Church of the Kitchen Sink - LP

by James O'Brien

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1.
After the Prom 05:14
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In the weird dark 1980s, in the basement of my school they showed us nature movies on sixteen-millimeter spools unfurling with a crackle and a whirring of the wheels salmon eggs and silverbacks cut through water white as steel I watched with my breath bated, bewildered by the speed while they thrashed and broke in the river which ones died, which ones would breed these days it’s much the same thing OK, it’s a slightly different show which way from here is upstream, which way should we go Little anthem, little children, little bomb I’ll meet you behind the gym after the prom Heartbeats being heartbeats, they served us back the war after summer dinners, in suburban living rooms my dad said, “Son, for you an early bed tonight I don’t want for you to see this, and what’s good ain’t always right” I lay there in the darkness, my lungs twin purple cages, needing more than oxygen for my dad to be courageous. less than a decade later, in a senior high school classroom, watching The Day After, at last I could forgive him Little anthem, little children, little bomb I’ll meet you behind the gym after the prom The grand jury’s in discovery, and they’re choking on the burden of proof if the glove fits you must convict, when’s the last time that was the truth now, I’m going to the tribunal; I’m trading in my gown I’ll trading my diploma; I’m getting out of town ‘cause I crouch still in my hallway like it’s a basement or a bed forget the mushroom clouds over Kansas, a 747 is over your head. it’s this critical fork in the junction, baby, some of us will got caught I know it doesn’t matter, but this is what I got Little anthem, little children, little bomb I’ll meet you behind the gym after the prom Little anthem, little children, little bomb I’ll meet you behind the gym after the prom I’ll meet you behind the gym after the prom
2.
Black Helicopters 04:14
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When they took him to the Temple Mount they said, “Even Jesus Christ doesn’t walk around with his pants around his ankles and his thorny crown strapped up across two biceps, he don’t make much sound” so they strung him up amongst three thieves said, “Come the holy morning, ye shall believe and if the cobra comes with his venom sack watch ye his spittle and don’t look back” Now, in the dusty a desert a half-buried jawbone sings out this story in low and solemn tones says, “I know you stole it, stole it fair and square they were waiting in line, but you did not care with your sudden sidewalk sawhorse and your mobile phones you said, “Go each of you niggers now back to your homes this is our election, not served by your vote it’s the army, the navy, the holy ghost” and in the dusty desert a nervous jawbone sings a symphony of crackles and FM poems Black helicopters black helicopters black helicopters what if this was real In the city of martyrs, the temple of JFK where the Zapruder film plays over and over all day on a hill over there, a shadow rises it’s the U.S. phantom, you’d better beware and on the grassy knoll, at the hour of noon a little lawn sign reads, “No trolls” Under the bridge, in a plain black suit a CIA agent plays his Pan-like flute to which are drawn the congressmen and senators in their long, sleek, black, quiet cars well, drive your fifty-eight Chevy in the waiting wash leave your date to drown, swim for the shore while in the dusty desert a nervous jawbone sings a symphony of crackles and FM poems Black helicopters black helicopters black helicopters what if this was real black helicopters black helicopters black helicopters what if this was real Back on the Temple Mount, they said, “You ain’t Christ this is the wrong place, but we won’t tell” so the doctor skeetered, the doctor skedaddled the doctor flew in, he was looking quite addled with his hypodermic needle that he shoved in deep he said, “Tell us, Tim, does it feel like sleep” Tim said, “I was Timothy then, I may be Timothy later as for Timothy now, I think he’s starting to fade here” the doctor took his pulse, said, “OK, he’s gone you can turn your television sets back on for the satellite uplink of the graveyard feed you thought vengeance was hard, but we’ve shown you it’s easy” the un-voted watched, said, “They’ll kill their own are we richer or poorer now that this is done” the un-voted watched, said, “They’ll kill their own are we richer or poorer now that this is done” and in the dusty desert a nervous jawbone sings a symphony of crackles and FM poems Black helicopters black helicopters black helicopters what if this was real black helicopters black helicopters black helicopters what if this was real real real
3.
Anthrax 05:34
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These days I want to slice like a knife these days I want to bruise like a billy club kick you in the cherry red of your slick dark liver I want to take a walk and talk to no one confer with spirits, lose my shit and run do the double-decker dance with both barrels loaded I want to wrap myself in a rug of gold I want to sell you what has never been sold I’ll tell you a riddle, say what you told me’s the answer All right, I give in I’m gonna slink down to the banks of that dirty flowing river all right, I give in I’m gonna dance like the Devil in the rising dust These days I hurt myself so I can sleep I sit in the dark and just breathe, breathe, breathe I sink into the copper blue of my failing vision I only want to read what I’ve already read I only want to say what I’ve already said I want to wrap it all up and mail it to a politician I want to be a cop and bust you once I want to see your hand and trump you chump I want to blow my load and not have to wipe I don’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s right I’m a creature of nothing, I move in the night I come up for air at the space at the back of your mind All right, I give in I’m gonna slink down to the banks of that dirty flowing river all right, I give in I’m gonna dance like the Devil in the rising dust I am driven to do this, now day after day, somehow I’ve got nothing to say, and how so, if anyone’s brave tonight they can come up on stage tonight write their named on my page tonight as a record and a promise said, if anyone’s brave tonight they can come up on stage tonight write their named on my page tonight as a record and a promise All right, I give in I’m gonna slink down to the banks of that dirty flowing river all right, I give in I’m gonna dance like the Devil in the rising dust all right, I give in I’m gonna slink down to the banks of that dirty flowing river all right, I give in I’m gonna dance like the Devil in the rising dust
4.
Sweet Water 03:15
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My heroes so far are the people you’d term unpredictable, difficult, and dirty well, swinging bad punch drunks and crooked rum poets stagger rough through this world that keeps turning but, babe, if you’d come to my door I’d grace your lips with cool mint and green clover you’re not bad, I’m half good let’s throw open this hood forget this engine, I’ll flag down a rocket well put it neutral, oh, babe, it’ll roll still you’re waving, you’re saying my name and Oswald pockets his change and takes aim goodbye Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy don’t go down in that sweet water, baby lordy, lordy, lordy without me I took my song to the song man crouching low with his bone and his princes played it loud for the ghosts and frustrations, gas stations squat, yellow, luminescent well, the moon took last stabs at the lions, the cancers, the bears the song man emptied his glass in his ears he said, “Nothing, nice going, don’t hear it, I’m sorry did you make the reservation” Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy don’t go down in that sweet water oh, lordy, lordy, lordy without me Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy don’t go down in that sweet water, baby lordy, lordy, lordy without me The highway’s a mark of the beast from the air silver specks crawl the black lines of all the symbols down there they’re my heroes in the darkness they share with their tires and wheels and their patch cords and fears they’re the holy companions of travel and the link from the well to the river and if you know that sweet water drink deep, you do not have to stay here Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy don’t go down in that sweet water oh, lordy, lordy, lordy without me Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy don’t go down in that sweet water, baby lordy, lordy, lordy without me
5.
Paint 03:28
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I used to paint most every afternoon just a brush, a few tubes, a little canvas I’d spread what it was I had around to see what formed from the messes I made you said, “Paint, that stuff is poison like lead, like lye, like mercury get it on your hands, it’ll could do some damage” I said, “Well, that explains a few things but since we’re talking about paint and poison would you like to get a cup of coffee” I just paint I used to watch you for hours in your noise and your color and light it was like you swallowed a chunk of the tongue of God which hit your belly, then your fingers, then your teeth. you said, “My belly, well mostly it feels empty, and my fingers have started to bleed my teeth could crack at almost any moment I don’t know what it is that I want, or what I need” I just paint Now, like God, this will demand a conversion strip you bare, make you say what it is you’re scared of like God, this will certainly divide you from what you think and what you love so you sit and sip your coffee you consider the blackness of your cup you said, “Paint, I thought you were a singer now all this talk of canvas and God” I said, “Song, that stuff is poison; link absinthe, like LSD get it in your head, it’ll do some damage as for me I just paint I just paint I just paint
6.
Clean 04:29
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Sometimes it gets so hard my head starts spinning around without destination, I drift downtown drink something brown, drink something clear tinkle through bead curtain, backlit, blue-lit room lion-like gypsy at the other end says, “Come in, we’ve been expecting you” she fans a ray of cards, all jokers and hearts says, “Start talking, know your future” I would do anything to be clean and have you around me I would do anything to be free and have no memory Most days I worry about caffeine, fear she narrows her eyes and says, “Well, you’re not from around here” I worry whether my truck will start, most mornings I worry about whether she’ll be on the other end of the telephone at the next rest stop I worry about time signatures, couplets, and free verse she shows me a knee, she shows me a thigh she says, “Try this first” I would do anything to be clean and have you around me I would do anything to be free and have no memory I can’t force it, and when I fuck up, I hope you’re around she squeezes my temples between two fists says, “Hush, hush, don’t you make a … make a sound” I live my life from stage to stage like pages in some phantom book I spend all my time writing and revising, but when I look I see thumbprints, I see thumbprints, I see thumbprints I see thumbprints, I see thumbprints, I see thumbprints I would do anything to be clean and have you around me I would do anything to be free and have no memory I would do anything to be clean and have you around me I would do anything to be free and have no memory memory memory
7.
Same Old World 04:52
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Oh, how I thought it was unfair you illustrated I’d done the same I coughed up my medicine again now, tie a yellow ribbon baby, I wanna come home you said, “There’s no home here, keep walking, I’ll see ya” what about all those letters you know, I just about lost my mind you said, “Words are duct tape in a burning engine” This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got I blanked out, I passed out I’d have poisoned anything living I wrote words in the dark in ink black from my heart, “Death comes like a cousin” now, don’t you think I paid my dues I don’t need no salt in the pepper-wound from you I got scar tissue it’s white, it’s ugly, but it’s mine and it’s healing I know you got your piece to say so, have at it, then get away there’s a puddle where your feet were we wanna start sweeping This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got Every time the weather gets cold it brings back days of old, I know just because there’s a bottle, baby don’t mean it’s there for drinking what’s bought cannot be sold what’s silver can never be gold the antique shop’s closed the china’s clinking in the earthquake hey, we fool ourselves like mice we think, this time the cat’ll be nice that cheese is laced that horse is paste it’s the same old world, I’m sorry This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got This air’s too thick to breathe baby, let me swallow what I got let me swallow what I got
8.
Mourning Day 04:08
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I drove the New Jersey Turnpike, September thirteen the rain fell like a sacrament, the air was still unclean we stared from our economies, our utilities, my old truck the pistons in the engine rattled, “Go on, good luck” while the pontiff on the radio was trying not jam with the president on the pulpit working up his own scam The carpetbaggers dance a jig while the poets thumb their nose you’ve got to keep your heart together, here don’t stray far from the road The computers all were working that cold November day when the black suits came to reference with orders from the DA they fanned out through the aisles rumbling, “Dark and troubled times” they took diaries, they took notebooks, they took monographs and tapes they took stock reports and leaflets, they took manuals, they took maps they said, “Go home, stay indoors, don’t log on, don’t take this rap” The carpetbaggers dance a jig while the poets thumb their nose you’ve got to keep your heart together, here don’t stray far from the road A poet sends an email from the heart of Somerville it says, “I’ve been leaving for a long time, this time I think I will I’m giving one last reading at the corner of Harvard and Brighton then I’m flying out of America, which is killing me like a poison” The carpetbaggers dance a jig while the poets thumb their nose you’ve got to keep your heart together, here don’t stray far from the road the carpetbaggers dance a jig while the poets thumb their nose you’ve got to keep your heart together, here don’t stray far from the road don’t stray far from the road
9.
Church of the Kitchen Sink 04:36
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Lay down your alms at the altar of Joseph and Dee Dee Ramone light a votive; the lowest common denominator is dearest, here in the church of the kitchen sink in the church of the kitchen sink we have many things in common, we agree to disappear we have questions, we question motives of all the blackbirds singing here this is the juice of the oldest orchard this is the fruit, this is the lamb. I could feed you, you could feed me, but the hatchet-man hacked off our hands I feel closer to you I feel closer to you I feel closer I feel closer to you I feel closer to you I feel closer I grew up in front of a family of four hundred and twenty nine who never came together, they’d visit in twelves and only some of the time I wonder if they’d know me, gathered in one place  every sister, lover, mother and brother, father and cousin and friend with diaries and with notebooks, with memory and with tape would dozenth version show a different guy with a similar face I feel closer to you I feel closer to you I feel closer I feel closer to you I feel closer to you I feel closer Do you remember those days on the radio do you remember those days in your car when everything seemed very local, baby, nothing felt very far those were the days we ran like a wild pack the days we broadcast like stars and the big dish receivers read every signal the scientists resurrected microbes from Mars the walls cooled down the Internet hummed and we flickered at each other we coupled transistor brilliant we ate from each other’s fingers there was no spongifora we were barely vegetarian we were barely out of the garden we were waiting for our messiah we were open to invention in the church of the kitchen sink in the church of the kitchen sink in the church of the kitchen sink in the church of the kitchen sink in the church of the kitchen sink
10.
Sleep 04:16
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The cathedral of Christ in Bethlehem the twenty-first century’s Custer’s last stand sometimes I think I’ll never sleep again swirling and chugging ’til four a.m. sleep is a dream of school desks in the desert lined up like classrooms under the shimmering sun girls scribble contracts, boys straddle camels with guns I wake with a start, I think my fingers are broken I buy my train tokens in Grand Central Station I know, don’t be slow Speak, don’t talk to me in tongues it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone too long My mind is a Stonehenge up, up in the highlands nobody knows who built it or really what for I dive for the floor when planes fly low over my house that’s conditioned behavior, I read about it in college oh, peace is a drug dripping on me like morphine it’s cold and it’s numb, it’s addictive without it, I open my mail, I think about anthrax I wake with a start, I think my fingers are broken I buy my train tokens in Grand Central Station I know, don’t be slow Speak, don’t talk to me in tongues it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone too long That shelf to the south that broke free from the ice pack shuffled the bulk of Antarctic and slipped to the sound to vanish in waters too warm for its surface melting its volume by cubits and meters that is a trick that I think that we’d like to know well, maybe it’s free from its history’s burden four million years of baggage unfrozen Jack Nicholson did that in Five Easy Pieces I wake with a start, I think my fingers are broken I buy my train tokens in Grand Central Station I know, don’t be slow Speak, don’t talk to me in tongues it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone too long speak, don’t talk to me in tongues it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone too long it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone it’s only sleep, I won’t be gone too long
11.
The War Has Come 05:58
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Rich white American children come from the suburbs and go to a college where they learn a second language, sometimes the language is a dead one it does not bother them other American children come from the city and join an army where they’re certified to kill or heal, if they fail at either they come home dead it does not bother them sometimes I can’t believe these things I write, I write down anything pulling songs from the mouth of unbelieving, it’s only words it does not bother me it’s easy to write a bullet, it does not hiss, it is not close to me it’s easy to write a wound, I’ve never clamped a femoral artery Hey, hey, hey, the war has come hey, hey, hey, the war has come Some days I see a cop, I think I’d make a good officer some days I see you on the street, I’m glad I’m not a cop and this ain’t my beat some nights I sleep in my truck, I want a handgun in my glove compartment some nights you make a noise, thank God there’s no handgun in our apartment Hey, hey, hey, the war has come hey, hey, hey, the war has come Ever since this started, I’ve wanted someone to get it over with give me the bite or the bug or the bomb, or the backbone to drive a plane into the ground some folks I know have fled to places like France or Australia they’re the vanguards of an exodus or they’re rabbits pissing, running scared well, all I’ve got’s these four chords and the mercy that you’ve granted me I wanna show you something true, the truth’s the ugliest kid you’ll ever see Hey, hey, hey, the war has come hey, hey, hey, the war has come the war has come the war has come the war has come the war has come

credits

released October 25, 2003

All songs written by James O'Brien

Guitar and vocals: James O'Brien
Drums: Dylan Callahan
Bass: Justin Day
Keyboards: Rob Laurens
Lead guitar: Jordan Tishler
Vocals: Karaugh Brown, Merle Perkins, Kevin Smith, Haly Boviard, Skylar Fox, Allie Glickman, David Gore, Ayelet Malinksy, Emily Paley

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James O'Brien New York, New York

James O’Brien toured the U.S. and the U.K. from 1998–2004 playing politically aware songs, sometimes solo and sometimes with a band, sharing billings with artists such as Hamell on Trial, Dan Bern, Michael McDermott, John Sinclair, Bill Miller and Freedy Johnson.

In 2017, after a 13-year hiatus, he began to release archival and new material, expanding his catalog to fourteen albums as of 2022. ... more

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