WHISKEY BLANKET:Steven Pampel - Productions, Vocals, Piano, Organ, Bass, Slide Guitar and ScratchesJoe Lessard - Vocals, Violin, Acoustic & Slide Guitar, Whistle, and Tenor Banjo Jordan Polovina - Vocals, Harmonica, and Cello

GUEST ARTISTS:Bonnie Paine - Vocals and Saw (5)Greg Schochet - Electric Guitar (1, 4, 7)Paul Maley - Trumpet (1, 7) and Slide Trumpet (7)Choir (1, 5, 7) - Jane Pampel, Kathleen Starr, Timothy Starr, Quinn Lynch, Joe Lessard, Amelia Petrini, Joanne Belknap, and Louise Knapp

All tracks composed and arranged by Whiskey Blanket Produced, recorded and mixed by Steven Pampel at Steak Labs Mastered by Jim WilsonCover Art by Joe LessardGraphic Design by Joe Lessard & Xander Hirsch (XsHirsch@gmail.com)

For booking and management contact: WhiskeyBlanket@gmail.com

Thank you to our fans, families, friends and collaborators for making this album possible.

www.WhiskeyBlanket.com

THE STORY UNFOLDS

We start life not knowing much, unaware of what it’s like to be grown up/ this story unfolds with a boy and his soul and an idea that would play a poisonous role/ now he’s not your typical archetype, lost child brought up on bibles and market hype/ naw, he’s the antithesis of orthodox who’s seen the dissonance of people living in Pandora’s box/ he’d given more to thought, not to afford a lot, ‘n stopped at a door to knock every day at four o’clock/ oddly auspicious, brazen/ and not a shred of doubt had been about on this occasion/ now we can tell you what he was asking for but that’s really not the point/ let’s just say that world peace is destined for disaster/ people can’t be on the same page and be in different chapters/ the subject of the books he studied mostly didn’t matter/ they could make him shed a tear or elicit laughter/ he didn’t play, he hid away above the kitchen rafters and found the knowledge that he gained to be a fickle master/ the more he understood the less he was sure that anyone’s possessed intentions were especially pure/ his desire to share the recipes he kept in a drawer would inspire his daily walk to knock on destiny’s door/ and when it opened/ how his mind would explore/ he grew to find some peace and quiet in the violence and gore/ he excelled at school assignments on the tyrants of war and found himself preoccupied with what he tried to ignore/ an orphan, prob-lem child of divorce he was tired and sore/ scattered blueprints lining the floor/ about to finally decide that it was time to abort he noticed that the ball was sliding toward his side of the court/ and now his luck of the draw had finally changed/ puzzled as he chuckled in awe and tried to explain how an ostensibly cursed life reversed right in front of his eyes, right before his demise/ now a budding scholar he identified the vital link between the human psyche and the science of survival/ but something sinister his story would become/ join us in the next chapter cause this journey’s only just begun

THE FORLORN ROAD

BIZ - We’re poverty stricken, not a lot of knowledge is given/ a modern day prison that holds hope and forgiveness over the motives we witness the old rope-a-dope/ feel the effect/ gold will hold its value over paper and checks/ I hate to accept that they’re making me wreck/ all I want to do is make a life and pay my respects/ media be a breeding ground for hate and neglect/ it seems to me it’s more than just a pain in the neck/ facing the facts while hating the specs/ staying patient in a nation that be taking that check/ I’m creating the debt while my wage is effected/ trying to keep it connected and I won’t be directed/ ascension/ I live my life on the thinnest ice/ it’s been ice but I think it’s time to fly/ and I ain’t scared of the afterlife, the fact is I was born to die. JOE - I get the feeling that we’re falling down/ nowadays it ain’t the prophets that we follow around/ it all amounts to no more than a solid ounce of the hallowed gold that we tore from the hollow ground/ walking tall and proud like a cat that caught a mouse/ though we’re always on the prowl when we know we oughta pounce/ tough to say I’m not a slouch when I’m sitting on the couch/ acting like the hokey pokey’s really what it’s all about/ ‘bout time we was honest how/ we just pray no one is brave enough to call us out/ ain’t no sheriff in this lawless town/ cause ain’t nobody want to do his thankless job, they want his crown/ not convinced what it costs to live ain’t a consequence like a loss of limbs/ when offices are chock-full of hostages for the dawn of the zombie apocalypse.STEAK - Most living middle browed in the middle ground/ given little doubt that little is endowed/ lost be the change that belongs/ strange is the way that our life moves on and on/ long gone be the silence and due regard for post-modern tyrants/ people loosing entire limbs/ that’s due to the violence and due to

what people do to environments/ no vitamins, colder than cryogen/ meanwhile the Blanket on the cello, keys and violin/ so don’t try to tell me that’s how the tire spins/ that’s like drinking Heinekens in Ireland/ now on a prior whim I sought me the truth/ cause enlightenment is oddly aloof/ and what I found was the obvious proof there’s some powerful kooks in cahoots, shoot!

in tow/ I demand you throw hands up, drop and freeze for the marauding thieves taking your watch and keys/ so ya’ll know that if I never cocked a piece it was only ‘cause I ever shot the breeze like - pow.BIZ - We don’t need your opinion whether you get it or not/ we’re here to kill it with a fiddle and a little epoxy/ are you feeling the moxie/ better go get your posse cause I’m running on oxy with a gun in the back seat/ I need at vaccine or machine/ the fact is Biz like to act like a crack fiend/ the rap scene made me dirty and pristine/ the best things in life are lost in passing/ asking for truth, I flash back to youth/ a bad attitude/ a fast ass la roux/ I must have had a few and we a nasty crew trying to catch some loot/ you better grab your boots/ cause we’re headed directly onto the hard road/ we’ll be offended if you don’t make it to our show/ pardon, you’re checking your smart phone cause you just realized we’re bigger than Star Jones.

BLATTO NOX

STEAK - You better bet all your dough bro on debtors and hobos and heading to the dreaded deadly end of the ozone/ repetitive no go’s and so so’s/ mojo running lower than when you’re learning the oboe/ that’s so tactful/ my tracks are macro and more complex than tax codes/ not saying the cash flow’s astro, I’m saying we rap tight as a lasso/ take a peek at the rhyme scheme you peek at my ID/ you might see why we be giving them dry heaves/ like you at the peak of the high seas/ any sicker we’d be seeking an IV/ I’ve been doing my tai chi, brewing my chai tea, loving my time, see I be using it wisely/ might be the crises of life’s why my psyche’s moving at light speed.JOE - Sound check to the after show, I’m the first to come and the last to go/ and it ain’t apropos playing chaperone to the whack, braggadocious and massive posers/ that goes for any other Casanovas trying to act their ass is a batch of roses/ ya’ll be running too fast trying to catch the Joneses to see the tarmac as it fast approaches/ I roam Sea-Tac to Sebastopol/ and call home anywhere that I cast my coat/ and imagine Joe flowing international with a flea market fiddle and a flask

DINNER WITH GHOULS

JOE - This is zombie surf punk, hip goth, gypsy pop/ indie rock traded in the synth for a lindy hop/ Whiskey rocks in a major city or a whistle stop/ kids will flock/ some with shit to talk but we listens not/ it’s a god damn shame, it’s a race against the clock/ it’s the way you tick us off like minutes on a chintzy

watch/ listen boss, you can try to bicker with a Winklevoss/ but know you’ll only ever sink a shot with your fingers crossed/ get it dog like you running the Iditarod/ kid is only half the man I am as a minotaur/ I admit it ya’ll, I’m addicted to this literature/ that’s why the Blanket be the king of hearts and ya’ll ain’t in the cards

CHORUS - Meet the murderers and sinners and fools who ain’t breaking the law if they’re bending the rules/ you gon’ howl at the moon like you’re singing the blues/ tonight you’re having dinner with some mischievous ghouls.STEAK - It be that hip hop, zombie rock, popping like a lolly pop/ poppycock probably not copied in a coffee shop/ not for hockey jocks, honkeys talking sake shots/ I’m talking broccoli stock/ dog we got the gravitas/ we bring the ambiance like candles in a Taoist shrine/ we bring the commies thought like vandals of the Maoist mind/ we ain’t your Abercrombie models rocking Calvin Kline calamine lotion hoping that we help-ing Palestine/ so get your album signed before you stumble off/ I’ll tell you how to find yourself and play the rumplerausch/ I’ll be the humble hoss, chumps will grab their uncle’s glock and grumble softly as they mumble bumbaclot.CHORUS - Meet the murderers and sinners and fools who ain’t breaking the law if they’re bending the rules/ you gon’ howl at the moon like you’re singing the blues/ tonight you’re having dinner with some mischievous ghouls.BIZ - This is witch hop, bitch stop pulling on my pant leg/ you can catch a dick-pic, comes after a hashtag/ I’m crashing the party with a bottle of stag/ 140 proof, now this cat’s in the bag/ check out my fashionable rags/ hand me downs from my dad/ I’m glad to be a part of this, the Blanket is rad/ half of me’s bad, the other half is a blast/ so put a dollar in the slot and watch him fall on his ass/ I live my life with a dangerous mind/ the furthest thing from an angel’s design/ I’ll go straight to hell the day that I die but these days I feel like I’m waiting in line.

HELL & HIGH WATER

He watched them turn around, he watched them turn their backs/ he watched them burn it down, that which he built from scratch/ now everyone in town believes he lit the match/ they want to strip his crown and tie him to those railroad tracks/ he’s locked away with the evening sun/ it’s too late/ it’s too late now the deed is done/ and they sing oh, oh, oh, oh/ what a shame who he’s become/ he’s locked away with the evening sun/ it’s too late/ it’s too late now the deed is done/ and they sing oh, oh, oh, oh/ what a shame who he’s become/ she found him in a cage/ she swore to set him free/ and in a fit of rage she stole the prison key/ they set that jail ablaze and set out on foot to flee/ they headed back to face the

the demons who had let him bleed/ you wouldn’t know twenty years had passed/ it’s too late, it’s too late/ now the flood water’s rising fast/ and he sighs oh, oh, oh, oh/ and begins where he left it last.

THE LOST ONE’S TRAIL

JOE - Who’da thunk Joe be in a suit looking smooth as Bunk/ and that you’d have stunk like the booty on a wounded skunk/ picture me the Buddhist monk punching through the trunk/ trying to find if what moves a mind also moves a rump/ you’z a dunce, you should duck, you should run/ huff and puff/ you should just use your lungs/ I never use a gun/ I got a ruthless tongue that I use to stun emcees til it’s blue and numb/ they tell me what you do for fun never do for funds/ they act like if I’m losing luck than I’m losing love/ pardon me if I was stuck learning who I was/ cause introspection is some- thing that music does/ I think it’s humorous/ ya’ll think your crew is tough/

I need to settle down/ ya’ll need to loosen up/ so when you need a track imbued with the human touch/ Whiskey Blanket is a brand name you can trust.CHORUS - Whoa…..on this lonesome trail/ Whoa….’til this train goes off the rails.BIZ - Who wanna get with us/ far from a quick finish/ we keep the table turning ‘til we get spinach/ infinite predicaments keep the pit of my stomach in knots/ forget the gimmicks in the middle of an imminent plot/ the minute I stop is the second I die/ with pressure applied I stress and defy/ the opposition on a different mission/ fuck superstition/ I don’t believe in luck or ancient wisdom I’m minimalistic/ you see I don’t need a lot to keep the peace and rock a beat that’s hotter than a meteor speeding into the stratosphere/ acting adamant that I’m actually here/ spastic energy hiding behind my ears/ appear as a nice guy/ vanish in the night sky/ let them dice fly/ it’s a gamble if you can manage to handle it then you can be the man and suffer all of the damages.CHORUS - Whoa…..on this lonesome trail/ Whoa….’til this train goes off the rails.STEAK - Who done would a known Steak be the powerhouse coming through strong with a flavor like sauer-kraut/ got it going now we flowing like a shower spout/ ‘bout to get it on your trousers and your flower blouse/ you better run where the cowards joust/ we here to get it done/ now here the hidden tongue/ before we living among slums and crumb bum chums whom get in conundrums on limited funds/ what’s done’s done well when the dub b succeed some dwell/ must be cause of dusty dumbbells and a blood stream unseen in a nut shell/ upselling, I’m stuck telling them what’s relevant sucks elephant balls in a massive way/ it’s a masquerade, a crass master race/ we masticate the wack at a rapid rate, ha! CHORUS - Whoa...on this lonesome trail/ Whoa….’til this train goes off the rails.

THE STORY CONCLUDES

Lost gazes stretch over desolate roads in a town where the ghosts are desperate/ not a thought changes when they step in his home the sound of the unknown is definite/ broken bottles stained in blood made a battered path to the bedroom door/ scattered papers lie in a pile of the middle of the bedroom floor/ hoping his journal was there he stepped cautiously forward and reached behind a mahogany drawer/ as he dusted off the page it shot a bolt of energy through his arm into his skull, enough to jolt his memory/ now half remembering the notion that had set him free the way the feeling crept up through his spine like a centipede/ he couldn’t let it be, for his regret is deep, between the crumpled folds of paper huddled at his feet/ it’s like this city knew a secret it could never keep without someone assuring that its residents were dead asleep/ fell to his knees without a second lost or second thought, he connected dots and found the holes in old rejected plots/ he couldn’t figure why nobody would suspect the boss who covered up the story linking illness to infected crops/ now finally the pieces of the puzzle fit if only he could comprehend the forces he was up against/ at last he knew the bastards who had masked the truth and the magnitude of the task that he would have to do/ strapped his boots, grabbed his suit hat half askew/ snatched a few maps from the cabinet that he smashed in two/ slung a cold steel blade over his back and flew past his true love to a black and abandoned avenue/ he traveled through the ruins of his deserted town as the shadows grew beneath his feet that’s when he heard a sound/ looking for a door he backed into the first he found/ asavage crew of monsters moving toward him as he turned around/ drew the blade, made a move to the left

with a quick step through stabbed two in the chest/ to the right was goon that had crept through the hard wood floor making food of his flesh/ bit him once and he grabbed it’s head, spun around quick, snapped it’s neck/ jumped back to catch his breath, ravenous ready to attack the rest/ he started swinging and slicing through every throat and limb/ became increasingly frightened as they were closing in/ and now the chance of surviving’ was looking’ woefully slim, he closed his eyes only hoping’ they would open again/ and all was quiet on the western front/ he awoke to the vision of an angel all dressed in blood/ trying to grasp at the air above, staring up steadily becoming more aware of where he was/ wondering why his captors kept him from the end and left him unattended here except if he was one of them/ he crept into a narrow vent that led him through a passage where a broken pane of glass would grant him access to the masters lair/ and through it he could see the handle of his blade, unafraid he snuck behind the guards who faced the other way/ with sword in hand he took a step that made a sound they turned around and saw his shadow on the staircase that he hurried down/ panic mode, the vile

zombies were manifold as he began to show the symptoms of a rabid cannibal/ grabbing hold of a pocket inside his ragged coat he snatched the golden flask and took a fast swig of the antidote/ he slashed a can of propane to cause a gas explosion that staggered half a pack of zombies that were fast approaching/ came to a door in the path he’d chosen in a rapid motion smashed it open with the wrath of an angry postman/ coming at him was an ominous mob/ heads started flying he was chopping ‘em off/ decapitated every monster he saw ‘til he faced off with the boss of the squad/ took a swing trying’ to cut the beast but it ducked down and sunk it’s teeth/ got a grip on his rusty sheath, shoved it deep killing it from underneath/ as he lay hopelessly staring into the eyes of death, above him stood his bloody angel on a violent quest/ confident that only she could pass the final test, he handed her his flask and blade with his dying breath.