold Steady) bring the album even more character. “Smash the Windows” (2005) includes the folk-punk anthems “Nomads Revolt” and “Roll Me Through the Gates of Hell” – but also the epic tale “The Gypsy, The Punk, and The Fool” and the klez/ska rendition of “A Liquor Never Brewed.” The album closes with “Departure Arrival,” a sweet folk lament about leaving the comforts of home for uncharted cities and towns. “Departure” was also featured on “Up the Stairs and Through the Hall,” a 2xCD compilation of independent artists and bands from Philadelphia.
But wait, there’s more! Meanwhile, Mischief Brew released a split 7” with David Dondero (an influence on Bright Eyes) and another with -Bread & Roses (Boston-based labor folk at its best). The newest recording, “Songs from Under the Sink,” is a batch of anarcho-folk songs written between 1997-2002…finally put on LP and CD once and for all. If it had to all fit under one banner, it would read, "Carnivalesque!"
Devil Of A Time
Mischief Brew Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
A stranger stumbled into town,
He talked of turning tables 'round.
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
Shot and slam the glasses upside down.
Shot and slam the glasses upside down.
But the first one to strike a match.
Shot and slam the glasses upside down.
I did not paint a face on the sleeping guard.
I did not paint a face on the sleeping guard.
A conviction sleeps when the sun goes down,
So copper try and catch me now.
I did not paint a face on the sleeping guard.
Well the silent sirens wait in the alleyways.
Well the silent sirens wait in the alleyways.
'Till the stone on board is cracked in two,
We can spin the red and blue.
Silent sirens wait in the alleyways.
The alleyways, oh the alleyways.
For the moon is under water,
For the carnival canals.
I gotta' rattle fragile waters.
For what's a city, with no underground?
Yeah, yeah, yeah's.
No underground.
To wander through a Venetian maze.
When the devil mocks the streets of New Orleans.
But the Devil's Brew I drank tonight.
Tomorrow have me exorcised.
I tighten up my necktie once again.
Rahahahahah
Crown me the merry lord of this rule.
With a cracked mask, late hangover, and a ragged suit.
Well I curb sided, I crept from sleep.
Some stranger left behind his reeds.
Crown me the merry lord of this road.
Hey hey, for the moon is under water,
On the carnival canals.
I gotta' rattle fragile waters.
For what's a city with no underground?
Yeah, yeah, yeah's.
No underground.
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
They say who's this drunkard stumbling down?
With rags upon that shorted brow.
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
Of a time?
Of a time?
The lyrics of Mischief Brew's "Devil of a Time" describe a night of rebellion, mischief, and mayhem amidst the backdrop of a dystopian reality. The song opens with the singer reminiscing about the "devil of a time" they had when a stranger came to town and talked about overturning the status quo. The chorus repeats the line "Didn't we have a devil of a time?" along with the pounding of glasses and the resounding laughter of the characters.
In the second verse, the singer boasts of being the first one to strike a match and ignite the revolutionary spirit. They also deny any involvement in the painting of a sleeping guard's face, a symbol of their defiance and elusiveness. The third verse refers to the police presence waiting in the alleys, in anticipation of a revolt, while the revelers maneuver and spin the colors of their resistance. The final lines of the verse chant "silent sirens wait in the alleyways," emphasizing that even the authorities are aware of the brewing dissent.
The final verse alludes to different cities and their upcoming dooms. The moon is under water, and the carnival canals and alleys are portrayed as the last bastions of resistance. The singer crowns themselves as the "merry lord of this road" amidst the chaos, with a ragged suit and a cracked mask. The song ends with a question posed by the other characters regarding the singer's drunken and disheveled appearance, to which they respond with another hearty laugh and a reminder of the exploits of their rebellion.
Line by Line Meaning
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
Recalling the good times we had, and perhaps a hint of mischief.
A stranger stumbled into town,
He talked of turning tables 'round.
An outsider came with radical ideas, seeking to upset the status quo.
Shot and slam the glasses upside down.
I was the last one to take a mask,
But the first one to strike a match.
Drinking and revelry, with a hint of rebellion and subversion.
I did not paint a face on the sleeping guard.
A conviction sleeps when the sun goes down,
So copper try and catch me now.
The artist denies painting the face of a sleeping guard, and reflects on the impunity one can feel under the cover of darkness.
Well the silent sirens wait in the alleyways.
'Till the stone on board is cracked in two,
We can spin the red and blue.
Silent sirens wait in the alleyways.
The alleyways, oh the alleyways.
Acknowledging the ever-present threat of police, who will strike only when provoked or when their authority feels challenged.
For the moon is under water,
For the carnival canals.
I gotta' rattle fragile waters.
For what's a city, with no underground?
Yeah, yeah, yeah's.
No underground.
Reflecting on the fragility of the social order, and the importance of an underground network or resistance and rebellion.
To wander through a Venetian maze.
When the devil mocks the streets of New Orleans.
But the Devil's Brew I drank tonight.
Tomorrow have me exorcised.
I tighten up my necktie once again.
Invoking imagery of a surreal and incongruent cityscape, where vice takes many forms and can be hard to resist, and acknowledging that there may be consequences for one's actions.
Crown me the merry lord of this rule.
With a cracked mask, late hangover, and a ragged suit.
Well I curb sided, I crept from sleep.
Some stranger left behind his reeds.
Crown me the merry lord of this road.
Accepting a position of authority and leadership among a group of like-minded troublemakers, with a hint of humor and self-awareness.
Hey hey, for the moon is under water,
On the carnival canals.
I gotta' rattle fragile waters.
For what's a city with no underground?
Yeah, yeah, yeah's.
No underground.
Reiterating the importance of an underground network for the artist's vision of a better world.
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
They say who's this drunkard stumbling down?
With rags upon that shorted brow.
Didn't we have a devil of a time?
Of a time?
Of a time?
Closing the song with a repetition of the first line, perhaps leaving the listener to decide whether the devilish time was truly worth it in the end.
Contributed by Kaitlyn M. Suggest a correction in the comments below.