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D​.​E​.​A. Fires

by John Thill

/
1.
The Indian blanket is cursed, I know But we sold it on the side of the road And the DEA Fires sing a song of dread All across the vacant homestead.
2.
Solar Hits 01:38
The rainbow arcs into a ditch of nettle As the van burns in the fern lined meadow And the solar hits Make the world shift Like those girls in peasant dresses as the smoke lifts And the earth brings us these new gifts As you ask, will she swallow, will she spit? orah orahay Oh lady of the changing shapes Help me remember how to dance in place
3.
In a place that smells like mildew where the bud will get you high Unfocused and rattled until the sun comes back in July When he starts thinking about quitting or enrolling at DeVry Been sleeping with a sorceress who's also a lesbian sometimes And every bout of laughter is also filled with lies And the dogs all wander aimless beyond the tripwire And now magic can't dispel the rumors that a raid is coming down And dawn is bowing out behind the mist and the cloud The bus is parked out in the dark beyond the ominous sounds The fire dims but the joint still makes its way around There's a cloverleaf pinned up to the tent that someone had found But even so the ground begins to shudder with those ominous Sounds
4.
The moonlight was cast across the poncho As he stood on the ridge to hear the sirens echo With the figure he cut I kept my mouth shut And let the short lived beauty sink in All the best laid plans Where you hide your camp They'll always find you in the end She thought of harbor light And barroom fights And the silence deep within the grow Then she thought about how the handcuffs felt cold Midnight firelight Midnight firelight I'm gonna watch it burn I'm gonna feel the light inside
5.
6.
D.E.A. Fires 03:27
She spent some time hand in hand with the covens of the damned Adrift on the coast like a splintered tree limb And the DEA fires they burn bright all across the startled midnight She ducked beneath the mesh when the helicopters threshes The leaves and whipped her dreads across her neck And her neck it smells like poplar stands And the dirt that's smeared across her hands We watched the fog climb like hands or a vine Across the mountain up into her eyes She says I can't quite seem to clear my head Since the sun's been gone, since the hear has fled And the trash by the side of the road Looks like someone I know The trash by the side of the road It looks like a man I know
7.
Informers 05:20
Hemp jewelry chafes the skin But not to wear it is a sin Windham Hill Records and the mushrooms I took Leave my body in the room Space echoes past lives and who we are George Winston piano chords Blue water Blue water Blue water Prairie hues Frozen in some solemn movie mood The informers laughed Beyond the eyes of flame Out where the darkness will not Speak their names At the high school reunion between cocktails They asked what became of you She went behind the waterfall Where nothing troubles you at all The streetlamps through the evening smog Or the ribbon of light behind the soundwall They're gone The informers laughed Beyond the eyes of flame Out where the darkness will not Speak their names And we warmed our hands on the DEA fires
8.
The Grow 02:59
How the mountains glow At the foot of the grow
9.
Pilgrims 04:28
Cream stucco and the gilt frames Like a choking hand A new name and trust fund check Peeling out from the drive With a baja and a rusted bus Headed up the five When dawn breaks across the redwood stump His hand shields him from the light A sleeping bag and a flashlight When they ring the bells at harvest time Mother earth nurture nature child Holds him through the night The pruning shears and the translucent deer Graze in the meadow light
10.
Weeds 04:38
Cashew drives in with a warning Says he's seen men following him Disguised as ravens on wing Karen too brings ominous tidings Of tumult and the great cycles end And whispers and words Of the cartels in the woods Willing to quietly bury all enemies And their are other deals yet to pay down And if I break or cry they'll say It's come due The boss' dreads Will lash like angry whips Strike down excuses from your lips Tied up in the back of the truck I find myself sick With love For the pine dotted hills And the dryland scrub The weeds the grow in the gullies Or down the fenceline Oh and we know that The secret of success lies Well off the main road Where you stray over the ridgeline The gravestones where the brambles overgrow In a vale that feels forgotten In silence with Guns held held like scepters High They call me pussy push me Into the weeds The only sound is the quiet warm country And the bird's full and gentle tone The weeds grow on With the generators song

about

Bridgetown #74
C37 cassette tape
Edition of 100

A veteran of the California and North Carolina DIY scene, John Thill's recorded output over the past decade was crucial to the development of a contemporary form of underground folk music that is immediately relatable to our current generation. A staple of the home-taper underground, Thill's extensive discography features dozens of off-kilter concept albums on seminal labels such as the legendary Shrimper Records (Woods, The Mountain Goats, Amps for Christ, Wckr Spgt), Not Not Fun (as Quem Quaeritis) and Unread Records (Simon Joyner, Charlie McAlister) before touring the USA with Abe Vigoda in 2007 and disappearing into the Napa Valley just a few years later.
John Thill's dark and comic obsession with traffic, smog, strip malls, pop radio, subcultures and other daily trivialities are crucial ingredients to his dystopian, comedic tales about painfully real characters that have invaded his life ranging from cholos, mall goths, speed freaks, sluts and middle class white guys who hate their jobs. Figments of his imagination and true reality blur together within the outlandishly plausible settings he conjures such as a post-apocalyptic Los Angeles when gasoline supplies are dried up, and these characters become all too real within the context of his poetic narratives.

D.E.A. Fires is Thill's first full-length written since his departure from Southern California, and continues his legacy of blending high-brow concept art with bad ideas that have been taken just far enough to still be flawlessly executed. The 10 song album satirizes the laidback culture of illicit farmers in Northern California, ponchos as a fashion statement, psychedelic mysticism and hippie lifestyle with lyrical aplomb. In classic Thill form, his exuberant vocals hush, bellow and snarl over graceful chords and subtle ringing harmonics strummed from an abused classical guitar.

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released May 27, 2012

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Bridgetown Records Los Angeles, California

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