The Scurvy Pirates - The Scurvy Pirates
Piratecore's finest - only? - exponents shine on their debut. Arr.
Judge Judy. Armand Assante. Cheese-in-a-can. There are some things in life that are made good by the magnitude of their sheer awfulness. And so it is with Brooklyn's finest (and only?) pirate-core band, The Scurvy Pirates. There's a chance that their self-titled debut disc is one of the worst things you'll ever hear. These boys can't sing, their timing (particularly that of the bucket-playing percussionist) is pretty lax, and their tunes sound very, very similar. However, their dedication to piracy (more The Pirate Movie than The Pirates Of Penzance) is fierce, and - like an album recorded by your best friend's band - they grow on you by dint of occasional musical brilliance (in my case, it's the line "...even though we go to sea in droves, all us pirates is homophobes" from Porn Buoy); by the end of the disc, you'll want them to succeed, in spite of yourself.
Musically, this is Tiger Lillies ground, but the deadpan nature of that group isn't to be found here; indeed, you can hear some of The Scurvy Pirates stifling laughter during some of the tunes -- this detracts a little, but their infectious idiocy will carry you past that, and the CD's lacklustre production. Then again, I'd imagine there's not that much that can be done to give an accordion/guitar/plastic bucket combo much sparkle.
Inbetween some songs, shoddily-recorded live speeches give the disc a bit more of a personal feeling; these, like the "Look! I'm about to sing a rude word -- but I won't!" tune, Crayfish, don't entirely work, but it does give you the opportunity to hear a pirate ask one of his cohorts to stop attempting to boggle him with spatial mathematics. The songs run the nautical gamut, from tuna and crayfish to press-gangs and boozin', to the most inspired remake of a Beastie Boys tune you'll ever hear - Fight For Your Right To Plunder, which is rendered genius by the phrase "your friends confiscated your best piece of swag". Yauch and Co. should be chuffed; it's goofier than the original by half.
Still, it's not all cringe here: Stowaway is one of the cheesiest (and as such, most inherently lovable) sing-it-with-the-barflies tunes about love below the decks (and hot times in the crow's nest) I've ever heard, replete with Elvis-at-sea vocal monologue over the top, while Whiskey & Rum is a stompingly good - albeit frat-boy - tune that won't leave your head, no matter how much you drink.
Go out and buy this CD. It's terrible, but you'll love it - and it's not every day that you can bring home a parchment-styled album with a wax seal on it, a map inside it, and some tunes helmed by some Brooklyn-based, 300-year-old defrosted pirates. If you're not impressed, I'll keelhaul you myself.
This article originally appeared on splendidezine.com
Judge Judy. Armand Assante. Cheese-in-a-can. There are some things in life that are made good by the magnitude of their sheer awfulness. And so it is with Brooklyn's finest (and only?) pirate-core band, The Scurvy Pirates. There's a chance that their self-titled debut disc is one of the worst things you'll ever hear. These boys can't sing, their timing (particularly that of the bucket-playing percussionist) is pretty lax, and their tunes sound very, very similar. However, their dedication to piracy (more The Pirate Movie than The Pirates Of Penzance) is fierce, and - like an album recorded by your best friend's band - they grow on you by dint of occasional musical brilliance (in my case, it's the line "...even though we go to sea in droves, all us pirates is homophobes" from Porn Buoy); by the end of the disc, you'll want them to succeed, in spite of yourself.Musically, this is Tiger Lillies ground, but the deadpan nature of that group isn't to be found here; indeed, you can hear some of The Scurvy Pirates stifling laughter during some of the tunes -- this detracts a little, but their infectious idiocy will carry you past that, and the CD's lacklustre production. Then again, I'd imagine there's not that much that can be done to give an accordion/guitar/plastic bucket combo much sparkle.
Inbetween some songs, shoddily-recorded live speeches give the disc a bit more of a personal feeling; these, like the "Look! I'm about to sing a rude word -- but I won't!" tune, Crayfish, don't entirely work, but it does give you the opportunity to hear a pirate ask one of his cohorts to stop attempting to boggle him with spatial mathematics. The songs run the nautical gamut, from tuna and crayfish to press-gangs and boozin', to the most inspired remake of a Beastie Boys tune you'll ever hear - Fight For Your Right To Plunder, which is rendered genius by the phrase "your friends confiscated your best piece of swag". Yauch and Co. should be chuffed; it's goofier than the original by half.
Still, it's not all cringe here: Stowaway is one of the cheesiest (and as such, most inherently lovable) sing-it-with-the-barflies tunes about love below the decks (and hot times in the crow's nest) I've ever heard, replete with Elvis-at-sea vocal monologue over the top, while Whiskey & Rum is a stompingly good - albeit frat-boy - tune that won't leave your head, no matter how much you drink.
Go out and buy this CD. It's terrible, but you'll love it - and it's not every day that you can bring home a parchment-styled album with a wax seal on it, a map inside it, and some tunes helmed by some Brooklyn-based, 300-year-old defrosted pirates. If you're not impressed, I'll keelhaul you myself.
This article originally appeared on splendidezine.com
