Get all 29 Walter Ehresman releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of That's How A Fable Starts (single), Cassandra, Cursed, My Back Pages, Revisited (With No Blonde), Songs From the Crux, Global Search Party, South of the Wall, The Best of.....Songs of Possibilities, The Best of..........the Weird Ones, and 21 more.
1. |
8-String Blackout
04:32
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8-String Blackout
(© 2023 Walter Ehresman)
It was an 8-string blackout;
We were jammin’ when the currency failed;
Young Byron said we best not go out—
or we could so-quick end up dead or in jail.
It was a 4-fella freak-out;
Feeling lost without our throbbin’ bassline;
Heard the tanks dance in the roundabout,
and saw militia form blood-red conga-line.
[chorus]
Ain’t got no dacha in Kinshasa when you write the kind of music we do;
You gotta catch it where you can—out on the streets or rockin’ in Timbuktu.
Ain’t got no dacha in Kinshasa when you play the kind of music we do;
You gotta catch it where you can—out on the streets or rockin’ in Timbuktu.
And then it got too dark to see out;
But the megaphones still ripped through the air;
Young Byron said it was a rout,
but neither side don’t want no music in there.
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2. |
These Strings
04:26
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These Strings
(© 2023 Walter Ehresman)
We all want personal autonomy
--control our actions in the “now’;
Holding fast in each calamity
--looking forward still somehow.
No one perched above the stage
--slyly pulling on our strings;
No one writing on our page
--trying to tell us when to sing.
And so we go and flow, although tempo is slow as we bestow these changes--on ourselves;
And try to hide the scars inside, as we deride the glorified outrages
--that we tell.
[chorus]
What to do with these strings?
I’m so vigilant to keep them off of my back;
Now I can’t see a thing,
but I feel them stretching backwards into my past;
What to do with these strings? What to do with these strings? What to do with these strings?
Just play.
I tell you that I will always be
--here with you in the “now”;
And I’ll never stop my work on me
--‘cause you deserve no lesser vow.
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3. |
If I Say It, She Will Go
05:08
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If I Say It, She Will Go
(© 2022 Walter Ehresman)
She was raised to keep her heart atop a pinnacle with unscalable sides;
They said “We work—unending—and the motion cloaks the things we feel inside”;
But in that cruel inheritance, the world can see her instinct to be kind;
And quietly she grows a caring legacy that leaves herself behind.
And I knew that I could love her when I saw the girl beneath the public face;
She gifted me with glimpses that would glow and then recede without a trace;
And in those painful absences, years pass by and I try hard to know
if there is a place for me up there where no one is allowed to go.
And I feel that distance, as I signal from below;
And I feel her resistance to the ways a love can grow.
Communication is the lifeblood, we all know;
But with so much to say—if I say it, she will go.
I know I’ve felt connection that sure seemed to go beyond the spoken word;
Once language is discarded, then the eyes can take a moment to be heard;
But a heart begins to wither when it’s only fed with all those things unsaid;
And I am just not strong enough for the stoic and the silent path ahead.
And I feel that distance, as I signal from below;
And I feel her resistance to the ways a love can grow.
Communication is the lifeblood, we all know;
But with so much to say—if I say it, she will go.
Communication could keep our love so strong;
But with so much to say, first I said it, now she’s gone.
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4. |
Don't Drag My Tempo
02:48
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Don't Drag My Tempo
(c. 2023 Walter Ehresman)
You drink too much--you play too slow;
Dig in your heels--you play too slow.
Don't drag my tempo!
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5. |
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Zara Spooked My Jitterbug
(©2022 Walter Ehresman)
When we were young, you would buzz my bait;
Down at the tank in the summertime;
Devil’s horse, built to agitate;
Chugger just tryin’ to keep in line.
Seasons passed, and we learned the map;
Down in the dark, where the worms crawl through;
Tried not to hang up in those hidden traps;
Tried not to snag out so far from view.
[chorus]
Zara spooked my jitterbug;
Hula popped my pico perch;
When you said you wouldn’t fish with me,
you left my heart in the lurch;
Now I’m Heddon down to the waterside--
gonna toss one in;
See the devil dare once more;
Watch the beetle spin.
Ain’t havin’ fun with my Texas rig,
now that I’m fishin’ alone;
Lazy Ike and the lukewarm six—
no substitute, now you’re gone.
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6. |
Sweet Nothin's
04:59
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Sweet Nothin’s
(© 2022 Walter Ehresman)
Great tragedies mean nothin’,
unless they happen to you;
Empathy is foreign—
just another thing a man shouldn’t do;
And who could have foreseen it……?
Know nothin’……..proud to—
badge of honor in your hill tribe;
……..in your little town;
With the online scribes
who pass the poison ‘round.
[chorus]
Oh, sweet nothin’s………just
foundational notions of democracy;
Cast aside by yahoos in ascendency;
Oh, sweet nothin’s……
Hard to claw back, once they’re gone;
Hard to claw back, once they’re gone;
Hard to claw back, once they’re gone.
Seein’ nothin’—
just the script behind your eyes;
Delusions ‘neath that flag disguise;
Horde the bullets, see no prize……
no real end-point you can name.
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7. |
Cassandra, Cursed
06:41
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Cassandra, Cursed
(© 2022 Walter Ehresman)
From Troy, into Apollo’s gaze—
the gift that broke her heart;
A lifetime of futility;
To stand always apart;
--Oh, Cassandra (of the mists).
No one wants to hear it,
and no one will give her time;
All reflexive in the spurning;
All will put that view behind;
--Oh, Cassandra (of the fruitless truth).
[chorus]
Oh, I wish I could not see……
Please take this sight away from me!.......(away from me)
Or else I’ll fade away…………….(fade)
Hide away from stronger streams;
Secluded in the dust;
These truths have never helped her,
now all visions turn to rust;
--Oh, Cassandra (of the end).
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8. |
Distracted Assassin
04:17
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Distracted Assassin
(© 2022 Walter Ehresman)
What have you brought me, distracted assassin?
"Informative" lists, or farewells that ring true?
The cadre diminished, slow moments to pass in;
A chamber of echoes—no footprints ensue.
Some conscious decision, distracted assassin?
An act of volition, or negligent whim?
The cost is the same, and the toe-tag still fitted;
These details may not matter much in the end.
Remembering days when we thought we were soldiers
of common cause facing a world that’s gone mad;
But maybe I’m looking through mists past my shoulder;
And maybe rewriting those thoughts in the sand.
Was it all real, distracted assassin?
These days I have questions about my recall;
A foxhole for one is a tough thing to dance in,
and lying down in it is just no dance at all.
Remembering days when we thought we were soldiers
of common cause facing a world that’s gone mad;
But maybe I’m looking through mists past my shoulder;
And maybe rewriting those thoughts in the sand.
And maybe I’m looking through mists past my shoulder;
And maybe rewriting these thoughts in the sand.
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9. |
Charlie's Hands
06:59
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Charlie’s Hands
(© 2021 Walter Ehresman)
Charlie’d shake your hand before the Cootie;
His grip was firm, but with nothing to prove.
The weight of all the news had not yet broke him;
Though he felt the distant rumble of that truth.
Charlie saw the shaking in his 50s--
hands not as strong as they once used to be.
People said his eyes showed cracked foundation,
though he’d just say there was too much to see.
[chorus]
Children used to sulk and stamp their feet,
‘til an adult told them how to show they’re grown;
But now the parents act like schoolyard bullies,
as they raise some little monsters of their own.
And the splinter of their hatred always festers,
but it’s never aimed at those that put them there;
And the strings tied to their arms control the motion,
while dark seeds grow in ground that they prepared.
Charlie set the pen down in his 60s—
his longhand now a cipher he can’t read.
His vote don’t count ‘cause he won’t wear the Red Hat;
His voice not heard amidst the strident screeds.
Now Charlie’s hands are clean and clipped and folded
for the few who came to make the final view;
In the end, he did not leave a manifesto
beyond the way he treated me and you.
And we will not say that Charlie was a weak man—
it’s just the weight of all he saw that drove him down;
And in this dust and heat and bloody last gyration,
can we really say he should have stuck around?
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10. |
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March Beneath That Cheshire Moon
(© 2023 Walter Ehresman)
Woke us up before the dawn, the night a threatening wall--
black cannot describe it……just no color there at all;
The sergeants hissed the usual threats as we put on our gear,
and silently filed to the void, and chewed the cud of fear.
They took some land some years ago—the world was not aroused;
And now they’re back to take the rest—so again we drop the plow;
My wife and child have gone to ground—I will not see them soon;
For now we march into the void, beneath the Cheshire moon.
Their cruelty, a fetish, and their souls have left the field;
They shell the old and sick and lame, and scream for us to yield;
The global robber barons think it poor form to refuse,
and wish us ill as we march on, beneath the Cheshire moon.
And to the East, the dragon stirs atop its golden horde;
Replenishing our enemy with new and mighty swords;
We try to gauge the hearts out West by throwing of the runes,
and hear a distant laughter falling from that Cheshire moon.
The night explodes, we hit the ground (for some, it is too late),
and ponder our realities, our geographic fate;
We dream of peace, but wonder if we’ll ever know that tune,
as war drums thunder through the night, beneath a Cheshire moon…..
as cycles weep to end themselves, beneath the Cheshire moon……
as, once again, we rise and march beneath that Cheshire moon.
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11. |
The Finale Rack
07:20
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The Finale Rack
(© 2023 Walter Ehresman)
With a blaze of light, we bring down the curtain;
Leaving all that we have, leaving nothing unsaid;
Sharing all of the love, so you can be certain
of the place that you hold
in the depths of our souls,
and to help ease you into new sightlines that lie ahead.
Please don’t cry, and please raise up your eyes;
Reach up into this light, as it folds back the night;
We could only be here
with the ones we hold dear—
merging hearts one last time in explosion of brilliant insight.
Be joyful for us as we lay all these burdens down.
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12. |
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Lion Joe, the Internet Troll
(© 2022 Walter Ehresman)
Deep in the night, in his mother’s basement,
the king of the jungle goes prowling around;
Leaping from the bushes when you least expect it;
Chuckles to himself while he’s earning his crown.
[chorus]
He’s Lion Joe, the internet troll;
Computer savvy (not so much with the girls);
He's the patron saint of the uninvited;
Compensatin’ for the micro in the digital world.
Never much for creating new things;
But years in the trenches always tearing things down;
Wetting blankets and pissing on Cornflakes;
A might rain machine for parades in this town.
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13. |
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Charlie’s Hands
(© 2021 Walter Ehresman)
Charlie’d shake your hand before the Cootie;
His grip was firm, but with nothing to prove.
The weight of all the news had not yet broke him;
Though he felt the distant rumble of that truth.
Charlie saw the shaking in his 50s--
hands not as strong as they once used to be.
People said his eyes showed cracked foundation,
though he’d just say there was too much to see.
[chorus]
Children used to sulk and stamp their feet,
‘til an adult told them how to show they’re grown;
But now the parents act like schoolyard bullies,
as they raise some little monsters of their own.
And the splinter of their hatred always festers,
but it’s never aimed at those that put them there;
And the strings tied to their arms control the motion,
while dark seeds grow in ground that they prepared.
Charlie set the pen down in his 60s—
his longhand now a cipher he can’t read.
His vote don’t count ‘cause he won’t wear the Red Hat;
His voice not heard amidst the strident screeds.
Now Charlie’s hands are clean and clipped and folded
for the few who came to make the final view;
In the end, he did not leave a manifesto
beyond the way he treated me and you.
And we will not say that Charlie was a weak man—
it’s just the weight of all he saw that drove him down;
And in this dust and heat and bloody last gyration,
can we really say he should have stuck around?
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Walter Ehresman San Miguel De Allende, Mexico
Called "the quintessential Austin DIY artist" by famed local disc jockey Charlie Martin , Walter Ehresman was an eccentric presence in the Austin music scene from the '80s until his 2015 move to Mexico. A prolific songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and recording artist...and a restless musical spirit, always looking for something new, expressed with fearlessly honest, socially-conscious lyrics. ... more
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