by Call Hollow

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« Choose a country, a more or less populated city, a more or less busy street. Build a house. Furnish it. Choose the season and time of day. Bring together the most suitable people, with appropriate records and drinks. The lighting and the conversation should be obviously suited to the occasion, as should be the weather and your memories. If there has been no error in your calculations, the result should satisfy you. » [G.D.]



released September 18, 2014

Recorded at home in New York, Northern California, North Yorkshire, and Colorado. Mastered by Johnny Goss at Dandelion Gold in Seattle. Photos by James Meakim. Layout by Katrina Zerilli.

in loving memory of Tarnation


Whprwhil Records (WPRL 011)



all rights reserved


Call Hollow Denver, Colorado

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how does one avoid idle talk of snow
and raising glasses to dead men
who hadnt had much to say when their own blood flowed?

down by the water now
down where the house you were born burnt down
theres a wall meant to keep us out
theres the rattle of a train gone south toward jersey
holding hands with the oil black sea

its gonna keep us company
straight through day

and you can swear on a stack of gideons
that youll never come back but the pity is
come spring that dream will have gone to seed
and youll be holding fast to the oil black sea
not tryna pull the tail out of the serpents mouth
i dont know that it would do much anyhow

ive been gone too long now to see the way ive come
not tryna follow the sun into the ocean
ive been gone too long

now im not one to palaver about spirits in the woods
but its hard to feel like something wasnt following us
when we pulled off ninety miles south of mount hood
and the autumn air was sulphurous

ive been gone too long now to see the way ive come
not tryna find a song to fit the moment
ive been gone too long
once there was a god
and he built himself a clock
from a drifting pebble of granite rock
he blew a bit of spittle in the plasma stock
and set it spinning like a quarter on a tabletop

well blow me down
get right out of town

lets recite a little prufrock on your landlords bed
and talk about dying
lets tie a double windsor in a looking glass
and talk about dying
lets heat up the kerosene until it rattles the pan
and talk about dying
lets do it till were done & it needs doing again
and talk about dying

nothing dries quicker than a tear, he said
looking up from a travel guide to the upside
dont go gettin misty eyed mister
i dont mind a little bit of silt if i get a little wine

take the scarecrow down
get right out of town
shimmy down the ladder
scurry up the vine
its time

burrow down deeper
head for warmer climes
the will of the world is alight

way down below the water
thats where youll find the boy

shiver under autumns ornery bellow
wriggle in the cicada skin that youve outgrown
if you want to go to ossining but you aint got the fare
just walk east with that gurgling child
the sea will send you there

weighed down below the water
thats where youll find the boy

dry all the bones in a kiln
my world will be still
you keep your rack and ruin
you keep your plastic spoon
sheriff lights shine down like an arizona moon

the rattlesnake sleeps but not the quail
you took your last meal at the debtors jail

you sleep with a knife
you cant expect the sky to hold up all night

you drain the reservoir
through the gunpowder
and gather all the boys around to drink the steely water

you cant sing that rag into a gown
you cant fill the casket up with sound

you sleep with a knife
you cant expect the sky to hold up all night
i can see you now
mingled with the ordinary men of burnettown
theyre smoking filtered marlboros
and packing their own shells
their fathers built these highways
then they died and passed em down

but you are just a tourist
youve picked up on the dialect
theres money in your pocket
but you know theyre gonna turn you out
you would holler murder but the vacant town too loud

i dream of our old house
you get me in your blue camaro to help you burn it down
the prowler howls are doppling
up and down the palisades
we get as far as gilbert
till you think it safe to pray

you come into your own
Track Name: RUM PLUS ONE
corduroy wool & mohair
christmas is in the air
theres a pub down in kings square
you want to stick yourself in there
because the islay will loosen the tightening
and the fire looks so inviting
and december is yours to waste
dayspring, stay

if the cold gets into your marrow
its nobodys fault but your own
if youre loved then you oughta be thankful
even if you cant always feel it in your bones
but i dont have it in me
to do the things i ought
dayspring, deliver me up
when the sun sets on that land you left
dont get it in your head to make your pilgrimage
that day is done now
and there will come another one
and everything you think you want to find is gone

and i have seen the turning
the way folks gather round a house to watch it burning
youre swimming out to shadows in the offing
meanwhile the sea keeps on churning

once i was an infant and i woke up in my crib
looked around and turned to face the wall again
i felt the weight then
and ive felt it ever since
the milk of human kindness left me weak and thin

yes, i have seen the turning
the way folks crowd around a house to watch it burning
youre swimming out to shadows in the offing
meanwhile the sea...

lay your sweater on the radiator
when you wake up itll be dry
i know its cold and you want to go home
but the snows not like to let up tonight

my old friend, when my own sun finally sets
dont doll me up and dress me in my sunday best
just lay your head down
on my memorial bench
and think on all the days we did and didnt spend
whistle past the house on stanley road
garnerville holds still as the world wheels
and whirls around the pole
cicadas sleeping soundly in the trees
lampyridae will shine on through the endless evening

and i can hear that beetle tapping on the ceiling
open up that window there & let me see where i am heading
hi-tor is lit up like a christmas tree
and i can hear you holler down through the years to me

a memento mori
the story hasnt changed but needs retelling all the same
know theres no glory in sulkily ignoring it
the blessing is a windfall but we count it like a wage
at the end of a doldrous day

is this where i found you?
is this where i found you, calling through the years unlived?