Your Wicked Man

by Donovan Quinn & The 13th Month

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1.
wintering in a windowless room at the end of the city proper it has a charm, an antique gloom well I'm through with puppy love the dirty rug and frying smells I'm told this is the first ring of Hell the bastard son become the man undone there are many, I am one no ones love, no ones heir I'm through with teenage kicks built my world on mud & sticks when I couldn't buy the bricks hard to laugh at 2 AM when you look into the eyes of your own best friend and he says 'hey whatever happened to you' holed up in my rented room I put my affairs in order but I need a friend in the government to see me through the border there is fire in the well here in the first ring of Hell lost in the twilight dim with the window shoppers I sometimes still think of you on the edge of the city proper with tenements in endless facsimiles slow traffic and barren trees
2.
Mom's House 02:30
mommas in the living room singing to the dog her voice is aquiver the moon it’s a sliver adrift in a sea of fog all night long I hear her song sparkle like the frost on the lawn then I’m gone
3.
the skies she liked best were blue-grey and barely there yet she conjured a storm in me so black and violent it scorched the air I resorted to conspiracy sorcery and deceit all December was bitter cold as we made our retreat. but is it true you no longer want your wicked man I woke before daybreak thought I’d try to run all I have before me now are headlights dulled by a rising sun in this moment of unknowing I welcome the Void and curse this empire of fantasy to which I’ve been employed watching the moon through her frilly curtain I once knew her hand. I cursed you, cut you, shut you out all to my own shame love is a voice in the street that used to call my name
4.
April Tenth 03:48
Woke late this afternoon Saw a sickle moon waxing There was mud on my slacks And you just lay there laughing. Sing hallelujah they've killed those sirens Everything I own for an hour of silence. Dear, lend me your comb. My feet can’t find the floor Nights dreams have turned to fever You'd matched me drink for drink All attending left believers I woke to a sickle moon waxing And the hero just lay there laughing. Sing hallelujah they've killed those sirens Everything I own for an hour of silence. Dear, lend me your comb. The hero pins her hair back And minds the kettle Her blouse lies on the floor Her towel hangs from my door In time your highs become taxing Saw a sickle moon waxing
5.
I need someone who understands What's wrong with these damned hands Every time I touch her face Takes all night to put her back in place. What's wrong with the dear girl? There are wet stones where her eyes were A distant cloud aloft She rains on me cold and soft. It has happened to stronger men You start off fine then a slow decline Maybe it's time for a new town. I worked a machine and so did mother Should never have left her arms that summer I shudder when recollecting The voice that begged, the voice that reckoned. No there's nothing for me here Wind howls in my empty ear and street fighting girls get me down Yes it's a rather poor affair The girls dropped me from her prayers It's a rip off and man I'm down Maybe it's time for a new town. This is neither Heaven nor Hell But rather a frail sea-worn shell Perhaps I shall go She asks "where would you go?"
6.
lying by a woman without her makeup on the morning sun doesn’t do her any favors “he’s one to talk” mocked the mirror to the clock mornings come returning us to our daily labors. I dreamt last night I lost my father’s coast in the pocket was the book I never wrote and when I awoke she lay there in the light a heroine of another book I’ll never write. lying with a woman with the sun in her face she says to me from a distant place “your wallets on the shelf, the door locks itself” morning comes turns the dust to glitter but it’s alright for a little while in the dusty light with a girl who doesn’t smile cos you couldn’t make her smile
7.
leave me no laughing photograph stray slip or lipstick stain leave me like you came. for up in the clouds, heavens cold clouds Lonesome Thunder it’s my nickname leave me like you came. I know it’s my shame, I know it’s my shame leave me no token of your local fame. leave me no chickenscratch heart scrawled on my dirty window pane leave me like you came. for down beneath the ground they’ll lay me down in the flame leave me like you came. it’s gonna be hard, so hard waking up tomorrow brought down in ruin unfathomable, ungodly sorrow
8.
Bridge traffic creeps forward In the Devil's motorcade Sylvia's got her amulet Cos Mercury's in retrograde. What I need is anything but clear It's lonesome even when she's here. Sylvia lights a match Says "this is our last one" Lays on her back Blowing smoke rings at the sun. It's lonesome even when she's here. The streets are full of finks Supplications and stony stares There's always some local gremlin Waiting to take you unawares They shout out for Sylvia Then sink back into their lairs. I tire of this obligatory cheer It's lonesome even when she's here. Sylvia swallows a pill And rights a stray curl Life under the new regime Has been rough on the girl. We'll make love like black marketeers Fall into ourselves until we disappear Give sacrifice to this bitch of a year God it's lonesome even when she's here
9.
Red Corona 03:29
I've been taking in the weather With the old men and stray hounds No longer want anything better No longer making the rounds. I'm never gonna go away. It's an ill lit room with no window I've carved your initials on my wall At night the pipes murmur to your merry widow Where your voice once filled the hall. I'm never gonna go away. The earth don't turn, this crow don't fly Saw a red corona in the sky. Sometimes I catch myself pining Dreaming of the mascara girls But truly the "nymphs are departed" With their silver hoops and plastic pearls. I'm never gonna go away. This earth don't turn, this crow don't fly Saw a red corona in the sky
10.
Open Flame 03:36
I’m in trouble again blowing at an open flame aint it a shame illumination never came. my girl don’t tarry although it feels like a sin we’ll never marry I’m giving in. my patron saint sought exile got sick of the wind and rain alone I must now reconcile the heavenly and earthly planes. by Monday the monies spent though I’ve been working again it’s fitting I can’t make rent in the room we lived in where your blanket still lies covers my body and shields my eyes sometimes it’s so heavy I feel I’ll never rise. you’ll leave and write letters I’ll drain you dram by dram till the new flesh turns to leather till the new flesh heals the damn. I wake up late but it feels like I don’t sleep it’s not what you took it’s what you left for me to keep I’m in trouble again blowing at an open flame and each time I do I call your name

about

With an enigmatic deadpan, Donovan Quinn delivers lyrics written in a dense and fragmentary style; the influence of writers such as Malcolm Lowry and Thomas Pynchon figure just as heavily on his craft as musical influences Robyn Hitchcock, Pavement, Robert Forster and Skip Spence.

Your Wicked Man is the second album from Donovan Quinn & the 13th Month, created in collaboration with Nick Marcantonio on bass and Jason Quever (Papercuts) as producer and multi-instrumentalist. In much the same way his presence molded Cass McCombs' early efforts, Quever's contributions to Your Wicked Man serve Quinn's narratives with arrangements that range from ornamental to rollicking to bare, pushing Quinn's embrace of rustic, poetic popcraft to the fore.

CD available from Shrimper.

credits

released August 3, 2010

Donovan Quinn: Guitar, Vocals
Jason Quever: Drums, Piano, Vocals, Cello, Guitar, Bass
Nick Marcantonio: Bass

Artwork by Jill Storthz

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Soft Abuse Minneapolis, Minnesota

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