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Cosmic Dread Country

by Chris Kiehne

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1.
I ain’t afraid of no BIG BLACK DOG. I got two pit-bulls on my squad. I got brave Brom Bones, with his graveyard face, And Cricket, with her evergreen heart. Man, I love those dogs. I would spill my selfish blood. I ain’t got no time for no cosmic dread – I got two pit-bulls on my squad. I ain’t ashamed of what things I done, And I ain’t ashamed to want the things that I want. Yeah, I made a few mistakes. I hurt some people I loved. But I been trying to do a better job. I ain’t trying to Christ-up, like I did when I was young. I just want to get right. Maybe write a book. And I ain’t ashamed to want the things that I want. I ain’t afraid of no GRIM OL’ GOD --- I been running with the devil so long! I got my blue suit on, We’re drinking Weller Antique, And we’re buyin for the whole damn bar. No, we ain’t bad dudes. We’re just trying to have a little bit of fun. We ain’t got no time for no cosmic grudge – We ain’t afraid of no Grim Ol’ God.
2.
Ol' Grim God 03:27
Old Grim God: gimme some clemency now. I can feel your hammer coming down. I been on this wire for such a long time now. I been on this wire for such a long time. The alder on the ridge is dread and bare now. A peregrine perched in its silver crown. Like the promise of the world to come. That’s the promise of the world. There’s a hole in the earth and its guts pour out. It’s scrambling to pick ‘em all up. But there’s filth on the floor and there’s flies all around. And it can’t get the pieces lined up. It’ll never get it all back now. You can never get it all back. Old Grim God, show a little mercy now. Get your hand on the goddamned wheel. It ain’t funny. Get your hands back onto the wheel. The night is long and our maps are wrong and our lights are all burnt out. We’re just driving by the feel of it. We’re just driven by the
3.
Weren’t I haunted? Weren’t I one to adore? Weren’t my blues the most genuine blues in the world? Black shirt, black jeans, long dirty black curls... Baby, wasn’t I haunted? Weren’t I one to adore? Jesus. All that I wanted was to be adored. Weren’t I righteous? Weren’t I good with the lord? Didn’t I show up, on Sundays, in my shin-guards, to church? Didn’t I light the candles? Didn’t I sing the words? Didn’t I honestly want to hear the word? Or was I yet a pretender, just charming my grandmother? Head bowed, but looking at girls? Was this dread something that I earned? Ain’t I grown humble? Don’t I know my own worthlessness? I look at this town, and it just seems fucking obvious: The long dark night’s come down, And our only defense is stubborn defiance. Is bold stubbornness. Is saying the same thing until it starts to make sense. The words have to be spoken for the words to have strength. I will speak these same words til they catch: Goddamnit, I’m hopeful. Goddamnit, I’m blessed. Goddamnit, I’m hopeful. Goddamnit, I’m blessed. Goddamnit, I’m hopeful. Goddamn, ain’t I’m blessed. Goddamn, ain’t I hopeful. Goddamn, I’m blessed.
4.
Slain Giant 04:09
Slain giant, sleeping faun. Remnants of a penitential fire on the mountaintop. The bloom of hope… and then the harvest, lost. Let’s pour another round. We can sort it when the morning comes. Slain giant, sleeping fawn. Yeah, I guess that I been carrying this grudge a little bit too long You ain’t no dread god; you’re just a berry-picking son-of-a-gun. Hey, buddy: we’re the same. We’re just conceited little fuckers. That’s all. Slain giant, sleeping fool. Lord, how I loved my blues. Ever since I was a kid, I been a shadow in a sunlit room. I swear to god though, honey, I been trying to improve my mood. Slain giant, sleeping judge. I knelt in the Valley of Elah, and I looked up: a crow in flight, the low winter sun. Beyond them an eternity of silence stretching on and on and on.
5.
There was a roadhouse in my heart. I set it on fire for you, babe. I watched it burn. I felt the warmth upon my face. All the liquor and cocaine – The unlit cigarettes – Up in flames. Yeah, sure. I guess I quit. I know that I was wrong. I know that you were right. But I’m restless and I’m bored, And I liked the reckless life. I burnt the roadhouse in my heart. I tried to make it look like an accident. A claim was made – I never got no settlement. The rubble sits there in my chest Waiting for development. Just one more ruin in the wilderness. I know that I was wrong. I know that you were right. But I’m restless and I’m bored, And I liked the reckless life. But now the bar is on the door And the band is quiet. There was a roadhouse in my heart. I set it on fire for you, babe.
6.
I'm gonna wake up in the morning. I'm gonna put on some coffee. I'm gonna feed my dog, and throw open the shades. I'm gonna let some light on in. I'm gonna climb up onto the mountain and take in the scenery. I won't shout your name, or curse anything. I'll just sit there patiently. I'll carry my grief under my skin, And I'll try to remember how lucky I've been. I'm gonna walk down the lane. I'll smile and wave. I'll do all the things people do when they're really O.K. I'm gonna go out in the evening and I'm gonna order some whiskey. I'm gonna do the same things that I do every day, and, tomorrow, I'll begin again. I'll carry my grief under my skin, And I'll try to remember how lucky I've been. I'm gonna walk down the lane. I'm gonna peacock and crane. I'll do all the things people do when they're really O.K. And maybe, one fine morning, I'll wake up eagerly, And all these parts that make up the man I seem to be will come naturally to me.
7.
Lantern 03:32
This is how I know that I'm a lucky man: I got this big stupid heart pumping blood, and one good hand, and I woke up this morning. Yeah: I know I been a selfish kid. I been a coward and a narcissistic idiot. I thought that I was the lantern. I mean, I really thought that I was the lantern, or something, But there ain't nothing in this world but the darkness, and there ain't nothing in this world that can't be fixed or forgotten. I spent a season in the wilderness with a case of whiskey and a copy of Moby-Dick, thinking I might bear witness. I thought I might bear witness to something, But there ain't nothing in this world but the darkness, and there ain't nothing in this world that can stop it. This is how I know that I'm a lucky man: I share this big brass bed with a fine woman and a pit-bull pup. And they woke up this morning. We woke up this morning.
8.
Some Men 02:44
Some men would beg you for mercy. Some would submit or concede. Some men would repent, or forgive, or forget, But those are men that I’ll never be. Some men would pack up their guitars. Some would put down the whiskey. Some men would get right, and find honest work, But those are men that I’ll never be. I never asked you for nothin’, and I don’t require a scene, but I’m gonna need more than simply ‘your word’ if you expect me to let you back in. Some men would buckle in horror. Some would grovel and scream. Some men would go mad, and forfeit their lives, But those are men that I’ll never be. Some men would beg you for mercy.
 Some would fall down to their knees. But you built me wild, and stubborn, and free, And those are men that I just don’t choose to be
9.
Even Now 03:31
As it stands... There’s no fire on the mountain. There’s no voice calling us home. There’s no staff turned, there ain’t no stone turned to fountain, There’s no debt, and nothing earned. You, my love: You’re the sign and the wonder. You’re the grace of the earth. You took the last of my selfish hunger and you gave me honest work. Years to come, not one soul will remember What it is here that we have done. The only thing that keeps these wild blues held together Is the spirit that we put in them. My heart used to hunt for some great final purpose. My heart used to hunt for design. But I don’t sing anymore for the hunt. I sing for us. Hallelujah. We’re here. We’re alive. So. Every night, we’ll run howling through the north wood. And we’ll welcome every breaking day. Because, even now, all of this could end so many different ways.

about

I would speak, and I will not fear Him,
for that is not the way I am.
- Job 9:35-6.

You aint nothin.
- the kid, Blood Meridian.

It starts with a simple question: “What if Ahab had just written a folk record instead?”

Here’s what happened: I was still living in Brooklyn, two years after I should have left, writing a lunatic graduate thesis on Melville, McCarthy, Job, the medieval desert mystics, Celtic ghost-poets, and regenerative violence in the American West. I was also working retail in Park Slope. I had developed persistent, undiagnosable chest pain. And then I lacerated my cornea, during a blizzard, and picked up the flu waiting in the emergency room. For three days and nights I lay blind and immobile. Not even Ira Glass’ voice could bring me comfort. A hopelessness fell upon me that took eighteen months to shake.

Cosmic Dread Country came out of all that. I wrote the songs because I needed weapons. I wasn’t concerned with elegance or artistry; I just needed something that I could grab onto and swing. It’s a record about depression. But it is more a record about defiance, and dogs, and love, and healing up. It’s about faith and faithlessness; it’s about being an adversarial believer; it’s about celebrating bodily spirit. It’s about seeing that grim ol’ cosmic dark coming on down the line… and still - stubbornly, insanely - willing yourself towards hope. Let the good times roll.

credits

released October 31, 2018

Created by Chris Kiehne.
Featuring Sonya Cotton.
Photograph by Ryan Muir and Ethan Moses.

CDC is for Lauren, Bones, and Cricket, with much gratitude.

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Chris Kiehne Towson, Maryland

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