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Driftless

by Harry Kimball

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1.
I've flown into a thousand small town airports I've leaned against a million tan sedans I set up shop to distill local flavor All alone, smokin' a bone, standin' by the side of the road countin' paper Straight on red through center-city Houston Slow ride like a king without a crown My mind is kicked-up backroads dust and static Other minds are veiled behind the thunder coming down If you wanna see me I'll be downtown Spreadin' that spreadin' that New York money around See me offer rides to local Kathy I ask her, “Show me how the light glints on the river Show me simple joy unalloyed, free Maybe I'll come 'round to tastes sub-lunary” Well there's a whole host of things I can't buy The river deep and eagles flying But others I'm gonna try Brown leather, gasoline, cigarettes and black coffee If you wanna see me I'll be downtown Spreadin' that spreadin' that New York money around Kathy says, “Where I'm from we don't pray for justice We pray for mercy in my family Something out of nothing is not something that we get And what we get we give away down by the Mississippi” If you wanna see me I'll be downtown Spreadin' that spreadin' that New York money around
2.
Up on the ridge with Killer and Kate Kate she guards the sheep and Killer wakes up late Unalike as a cat and dog can be Killer the barn cat and brave Kate the Pyrenees Late one night Kate screamed toward the tree line round 3 or 4 o'clock She moved like a cheetah, growled like a bear, protecting the flock Then she stopped, befuddled, no coyotes to be seen It was just me and Marge, oh, having a go, all high on Dexedrine Unalike as a cat and dog can be Killer the barn cat and brave Kate the Pyrenees Killer looks after the chickens, if it's all the same His door tag on the old coop reads "Disinterest, Middle Name" We fixed him up with a heated pad, thermostatically controlled And he spends his lazy mornings gloating at us out in the cold Unalike as a cat and dog can be Killer the barn cat and brave Kate the Pyrenees We are convinced that come the Rapture, these two friends will be Called up to Heaven on an ox-drawn cart piled high with Timothy Kate barking hallelujah, with Killer on her back Thinking, “Sink this heavenly hullabaloo, I'm a cat, how ‘bout a snack?” Up on the ridge with Killer and Kate Kate protects the sheep and Killer wakes up late Unalike as a cat and dog can be Brave Kate the Pyrenees and Killer the epitome of a barn cat!
3.
MN Rt. 43 06:12
The sound of this guitar brought to you by Brandt's, Winona Make sure you tell whoever we've been here a hundred years, well, there you go Over by the river, a railroad bridge just ends in a bunch of trees I hope no old Wisconsin ghosts need to cross in any kind of hurry Coyotes cry just for a minute I dreamt that you were next to me in a hollow off the shoulder of Route 43 The flutter in my heart brought to you by driving fast through Rushford I almost blew a stop sign in my haste to get halfway to Mabel Permanence is old hat in New York but here it has the whiff of magic A dirt road in this vastness makes it feel like something’s gonna happen Coyotes cry just for a minute I dreamt that you were next to me in a hollow off the shoulder of Route 43 Dust, dust, dust Dust, dust, dust This peacefulness I feel brought to you by a thousand stars a-shinin' Clean sheets and a meal, and my thoughts, they get around to dyin’ The ghosts in these stark hills are real, and they’re multiplyin’ If you ain’t got a line to them, boy, you ain’t tryin’ And the coyotes cry just for a minute I dreamt that you were next to me in a hollow off the shoulder of Route 43 Dust, dust, dust
4.
Joie de You 03:18
Gazing down upon you, babe, from my bluff redoubt The sunshine seems to take my point of view I came up here to be alone with a bottle and a pack of smokes And I wound up with a different view of you I feel like laughing at myself for staring down at you But no one here would find it funny Your smile lights up and shames the sun and I know I'm the lucky one If only I could feel a bit less sorry for myself Cause I'd prefer to have an existential crisis I'd prefer to be conflicted and unsure I'm suspicious of this thing called joie de vivre But despite myself I've caught the joie de you Remember last November when the truck gave up and Chester died And I said I had to go to town to think Well of course you do, you see right through me every time I pack it up And try to fix my problems with a drink Lately I got 'round to thinkin' your faith in me through all the drinkin' Is worth a bit of changin' on my part I see the love behind your eyes, my love for you it never dies And I'm building a new house inside my heart It's got a strong foundation but no basement It's got a sturdy roof but no sneaky hiding places It's built so you and me to be on the level There's room enough for our love as it grows Well I'd prefer to have an existential crisis I'd prefer to be conflicted and unsure I'm still working of this thing called joie de vivre But I'm mighty sure I've caught the joie de you I'm fighting for the joie de me and you Before God and man this love is true
5.
My town to me is more than me It’s God’s own country, the smell of the pine trees Summer green Windows and crosses, self-control Holding my tongue, and then letting go Once in awhile They shouldn’t have changed this world But you can’t look back if you’re standing still So let’s go to the stone church and remember the past You all know that old stone church the one that’s built to last So let’s go to the stone church and celebrate the birth Of our town every morning born anew Free-fall from the Interstate into a different world With a smile and a sigh I go down I’m taking pains to stay the same but this land is changing me From downtown Houston all the way to New York City The trees are a constant, they change every day The town is the people, some move away Some come to stay The river hugs the land, sometimes too tight When I hear the flood, I think, we’ll be alright Cause we’re together They shouldn’t have changed this world But this world is ours to change So let’s go to the stone church and remember the past You all know that old stone church the one that’s built to last So let’s go to the stone church and celebrate the birth Of our town every morning born anew
6.
Kathy sees the storm post up the valley And she whistles to the left and to the right And she swings down the ladder to the jon boat And chokes the motor till it starts, alright The warnings cover all of Houston County And the river valley up to Lanesboro The porch at Crystal Creek it warps and windles And the trees sway ominously to and fro Without the flood we grow old Wither and die inevitable Tied up south of Rushford someone asks to borrow gas Tell her that she's pretty, scope her ass “I’d watch it sir,” she says “I'm valley-born, I ain't your pal And I swing like a Root River Gal” Kathy speeds downriver with the levee on her right Headed for the floodgates and a well-earned Hokah night With Kathy on the river and my baby next to me Got a feeling that we're gonna be alright Without the flood we grow old Wither and die inevitable
7.
John 06:21
When we quit pigs We had a lot more time We had a lot more space We had a few more dimes To rub together underneath the open sky I farm the valley Others farm the ridge This shelterin' valley Helped to raise my kids Now my daughter's moving back across the road Sunlight shines Down on the contour lines And we work and play through Bookmatched days and finished puzzle nights We used to milk We used to milk for pay But we never milked the big farms We didn't do it every day Now our milking days have surely passed us by Out in the pig shed I have got 12 saws Each with a purpose Single and precise This one roughs and this one cuts to size Crops aligned Along the contour lines And we work and play through Bookmatched days and finished puzzle nights When we quit pigs I tried to sell some things But selling work Ain't like raising living beings So I'm just my bovine brother’s keeper now And in my spare time After I birth the cows I mill my lumber And I set the pieces down This one matched with this by natural plan I'm not an artist I don't have that in me I read the grain It tells me what it wants to be And this whole forest is a staircase for my dear sweet daughter's brand-new home across the road Figure and grain Family and name And we work and play through Bookmatched days and finished puzzle nights Oh, John, we're not so different you and I It's just you're here Then I come by this weird songwriter guy
8.
I knew I crossed a line when I crossed the line into Houston County I recognized a special Tri-state feeling I can’t hope to understand But I’ll keep trying Whether I’m in Hokah or Mt. Kisco, Texarkana, Tonopah There’s a calculus of borders and the meaning we give lines upon the land Yesterday I drove past a quarry I had seen from the air Boy, these East Coast-types must seem so lame, saying “it’s different being there” Oh to be free in flyover country To take a step outside myself and find I’m firmly on the ground The people where I’m from, everyone wants to not be where they are I know things ain’t so different here but humor me, I’ve traveled very far Oh to be free in flyover country To take a step outside myself and find I’m firmly on the ground Saw a sign for Myrah, spun a vision of some occult prairie scene The things you take for granted in Spring Grove are all still secrets to me Oh to be free in God’s own country

about

This album came out of a trip I made to the rugged Driftless Area of the Upper Midwest, in July 2017. I was the very first citizen-artist-in-residence (CAIR) at a new interactive program in southeastern Minnesota. My headquarters was a hand-hewn cabin on the outskirts of Houston (pop. 979). During the program I hosted workshops, wandered around in my rental, toured a farm in the valley and had dinner at a farm on the ridge. I wrote “Flyover Country” the second day of the residency. “Old Stone Church” began as a collaborative exercise and was finished (mostly) before I left. “MN Rt. 43” lodged in my head on the titular road but didn’t find full expression until I was back in Brooklyn. Other songs took longer; for a year, “Spreadin’ that New York Money Around” was just a phrase I came up with while cruising down the baking midday streets of Winona. “John” I presented in early form, back in Houston, at the residency's Capstone event in April 2018. My friend Jay and I arrived there in a 1991 Ford Escort with a Grumman canoe strapped to the top, part of a cross-country trip I accompanied him on. Later we drove down the Mississippi towards St. Louis and left the bluffs, eagles and pelicans for the prairie, but that’s another set of songs. You get the picture.

LINKS
Crystal Creek Citizen-Artist Residency | crystalcreekcitizenartist.com
Houston Arts Resource Council | harcmn.webs.com
Southeastern Minnesota Arts Council | semac.org
Hardt’s Music | hardtsmusic.com

credits

released June 19, 2020

All songs written, recorded and mixed by Harry Kimball (Cavity Search/BMI) at Tennis Court Studios in Brooklyn, NY, unless noted otherwise
Mastered by Amy Dragon at Telegraph Mastering in Portland, OR
Artwork and design by Mike King

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Harry Kimball Peekskill, New York

Harry Kimball is a songwriter, singer, producer and multi-instrumentalist whose compositions carry a wistful melancholy tinged with dark humor. Kimball borrows John Prine’s sepia realism and Warren Zevon’s playful world-weariness, adding the lyrical density of Stephen Malkmus and the literary sensibilities of Bill Callahan. Follow Harry on Facebook + Instagram @ harrykimballsongs ... more

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