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Plenty Wrong to Go Awry

by Churchwood

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rdscott450
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rdscott450 Churchwood is an excellent band, and I've enjoyed seeing them live many times. This album does a great job of capturing the power of their live shows. The strong vocals highlight songs that are alternately ominous and defiant, exclamatory and inquisitive -- all buoyed by strong and eclectic musical arrangements. The music is like a 21st expansion on the Blues tradition - while sounding little like anything that you've ever heard. I look forward to getting to see them again! - Robert Scott Favorite track: Tantamount.
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  • Streaming + Download

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Churchwood's album 'Plenty Wrong to Go Awry' on professionally replicated and printed compact disc in jewel case. Includes 8 page lyric booklet.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Plenty Wrong to Go Awry via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Churchwood's new album on 180 gram opaque white vinyl in an edition limited to 100, includes download card.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Plenty Wrong to Go Awry via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    edition of 100 
    Purchasable with gift card

      $22 USD or more 

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 8 Churchwood releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Johns 2:22, 6: The Boule Oui, Plenty Wrong to Go Awry, Hex City, 3: Trickgnosis, 2, Just The Two of Us, and Churchwood. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $33.80 USD or more (35% OFF)

     

1.
2.
This feelin’ has got me up from my knees Freewheelin’ past lunatics and disease I’m reelin’, I’m floatin’ light as a breeze Pinwheelin’ three hundred sixty degrees Sold down the river to the Royal Orleans They tried to hold it but it kicked down their dreams They tied it to the kitchen table for fun It stole the silver and made off with a gun And now it’s movin’ Looky there it’s moving again Hey, it’s movin’ Yeah, movin’ again Anybody got a better way to battle boredom? Anybody got a better way to battle by the book? A bottle and a bible and the bottom of a barrel Put the boogie in the boogeyman and crooked in the crook This feelin’ has got me up from my knees Freewheelin’ past lunatics and disease I’m reelin’, I’m floatin’ light as a breeze Pinwheelin’ three hundred sixty degrees Ran through the jungle to the ricochet beat Holed in the bayou where it met Jean Lafitte He sent a pirogue to the place where it stood Je suis une connasse, but this feeling is good And now it’s movin’ Here it comes it’s moving again Yeah, movin’ Looky there it’s movin’ again Anybody got a better way to battle boredom? Anybody got a better way to battle by the book? A bottle and a bible and the bottom of a barrel Put the boogie in the boogeyman and crooked in the crook Sold to Cotton Mather Sold in New Orleans Stole my soul I gather Now steal it back for me This feelin’ has got me up from my knees Freewheelin’ past lunatics and disease I’m reelin’, I’m floatin’ light as a breeze Pinwheelin’ three hundred sixty degrees It hangs its hat up in the Tupelo trees Lies down with dogs but never gets up with fleas Keeps seven steps ahead of any old hound On feet like match heads over sandpaper ground And now it’s movin’ Looky there it’s moving again Hey, it’s movin’ Here it comes, it’s movin’ again Yeah, it’s movin’ Yeah, moving again There it goes, it’s movin’ Yeah, movin’ again Anybody got a better way to battle boredom? Anybody got a better way to battle by the book? A bottle and a bible and the bottom of a barrel Put the boogie in the boogeyman and crooked in the crook Anybody got a better way to battle boredom? Anybody got a better way to battle by the book? A bottle and a bible and the bottom of a barrel Put the boogie in the boogeyman and crooked in the crook Sold to Cotton Mather Sold down in New Orleans Stole my soul I gather
3.
I saddled the blood weed on the lawn before daybreak All throatlatch, gaskin, hock, and withers in the sprint I rattled the mud fleas on the bawn near the canebrake Like a bolt from a bowstring lent my feathers to the flint There’s plenty wrong to keep my mind off the mishaps There’s plenty wrong to keep the puzzle implied There’s plenty wrong that’s plenty fraught with plenty missteps There’s plenty wrong to go awry I followed the river down through pastures of crowbait Caught forty-seven winks inside a rusted-out Ford Unhallowed ground was all I found at such a slow gait I jinxed the best in me when I cursed out the Lord There’s plenty wrong to keep my mind off the mishaps There’s plenty wrong to keep the puzzle implied There’s plenty wrong that’s plenty fraught with plenty missteps There’s plenty wrong to go awry Can’t straddle a mudhole with a wheelbarrow most days I can’t recall at all which way that I came I keep my satchel full of bones to feed the devils that the ghosts raise Call me “Whatever Boy” though that ain’t my real name I saddled the blood weed on the lawn before daybreak All throatlatch, gaskin, hock, and withers in the sprint I rattled the mud fleas on the bawn near the canebrake Like a bolt from a bowstring lent my feathers to the flint There’s plenty wrong to keep my mind off the mishaps There’s plenty wrong to keep the puzzle implied There’s plenty wrong that’s plenty fraught with plenty missteps There’s plenty wrong to go awry There’s plenty wrong to keep my mind off the mishaps There’s plenty wrong to keep the puzzle implied There’s plenty wrong that’s plenty fraught with plenty missteps There’s plenty wrong to go awry There’s plenty wrong to go awry There’s plenty wrong to go awry
4.
In The Rex 03:34
5.
Oh! insidious I says in medias res Oh! the hexagony of it all Waxing noetic we mourn the bona fide Six sides to every fable, six sides There is an ape in the apiary stealing honey and time While we workers shuck & jive We, the makers of the hive We, the takers of the dive We break us, they survive Hexagony! Hexagony! I cry Fly about the blooms of the field Weighed down by all the dust that they yield Spy what no one else can reveal Rely on what you know to be real Hey! Who carried the cult in a box for you? Hey! Who cultured a pearl from your pain? Hey! Who cultivates food for thought free for you? Hey! That difficult buzz in your brain. Oh! spurious I says in some corner of Juarez With sunlight coaxing maximum taboo Lunatics sour the underworld Six sides to every table, six sides There is an ape in your apostasy stealing beauty and mind While we workers indivisible Offer nothing more inquisible Yeah, we know that it’s all risible We’re the Bees of the Invisible Hexagony! Hexagony! I cry Fly about the blooms of the field Weighed down by all the dust that they yield Spy what no one else can reveal Rely on what you know to be real Hey! Who saddled the horse that took wing for you? Hey! Who paddled the course through the gloom? Hey! Who battled the forces that bring to you Those flatulent voices of doom? Why by why we cradle “because” Sigh by sigh we sally along Fly by fly, though fatal we buzz Before we die we’re sullied by song Fly about the blooms of the field Weighed down by all the dust that they yield Spy what no one else can reveal Rely on what you know to be real Hey! Who carried the cult in a box for you? Hey! Who cultured a pearl from your pain? Hey! Who cultivates food for thought free for you? Hey! That difficult buzz in your brain. Why by why we cradle “because” Sigh by sigh we sally along Fly by fly, though fatal we buzz Before we die we’re sullied by song
6.
Well, if the brass wakes up a bugle, my boy Is reveille really its fault? And if the wood wakes up and it’s a red violin Is it Stradivari assault? Call it what you want to Call it what you will Call it anything at all for a spell And then piss on the fire and call in the dogs It’s two below and fallin’ in hell Well, you can paddle through the puddle to Byzantium town Or perne there in the gyres of yore We is the light in the darkness T H F O ’Cause we remember when the poets kept score Stranger things have happened They’re happenin’ still You’d better buckle up and strap in pell-mell And then piss on the fire and call in the dogs It’s four below and fallin’ in hell When all the lights went out on the merry-go-round The ticket takers drew up a sign It read HELL FROZE OVER, CALLIOPE FROWNED, AND HADES HAD IT COMING—THE SWINE Well, that’s a sign of things to come and A sign of the pill Blue or red, the dead have tales to tell Before they piss on the fire and call in the dogs It’s six below and fallin’ in hell Back on the roof, meanwhile, I watched the furnace blow out The paparazzi gathered around Snappin’ fake-news photos of the fires below Before they took the elevators back down Remember where they’re goin’ and where they’ve all been They’ll make a fortune on the tales they tell I said remember where they’re goin’ and where they’ve all been They’ll make a fortune on the blankets they sell And then piss on the fire and call in the dogs It’s eight below and fallin’ in hell Yeah, piss on the fire and call in dogs It’s ten below and fallin’ in hell Yeah, piss on the fire and call in the dogs It’s twelve below and freezin’ in hell
7.
Haint Blue 03:42
Writhing, kything, sly thing ophidian Roiling, spoiling, uncoiling the pridian Who dreams of you will find that few Can charm the hue of blackness from your hide The ceiling’s blue, this house is true Away with you, no darkness shall abide Blazing, phasing, amazing meridian Cerulean blues and hues of viridian Beneath your blues a purpling bruise Contagions ooze from one vast ugly mind But if we choose these blue suede shoes We flat refuse its haunted, hunting kind Writhing, kything, sly thing ophidian Roiling, spoiling, uncoiling the pridian Who dreams of you will find that few Can charm the hue of blackness from your hide The ceiling’s blue, this house is true Away with you, no darkness shall abide
8.
Eliot whispered “Valerie.” Dylan mocked the mystery: “I’ve just had eighteen whiskies straight.” But Thoreau saw clear in his dire state. He said “Moose. Indian.” Moose. Indian. “It’s a long time since I drank champagne,” Said Chekov circling his drain. Silence harried Ezra Pound, But Dickens uttered “On the ground.” “Goodnight, my Kitten”—Hemingway When The Boss shot out his lights that day. “Why do we live?” Rimbaud made note, “Send me the news.” And that’s all s/he wrote. Moose. Indian. Moose. Indian. O. Henry lay cold knees to head. His feet are warm; he can’t be dead. No one goes out with feet on fire. “Joan of Arc did,” O. said, then expired. Like John the One-Eyed Human Drum Succumbed to plague ere the win had come, “Make my hide, my feet, and paws Drum heads for the Bohemian cause. And say, “Moose. Indian.” Moose. Indian.
9.
Tantamount 03:25
10.
I drove a Thunderbird up Highway 67 I rode a lightnin’ bolt down the gutter pipe from heaven Fixin’ to call on you Fixin’ to fall for you Fixin’ it all for you Fixin’ to call on you Hitchhiked from Tupelo clear to Chincoteague Point, Virginia With a big idea, girl just to see if I could put it in you Fixin’ to call on you Fixin’ to fall for you Fixin’ it all for you No matter if it’s right or if it’s wrong Fixin’ to crawl for you Like a king snake in some John Lee Hooker song Swam up from New Orleans on the mighty Mississippi Drank my fill of muddy water now my head’s a little trippy Fixin’ to call on you Fixin’ to fall for you Fixin’ it all for you No matter if it’s right or if it’s wrong Fixin’ to crawl for you Like a king snake in some John Lee Hooker song Snakin’ my ways to you All in a daze, it’s true Stakin’ my claim to you If it’s all the same to you Natchez by mornin’ Cape Girardeau by November Driven on by three or four things I can’t help remember Fixin’ to call on you Fixin’ to fall for you Fixin’ it all for you Fixin’ to call on you High in the high grass When I sidle up beside her Giddy-up and go my little sweet St. Louie rider Fixin’ to call on you Fixin’ to fall for you Fixin’ it all for you No matter if it’s right or if it’s wrong Fixin’ to crawl for you Like a king snake in some John Lee Hooker song Snakin’ my ways to you All in a daze, it’s true Stakin’ my claim to you If it’s all the same to you

about

'Plenty Wrong to Go Awry' is the fifth full-length album by Austin-based avant-garde blues band Churchwood. Even though the album was recorded in the summer of 2019 and mixed in the spring of 2020 it thematically addresses the current dystopian times we live in through a poetic and sometimes historical lens but still manages to have some fun on more traditional roots roadhouse tunes “Tantamount’ and ‘Fixin’ to Crawl’. It possesses the dense, challenging music and guitar interplay that fans have come to expect from the band and will appeal to fans of Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen, Captain Beefheart and Tom Waits who like their poetry with some roots and garage infused oomph.

credits

released October 16, 2020

BILL ANDERSON: GUITARS
ERIC BOHLKE: DRUMS
JOE DOERR: VOCALS/HARP
ADAM KAHAN: BASS
BILLYSTEVE KORPI: GUITARS

RECORDED JUNE 2019 at AMERIPOLITAN STUDIOS
in AUSTIN, TEXAS by CRIS BURNS
MIXED 2020 by CHICO JONES
DIGITAL MASTERING by KURT WIPFLI

ADDITIONAL MUSICIANS:
CELLOS on ‘Famous Last Words’ by JESSICA ELEY and HENNA CHOU
THEREMIN on ‘Bees of the Invisible’ by AILEEN ADLER
HORNS on ‘Tantamount’ and ‘Plenty Wrong to Go Awry’ by LEILA HENLEY (Saxophone) and DILLON BUHL (Trombone)
ORGAN on ‘Piss On the Fire’, ‘Haint Blue’, ‘Ain’t Your Choir‘ and ‘Fixin’ to Crawl‘ by MATT KELLY

ALL SONGS WRITTEN & ARRANGED by CHURCHWOOD and PUBLISHED by SAUSTEX SONGS - BMI, except ‘FIXIN’ TO CRAWL’ written by STEVE DOERR and JOE DOERR, musical arrangement by CHURCHWOOD and PUBLISHED BY STEVEDORE MUSIC and SAUSTEX SONGS (BMI)

COVER ART by CHURCHWOOD

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