Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams

by the Crow Quill Night Owls

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  • Immediate download of 24-track album in the high-quality format of your choice (MP3, FLAC, and more), plus unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

    there's also a slew of other goodies in the download. a Comic, Tin Typ Photography, album art and the rubber stamp disc art by Alex used in the first 250 physical copies of this Album.

     $10 USD  or more

     

1.
2.
03:44
3.
03:12
4.
5.
00:21
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7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
00:24
12.
13.
00:16
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00:47
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24.

about

this album was recorded in a few different chunks.
we started in the summer of 2012 when our friends Itchy Ribs Robinson from Tuba skiny, and Jerron Paxton from New York were in town.
we recorded with them and then picked it up again in may of 2013.
many hours and sleepless nights of recording, mixing, drawling and juggling a multitude of in-between things went into this recording.

all tracks recorded by George Rezendez at toolshedsoundlab.Com
except tracks 1, & 21 recorded by Jarrod Paul Bramson at bitch ain't nuthin' but a word to me studios, and track 12 recorded at Rag-o-phonic Records by Stymee.

included in this download is all the album artwork, a 1 page comic by Stymee, a tin typ photograph of us by Dinah DiNova, and the original rubber stamp cd art used for the first 250 copies of this album.
cheers folks!
~Stymee

credits

released 24 May 2013

Kit "Stymee" Stovepipe ~ National Resophonic Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals, Washboard, Kazoo, Wash tub Bass, Tenor Banjo, & Jug.

Windy City Alex ~ Tenor Banjo, Vocals, Banjo-lele, & Kazoo.

Baylin Adaheer ~ Wash tub Bass, Vocal Acc., Kazoo, & Banjo-lele.

Too Tight Devin Champlin ~ Mandolinetto, Fiddle, & Vocal Acc.

Lucas Hicks ~ Suitcase Percussion, Washboard, Spoons & Bones.

Itchy Ribs Robinson ~ Washboard Syncopations.

Jerron Paxton ~ Piano & Pants.

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about

the Crow Quill Night Owls Port Townsend, Washington

the Crow Quill Night Owls are a band that plays jug band, jazz, and string band music of the 1920's and 1930's.
they were formed in 2007 by guitarist Kit "Stymee" Stovepipe and tenor banjoist Windy City Alex. they've since added Baylin Adahere on washtub bass.
the group fluctuates from a duo to a six person band and often features members of other bands in similar genres.
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Track Name: I Grabbed That Chicken From The Pan
well I grabbed that chicken from the pan and put it to my mouth in wonder
burnt my lips on those eels hips because I could not stave my hunger

I got chicken grease in my blistered beard, shunned by my community they think Im weird. it's the antithesis of the sum of the squeerd but I don't know what Im talking about.

well my central nervous system's like an oyster plugged in, absinth retina, purple electric skin, all my records spin at 78 rpm they wont hire me for public relations.

cause I dance on the moon wearing yellow shoes with my polka dot pajamas on
photo synthesis, broken string theory blues all my molecules of reason gone.

Im like a mad scientist with no test tubes, no one to help me dig up graves.
my parallel universe's split in two and then got multiplied by a broken calculator.

now these sideways buildings spit and cuss at me as they lean with open jaws.
..and I wring my hands as I quicken pace. my collaborations pause.

I found myself crawling through the junkyard graves of the forgotten and the yet to come.
where kaleidoscopic voices fade in landfills of elysium.
where the skeletons sickly notes ring out from their harps in steam, and the boiling breath burns sickly sweet from the barcode machine.

where the nightmare landscape bends and twists as the sky grows dim, and malevolent infinity grinds to oblivion.

through the guillotines of garbage foul and the chopping blocks of day I heard the distant dying embers of a thousand voices say.

"Oh honey child, you've got much to learn. that sun it shines so bright but it also burns". staring at that holy fire through the blood stains and scars, and the tumbleweeds of broken bones and repossessed cars,

well my body shook like a thousand worms all electrified with light... and I traveled on in search of hope through the seething rancid night.
for 13 days I wandered on through a labyrinth cluttered high. broken clocks, worn out socks, and refuse brittle dry.

broken ladders, broken lamps, fuse box cinders, worn out amps, radios with no receivers, slot machines with broken leavers

I I slipped in old food, I skidded in slime, got tangled up in shower curtains of grime,
barbed wire seemed to cling to my cloths, I got terribly sick and my heart became closed,
and the icy winds blew through my bones till I wished that I could die,
and the halo of buzzards could smell defeat in the crematorium sky,
and a rusty tear streaked my sooted face from out a bloodshot eye, and there was only one thing left that I could do.
.............
.................
......................
everyone in this town is half asleep but they're walkin' round, and the universe gets so grotesque, you can spin your wheels while you try your best, and if you think too hard... you feel just like the shadows of an old graveyard, where you can lose your mind in the dark where you're forever crying.

it's not hard to get delusional. when you see this wold as usual.
and it's garbage in, and garbage out and it's the next big thing that people talk about,
and salvation seems like a distant star, you feel just like a detective in a old film noir who's strong but has his heart in the pan that is always frying.
.....
........
............
so I grabbed that chicken from the pan and put it to my mouth in wonder
burnt my lips on those eels hips because I could not stave my hunger

I got chicken grease runnin' down my spine, walkin' crooked down the line.
like a cat on a fence, balanced in ragtime, had to leave everything that I knew behind.
and the only thing I know left to do is just. skeep bap beedle am skee ba beedle am
seep skap skeedle um skoo.