When the Devil comes
It’s with red walls and mud
The roads become of desert
She fills the air with oil and gnashing teeth

The Devil comes into our dreams, and our homes, and our minds
And smiles
Until we scream and our mouths disappear

Seventh Hymnal

Noonday

Donate

Seven came before, and seven remain – each the individual cry of a moor creature. Each the rapture from the mouth of a lost, salting soul. Each the stricken chord of a swamp thing’s eulogy. Each a plague.

First, the beautiful bodies flow down the bayou (1)
Passing by the grieving mothers and their petulant king (2)
A hungry, decrepit willow tree seizes at the memories of the corpses as they pass, swallowing their lives’ echos (3) 
The sirens with their red, leaking tales tie their voices around the throats of all the remaining men who seek them out with ardor in their eyes – pulling them into their salty, tidal bosoms (4)
The Devil watches with keen eyes and a taunting tongue and stuffs our mouths with mud (5)
Murder is whispered on the breeze, and children listen with bright eyes to the old wise women on the hill (6)
Before finally, our seventh, our goddess, glittering with gold and dripping with honey, covers us with her branches, lovingly, and rains her fury down upon us. And we drink from her tears for we are the Daughters of the Sky (7)

Hear our Seventh Hymnal.

Chapel Hill

Red Drum Skin

Willow Tree

Little Death

Bayou

I close my eyes
I feel the sunlight 
Through these fragile veils 

Pretty colored things 
Whisper on the breeze
There's been a murder on Chapel Hill

I close my eyes
I feel the sunlight 
Through these fragile veils 

Pretty colored things 
Whisper on the breeze
There's been a murder on Chapel Hill

I close my eyes
I feel the sunlight 
Through these fragile veils 

Pretty colored things 
Whisper on the breeze
There's been a murder on Chapel Hill

Come little children 
Come sweet dears 
Come little children 
Don't fear 
Don't fear 

I close my eyes
I feel the sunlight 
Through these fragile veils 

Pretty colored things 
Whisper on the breeze
There's been a murder on Chapel Hill

Come little children 
Come sweet dears 
Come little children 
Don't fear 
Don't fear 

I hear them whisper on the breeze
I hear them whisper on the summer day
I hear them whisper pretty children 
Don't stray off the path
Just stay the course 
I promise that I'll lead the way

I hear them whisper on the breeze
I hear them whisper on the summer day
I hear them whisper pretty children 
Don't stray off the path
Just stay the course 
I promise that I'll lead the way 

I close my eyes 
I feel the sunlight

A culmination of our honed gothic witch-rock sound featuring melodic vocal harmonies, steel-body slide guitar and haunting violin.

Black Waters

49 Burning Condors is a gothic witch rock band based out of Philadelphia, PA made up of a hodgepodge of souls: Kimber Dulin (vocalist + lyricist), Christopher Michael(guitarist), Andriana Markano (violin), Zach Rinck (bassist) and Kat Wilson (drums).

We thrive off the myths of malefic witches, lustful gods, and unholy ghosts bound to the Swamp, slithering with its snakes, home and grave to human and beast alike. 

Our style mirrors the fables passed down –  tongue to tongue and ear to ear -- becoming more twisted and ruinous with every passing listen, with every gulp of whiskey around the fire. 

Inspired by the storytelling techniques of Tom Waits, the deep, rolling lulls of Johnny Cash, and the otherworldliness of Karen Elson and Chelsea Wolfe, our music is meant to fracture reality with songs that each feel like their own horror — rotting with love.

49 Burning Condors

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