| Lincoln Durham — Revelations of a Mind Unravelling (March 25, 2016) |
Lincoln Durham — Revelations of a Mind Unravelling (Mar. 25, 2016)
♣ Proč je dobré vyslechnout si právě toto album? Jedná se o ten druh nahrávky, kterou by si přál udělat Jack White. Uvolněná, pomatená, bez komerčních omezení nebo stylistické loajality. Durham znovu a znovu dokazuje, že je sice muž ‘Nikdo’, ale zato je sám sebou. Co se stane, když sebereflexe odhaluje démona uvnitř? Takhle to je s Lincolnem Durhamem. Stojící na hraně. Ovládající umění jako prostředku k vyrovnání se s celým světem uvnitř i vně něj, což v podstatě znamená, že se jedná o muže hrající na nejvyšší sázky. Můžete promasírovat své bubny s ním a zabalit struny svých nástrojů kolem svého krku. A když je vše řečeno a uděláno, setřít pot z čela, dívat se kolem sebe na trosky po vykolejení rozumu. Mám pocit, že Durham možná právě napsal soundtrack našich životů. Je to více než napětí na provázku se zvuky, které mohl vymyslet pouze Lincoln. První polovina alba odráží poetiku francouzského básníka Stéphane Mallarmé a názor, že “poezie je jazykem krizového stavu.” Když album postupuje a cítím posuny až do úplného nervového zhroucení, jeden z nejrizikovějších okamžiků alba také plodí jeden z nejsilnějších zážitků: “White dove sitting in a cage/Choking on the olive branch and waiting for his chance to unleash his cooped rage.” Věta je převzata z písně “Noose” ve chvíli, o které si můžeme být jisti, že v případě, že cesta do jádra temnoty odhalila jen nepatrnou část našeho vypravěče, pak musí být zabit nebo nemůže být zabit. ♣ A gruff, driving style that sounds like a cross between Son House and Tom Waits, or maybe a deep country blues version of Townes Van Zandt.
♣ TOUCHED BY THE SOUTHERN GOTHIC AS WELL AS THE BIG CITY IDEA OF IT, LINCOLN DURHAM PROVES HIMSELF READY FOR WIDER ATTENTION ON THIS LATEST AND GREATEST.
Location: Whitney, Texas
Album release: March 25, 2016
Record Label: CD Baby
Duration: 31:44
Tracks:
01 Suffer My Name 2:01
02 Bleed Until You Die 3:19
03 Creeper 3:41
04 Bones 3:26
05 Prophet Incarnate 2:51
06 Rage and Fire and Brimstone 4:14
07 Rusty Knife 3:54
08 Gods of Wood and Stone 3:01
09 Noose 2:35
10 Bide My Time 2:42
℗ 2016 Lincoln Durham
Editorial Reviews
♣ 2016 release, third album from the amped up Southern–gothic–punk–gospel–revival one–man–band preaching the good word of depravity. His last album, Exodus of the Deemed Unrighteous, aimed to take a hundred–foot scythe to the doubters and the naysayers; and, as if he’s left the field decimated as evidence of his victory and has nowhere left to turn but inward, Revelations of a Mind Unraveling is pure descent into the internal agonies of Lincoln Durham’s tormented mind. The first half of the album echoes the 19th century French poet Stéphane Mallarmé’s sentiment that “Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.” As the record progresses and shifts into complete mental breakdown, one of the instants of greatest risk in the album also begets one of the most powerful images: “White dove sitting in a cage/Choking on the olive branch and waiting for his chance to unleash his cooped rage.” These lines are taken from the song “Noose” at a time in which we can’t be sure if the journey to the center of darkness has revealed a part of our narrator that must be killed or can’t be killed.
Review
BY JEDD BEAUDOIN, 23 March 2016; Score: 7
♣ Lincoln Durham Walks the Walk, Talks the Talk of a Rural American Prophet.
♣ Lincoln Durham has bubbling along with some records, but intensity comes to a full boil on this latest release. Aptly titled, the record is a journey through a mind that is as comfortable with Danzig–style gothic rockabilly (“Rage and Fire and Brimstone”), loose, backwoods blues (“Prophet Incarnate”) and dashes throughout of gospel and topnotch storytelling. This is the kind of record that Jack White wishes he could make, a record that is loose, unhinged by commercial limitations or stylistic allegiances. Durham demonstrates again and again that he’s no one’s man but his own. His guitar tones on the perfectly serrated “Rusty Knife” and his stomping, howling at the moon bats in “Gods of Wood and Stone” do indeed sound like revelation. It’s an honest enough record that it can be hard to take at face value upon first listen but repeated takes reveal that Durham was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be the real deal.
♣ http://www.popmatters.com/
© Photograph credit Robyn Von Swank
PRESS:
♣ “He taps into the ghostly side of blues, where one repeated chord is enough to conjure up a world of sound”. — Art Levy, KUTX
♣ “This is the kind of record that Jack White wishes he could make, a record that is loose, unhinged by commercial limitations or stylistic allegiances. Durham demonstrates again and again that he's no one's man but his own”. — PopMatters
♣ “With the American political and social landscapes slipping more and more into madness, I feel like Durham might have just written the soundtrack for our lives.” — Glide Magazine
♣ “Thick electric blues, mixed with the picking of a self–made cigar box guitar, among other rustically stringed instruments, lend Durham’s blend of roadhouse rock and front porch folk a gnarly texture that isn’t easily brushed off once it’s forced upon you. When Durham’s popping strings and pounding beats, even a larger festival stage can feel entirely too tiny to hold him in.” — Paste Magazine
♣ Songs from Lincoln Durham’s “Revelations of a Mind Unraveling”
♣ All songs written by Lincoln Durham / Published by Rayburn Publishing, SESAC
01. SUFFER MY NAME 1:58
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums
♣ I wish you peace, when your lord he come a–callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re dancin’ ‘round your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that undertaker / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / I wish you peace, when your devil come a callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re falling in your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that ol’ Grim Reaper / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / I wish you peace, when your devil come a callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re falling in your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that ol’ Grim Reaper / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa
02. BLEED UNTIL YOU DIE 3:16
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Fingers firm against the shank of a straight–razor / Gripped tightly, with thumb against the heel / Lets the blade slide, without disturbance / Melancholy daydreams, watching warm blood congeal / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die / Shut–up now / Listen to them / Can’t you hear them? / They’re making me beat my head against the wall / It’s the voices in my head, they’re saying “hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em all” / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die / Brother John, look at that tree / It’s a mighty fine tree, but it casts a long shadow / Brother John, beware of that tree / If you stand in the shadows it’ll make you dark too / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die
03. CREEPER 3:39
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums, Claps — Bukka Allen: Moog — Alissa Durham: Claps — George Reiff: Claps
♣ I’ve been creeping in the shadows with the wretched, and I’ve got to get away / I’ve been creeping in the shadows with the wretched, and I’ve got to get away / It’s got me so afraid, that’s why I’ve got to get away / I’ve been eating at the tables with the sinners and I’ve got to get away / I’ve been eating at the tables with the sinners and I’ve got to get away / It’s got me so afraid, that’s why I’ve got to get away / My daddy said that before I could walk, I could pert’ near rock ’n’ roll / He never said that before I could rest, I’d have to learn to save my own soul / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / But, it’s an accurate description of my malignant shame / So, heed my warnings, all those led astray / Dreams are cunning and sadistic, always ready to betray / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / My mama said that before I could talk, I could flat–out rock ’n’ roll / She never said that before I could rest, I’d have to save my own soul / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name
04. BONES 3:23
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar, Cigar Box Guitar — Rick Richards: Drums
♣ I seen an old fool in a graveyard, he was looking at an unmarked stone / He says, “As far as sins go, I’ve done all seven and then some / I’ve done everything that I shouldn’t, and nothing that I oughta / I’ve buried myself in six–foot of redemption” / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Well I seen the light, and I hid in the shadows that it casts / Every night my past burns up my head / I was a shell of a man, full of liquor, fear, and hate / I can’t say I wouldn’t have turned the stones into bread / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they tattle and they tell, that I’m a sinful man / Moan / Moan / Moan / Moan / All of my days I’ve been throwing seeds in the choking thorns of the wicked / I had my pleasure of grace right before the fall / The older the sin, the longer the shadow, that’s something that I can attest / I sometimes wonder how Paul shook the deeds of Saul / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they tattle and they tell, that I’m a sinful man / Moan / Moan / Moan / Moan
05. PROPHET INCARNATE 2:48
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Alissa Durham: Back–up Vocal
♣ I see a woman with serpentine hair, and her eyes ablaze / I see a devil, underfoot of the woman and howling with a rage / Poor little devil, maybe she’ll put you in a pretty little cage / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate / Yeah, yeah, yeah / Huh, huh, huh / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I see a poor man with head held high and crawling out the ash / I see a poor man with a great stone hammer, breaking down your class / Keep swinging little poor man, you’ve got behind you all the punks and social outcasts / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate / Yeah, yeah, yeah / Huh, huh, huh / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I find no interest in the methodical stabilities of the sane / For, I delight in the shadowy corners of unhinged thought, eating up my bad brains / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate
06. RAGE AND FIRE AND BRIMSTONE 4:11
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Lord, save my wicked soul / Save that boy in the mirror / I don’t recall his face no more / The devil looking back at me is looking at me so much clearer / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / Lord, I curse that ornery woman / Serpent–tongued, lying, scheming / I see her writhing across the floor / The Devil incarnate, seventy–seventy times blaspheming / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / Lord, I see my fellow man / Bleeding, fighting, stealing / Lord, I’ve grown to hate them all / It seems my black heart needs some healing / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone
07. RUSTY KNIFE 3:51
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Like a rusty knife finds sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self–righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh / Just a devil quoting scripture, reciting chapter and verse / Always looking for a loss of faith, or at least an open purse / Now brothers you tell me which is worse / Like a rusty knife will find sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self–righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh / Forked–tongue speaking sweet things, through the comfort of sharp teeth / All the while covering a tattoo, resembling the “Mark of the Beast” / Not exactly, but close at least / Like a rusty knife will find sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self-righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh
08. GODS OF WOOD AND STONE 2:59
Lincoln: Vocal, Banjo, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums
♣ Excuse me, can I ask you a question? / What sets you free, sir? / ‘Cause it seems that The Devil’s got something, you were thinking that you need, sir / Pardon me, just one more question / Do you think me weak, sir? / ‘Cause slaving for a dollar and a hand–job, ain’t what I need, sir / We dance for gods of wood and stone / Made by hands of skin and bones / So bow to your partner / Bow way down low / We dance for gods of wood and stone / I ain’t drinking of your poison, so don’t throw me a patronizing bone / It’s likely I’ll be dancing across your grave, and pissing on your tombstone / So, hey brother, just one last question / Is your mind at ease, sir? / To see The Devil come reaping his kin? / Well tell me brother, does that set you free, sir? / We dance for gods of wood and stone / Made by hands of skin and bones / So bow to your partner / Bow way down low / We dance for gods of wood and stone
09. NOOSE 2:33
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Percussion
♣ Shackled by ignorant hands / Calloused by the prejudice and politics that make him a so–called “man” / Sunday in the courtyard / Gawking at the fellow swinging to–and–fro from the gallows / Whatcha gonna do if the noose breaks? / Whatcha gonna do if it don’t take? / Whatcha gonna do if your devil don’t stay chained? / Oppression begets the unrest / That unifies the crucified, and sanctifies their vengeance as “holiness” / White dove sitting in a cage / Choking on the olive branch, and waiting for his chance to unleash his cooped rage / Whatcha gonna do if the noose breaks? / Whatcha gonna do if it don’t take? / Whatcha gonna do if your devil don’t stay chained? / To all you self–proclaimed “spiritualized”, who profess to prophesize, and try to exercise my so–called “demons” / Don’t you patronize, with your alibis, and your shifty eyes, shift, shift, shifting
10. BIDE MY TIME 2:41
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Alissa Durham: Back–up Vocal — George Reiff: Back–up Vocal
♣ Tell my mother that I love her / Tell my father that I tried / Tell my brother to watch over our sister / I told her I would be there, but it would seem that I lied / Yes, it would seem that I lied / Well my countenance grows ever blacker, and my pallor brighter white / But the blood flows as red as those saints in your prayers / We ain’t so different you and I / We ain’t so different you and I / I will not go to heaven / Don’t believe in the other side / I’ll stay right here in gravel and dirt, and I’ll bide my ever loving time / There’s a sinner six–foot under, and a holy man lays to the right / But, the grass grows as green on those thumping on the good book, as it does through the children of the night / As it does through the children of the night / I will not go to heaven / Don’t believe in the other side / I’ll stay right here in gravel and dirt, and I’ll bide my ever loving time
© & ℗ 2016 Droog Records, P.O. Box 41962, Austin, Texas 78704. All Rights Reserved. FBI Anti-Piracy Warning: Unauthorized copying is punishable under federal law. 00ROAMU–16
Website: http://lincolndurham.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LincolnDurham
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lincolndurhammusic
© Photograph credit Robyn Von Swank
♣__________________________________________________________♣
| Lincoln Durham — Revelations of a Mind Unravelling (March 25, 2016) |
♣ TOUCHED BY THE SOUTHERN GOTHIC AS WELL AS THE BIG CITY IDEA OF IT, LINCOLN DURHAM PROVES HIMSELF READY FOR WIDER ATTENTION ON THIS LATEST AND GREATEST.
Album release: March 25, 2016
Record Label: CD Baby
Duration: 31:44
Tracks:
01 Suffer My Name 2:01
02 Bleed Until You Die 3:19
03 Creeper 3:41
04 Bones 3:26
05 Prophet Incarnate 2:51
06 Rage and Fire and Brimstone 4:14
07 Rusty Knife 3:54
08 Gods of Wood and Stone 3:01
09 Noose 2:35
10 Bide My Time 2:42
℗ 2016 Lincoln Durham
Editorial Reviews
♣ 2016 release, third album from the amped up Southern–gothic–punk–gospel–revival one–man–band preaching the good word of depravity. His last album, Exodus of the Deemed Unrighteous, aimed to take a hundred–foot scythe to the doubters and the naysayers; and, as if he’s left the field decimated as evidence of his victory and has nowhere left to turn but inward, Revelations of a Mind Unraveling is pure descent into the internal agonies of Lincoln Durham’s tormented mind. The first half of the album echoes the 19th century French poet Stéphane Mallarmé’s sentiment that “Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.” As the record progresses and shifts into complete mental breakdown, one of the instants of greatest risk in the album also begets one of the most powerful images: “White dove sitting in a cage/Choking on the olive branch and waiting for his chance to unleash his cooped rage.” These lines are taken from the song “Noose” at a time in which we can’t be sure if the journey to the center of darkness has revealed a part of our narrator that must be killed or can’t be killed.
Review
BY JEDD BEAUDOIN, 23 March 2016; Score: 7
♣ Lincoln Durham Walks the Walk, Talks the Talk of a Rural American Prophet.
♣ Lincoln Durham has bubbling along with some records, but intensity comes to a full boil on this latest release. Aptly titled, the record is a journey through a mind that is as comfortable with Danzig–style gothic rockabilly (“Rage and Fire and Brimstone”), loose, backwoods blues (“Prophet Incarnate”) and dashes throughout of gospel and topnotch storytelling. This is the kind of record that Jack White wishes he could make, a record that is loose, unhinged by commercial limitations or stylistic allegiances. Durham demonstrates again and again that he’s no one’s man but his own. His guitar tones on the perfectly serrated “Rusty Knife” and his stomping, howling at the moon bats in “Gods of Wood and Stone” do indeed sound like revelation. It’s an honest enough record that it can be hard to take at face value upon first listen but repeated takes reveal that Durham was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be the real deal.
♣ http://www.popmatters.com/
PRESS:
♣ “He taps into the ghostly side of blues, where one repeated chord is enough to conjure up a world of sound”. — Art Levy, KUTX
♣ “This is the kind of record that Jack White wishes he could make, a record that is loose, unhinged by commercial limitations or stylistic allegiances. Durham demonstrates again and again that he's no one's man but his own”. — PopMatters
♣ “With the American political and social landscapes slipping more and more into madness, I feel like Durham might have just written the soundtrack for our lives.” — Glide Magazine
♣ “Thick electric blues, mixed with the picking of a self–made cigar box guitar, among other rustically stringed instruments, lend Durham’s blend of roadhouse rock and front porch folk a gnarly texture that isn’t easily brushed off once it’s forced upon you. When Durham’s popping strings and pounding beats, even a larger festival stage can feel entirely too tiny to hold him in.” — Paste Magazine
♣ Songs from Lincoln Durham’s “Revelations of a Mind Unraveling”
♣ All songs written by Lincoln Durham / Published by Rayburn Publishing, SESAC
01. SUFFER MY NAME 1:58
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums
♣ I wish you peace, when your lord he come a–callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re dancin’ ‘round your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that undertaker / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / I wish you peace, when your devil come a callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re falling in your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that ol’ Grim Reaper / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / I wish you peace, when your devil come a callin’ / I wish you peace, when you’re falling in your grave / I wish you peace, when you’re flirting with that ol’ Grim Reaper / But, in life, I hope you suffer my name / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa / Whoa whoa whoa
02. BLEED UNTIL YOU DIE 3:16
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Fingers firm against the shank of a straight–razor / Gripped tightly, with thumb against the heel / Lets the blade slide, without disturbance / Melancholy daydreams, watching warm blood congeal / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die / Shut–up now / Listen to them / Can’t you hear them? / They’re making me beat my head against the wall / It’s the voices in my head, they’re saying “hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em all” / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die / Brother John, look at that tree / It’s a mighty fine tree, but it casts a long shadow / Brother John, beware of that tree / If you stand in the shadows it’ll make you dark too / La la la la la, la la la la lie / Born to be buried, born to cry / La la la la la, la la la la lie / You better get to prayin’ child / You’re gonna bleed until you die
03. CREEPER 3:39
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums, Claps — Bukka Allen: Moog — Alissa Durham: Claps — George Reiff: Claps
♣ I’ve been creeping in the shadows with the wretched, and I’ve got to get away / I’ve been creeping in the shadows with the wretched, and I’ve got to get away / It’s got me so afraid, that’s why I’ve got to get away / I’ve been eating at the tables with the sinners and I’ve got to get away / I’ve been eating at the tables with the sinners and I’ve got to get away / It’s got me so afraid, that’s why I’ve got to get away / My daddy said that before I could walk, I could pert’ near rock ’n’ roll / He never said that before I could rest, I’d have to learn to save my own soul / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / But, it’s an accurate description of my malignant shame / So, heed my warnings, all those led astray / Dreams are cunning and sadistic, always ready to betray / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / My mama said that before I could talk, I could flat–out rock ’n’ roll / She never said that before I could rest, I’d have to save my own soul / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name / They call me “The Creeper”, that ain’t my name
04. BONES 3:23
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar, Cigar Box Guitar — Rick Richards: Drums
♣ I seen an old fool in a graveyard, he was looking at an unmarked stone / He says, “As far as sins go, I’ve done all seven and then some / I’ve done everything that I shouldn’t, and nothing that I oughta / I’ve buried myself in six–foot of redemption” / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Well I seen the light, and I hid in the shadows that it casts / Every night my past burns up my head / I was a shell of a man, full of liquor, fear, and hate / I can’t say I wouldn’t have turned the stones into bread / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they tattle and they tell, that I’m a sinful man / Moan / Moan / Moan / Moan / All of my days I’ve been throwing seeds in the choking thorns of the wicked / I had my pleasure of grace right before the fall / The older the sin, the longer the shadow, that’s something that I can attest / I sometimes wonder how Paul shook the deeds of Saul / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Whoa, whoa, whoa / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they rattle and they moan / Bones in my closet, they tattle and they tell, that I’m a sinful man / Moan / Moan / Moan / Moan
05. PROPHET INCARNATE 2:48
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Alissa Durham: Back–up Vocal
♣ I see a woman with serpentine hair, and her eyes ablaze / I see a devil, underfoot of the woman and howling with a rage / Poor little devil, maybe she’ll put you in a pretty little cage / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate / Yeah, yeah, yeah / Huh, huh, huh / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I see a poor man with head held high and crawling out the ash / I see a poor man with a great stone hammer, breaking down your class / Keep swinging little poor man, you’ve got behind you all the punks and social outcasts / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate / Yeah, yeah, yeah / Huh, huh, huh / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I find no interest in the methodical stabilities of the sane / For, I delight in the shadowy corners of unhinged thought, eating up my bad brains / I got stung last night / I got stung last night / It was by a prophet incarnate
06. RAGE AND FIRE AND BRIMSTONE 4:11
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Lord, save my wicked soul / Save that boy in the mirror / I don’t recall his face no more / The devil looking back at me is looking at me so much clearer / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / Lord, I curse that ornery woman / Serpent–tongued, lying, scheming / I see her writhing across the floor / The Devil incarnate, seventy–seventy times blaspheming / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / Lord, I see my fellow man / Bleeding, fighting, stealing / Lord, I’ve grown to hate them all / It seems my black heart needs some healing / Oh my god above, save this faithless, wretched sinner / Oh my god above, I don’t see myself in this here mirror / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone / I see rage and fire and brimstone
07. RUSTY KNIFE 3:51
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Bukka Allen: Moog
♣ Like a rusty knife finds sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self–righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh / Just a devil quoting scripture, reciting chapter and verse / Always looking for a loss of faith, or at least an open purse / Now brothers you tell me which is worse / Like a rusty knife will find sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self–righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh / Forked–tongue speaking sweet things, through the comfort of sharp teeth / All the while covering a tattoo, resembling the “Mark of the Beast” / Not exactly, but close at least / Like a rusty knife will find sinless flesh / It tears and scars, until there ain’t much left / I’ll bet your crown of self-righteousness, that rusty knife will find sinless flesh
08. GODS OF WOOD AND STONE 2:59
Lincoln: Vocal, Banjo, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums
♣ Excuse me, can I ask you a question? / What sets you free, sir? / ‘Cause it seems that The Devil’s got something, you were thinking that you need, sir / Pardon me, just one more question / Do you think me weak, sir? / ‘Cause slaving for a dollar and a hand–job, ain’t what I need, sir / We dance for gods of wood and stone / Made by hands of skin and bones / So bow to your partner / Bow way down low / We dance for gods of wood and stone / I ain’t drinking of your poison, so don’t throw me a patronizing bone / It’s likely I’ll be dancing across your grave, and pissing on your tombstone / So, hey brother, just one last question / Is your mind at ease, sir? / To see The Devil come reaping his kin? / Well tell me brother, does that set you free, sir? / We dance for gods of wood and stone / Made by hands of skin and bones / So bow to your partner / Bow way down low / We dance for gods of wood and stone
09. NOOSE 2:33
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Percussion
♣ Shackled by ignorant hands / Calloused by the prejudice and politics that make him a so–called “man” / Sunday in the courtyard / Gawking at the fellow swinging to–and–fro from the gallows / Whatcha gonna do if the noose breaks? / Whatcha gonna do if it don’t take? / Whatcha gonna do if your devil don’t stay chained? / Oppression begets the unrest / That unifies the crucified, and sanctifies their vengeance as “holiness” / White dove sitting in a cage / Choking on the olive branch, and waiting for his chance to unleash his cooped rage / Whatcha gonna do if the noose breaks? / Whatcha gonna do if it don’t take? / Whatcha gonna do if your devil don’t stay chained? / To all you self–proclaimed “spiritualized”, who profess to prophesize, and try to exercise my so–called “demons” / Don’t you patronize, with your alibis, and your shifty eyes, shift, shift, shifting
10. BIDE MY TIME 2:41
♣ Lincoln: Vocal, Cigar Box Guitar — Conrad Choucroun: Drums — Alissa Durham: Back–up Vocal — George Reiff: Back–up Vocal
♣ Tell my mother that I love her / Tell my father that I tried / Tell my brother to watch over our sister / I told her I would be there, but it would seem that I lied / Yes, it would seem that I lied / Well my countenance grows ever blacker, and my pallor brighter white / But the blood flows as red as those saints in your prayers / We ain’t so different you and I / We ain’t so different you and I / I will not go to heaven / Don’t believe in the other side / I’ll stay right here in gravel and dirt, and I’ll bide my ever loving time / There’s a sinner six–foot under, and a holy man lays to the right / But, the grass grows as green on those thumping on the good book, as it does through the children of the night / As it does through the children of the night / I will not go to heaven / Don’t believe in the other side / I’ll stay right here in gravel and dirt, and I’ll bide my ever loving time
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