Blueyed Son

Blueyed Son

BandAmericanaSinger/Songwriter

Blueyed Son is your one-stop shop for forlorn Texas ballads, self-righteous political rant anthems and rockabilly acoustic rhythm-churners for reunited lovers.

Biography

Blueyed Son is the one-person DIY band created by songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Joe Drymala.

Recording everything himself using a single microphone in the living room of his NYC apartment, Drymala released his Blueyed Son debut EP "BLUE EYED SON" on 10/28/09, and is currently writing and recording his upcoming full-length "The Zero Years," scheduled for early 2010 release.

Blueyed Son was born in New York City, but Joe Drymala was born in Texas; he taught himself piano at 11 and guitar and drums at 13, and played in a bunch of local Bexar County-area prog metal bands until he left for college.

He spent a year at Berklee, dropped out, moved to New York, wrote some experimental contemporary classical music, got pissed off at George Bush, moved to Vermont for a year to volunteer for Howard Dean's presidential campaign, ended up as Dean's speechwriter, came back to New York after Dean got blown out, got an MBox, started playing around with pop music of every kind, wrote some pop and country tunes for a creepy downtown theater piece about a white supremacist teen pop band, got that music played on Good Morning America, started writing music to perform himself, created Blueyed Son, and started playing gigs all around Brooklyn and lower Manhattan, including Goodbye Blue Monday, Bushwick Music Studios, Matchless and The Local 269.

Lyrics

The First Time

Written By: Blueyed Son

The First Time

yeah you woke up and huddled under your covers
thinking that you've had enough and you're all mixed up
so you stood up abrupt and got up your blood
and figured it was all or nothin, and you said good luck
as you signed your name to what you left behind
and you opened the door and took a look outside
and your cigarette hit you like the very first time you had one
yeah, it choked you up
it was the house where you spent your first banged-up years
and you watched it getting smaller in your rearview mirror
and you knew it was the last time you'd see that, baby

so you gotta do something now that you busted out
and you can feel the crush, and you gotta adjust
you been too long doing all the same things
hoping for a different result, but now you gotta hustle
cause you're getting cold, and spending your last dime
and you don't know how to go slower cause you never tried
you're strung out and you're thinkin it's time you found love
but that's a harder drug
you think you been around, maybe you been hurt
but you never felt anything on this earth
that can ever prepare you for the first time, baby

and sure enough, somebody answered your call
and he wanted your secrets and you told them all
and he took your hand and started pulling you up
and you thought you might finally make it over that wall
but he let you go, baby, and you crashed down,
he didn't even turn around to see you fall
and the first time you felt that
you knew you could never take yourself back
you gave more than you thought you had
and now you gotta learn to live without that
and you never thought you'd see the day
when you'd be the kind to lock your love away
but there's always a first time, baby

so you took a good hard look at your condition
and you sized it up, and said love was nothin
next to nickels and dimes, and you figured it was time
you got some, and baby who could judge
you do what you gotta do to survive
when the medicine came, you closed your eyes
long as someone was making it worth your while every time
you swallowed the stuff, and you got a rush
when you'd put another dollar on top of that stack
even though you sold something that you couldn't buy back
and you knew that wouldn't be the last time, baby

but they tossed you out when the new blood arrived
and you were back looking in from the outside
wondering who knew if you were dead or alive
and you rolled a little something and you rode the yellow train
to the end of the line and you got real high
on the wonder wheel ride just wondering why
and the first time you felt that
you knew you could never take yourself back
you realized that you had it made
but left out everything that mattered, babe
and after all you'd done, you never thought
kidding yourself would be your worst crime
but there's always a first time, baby

and now you're just a little bit older,
next time will be a little bit easier
now you're just a little bit older,
next time will be a little bit easier
now you're just a little bit older,
next time, next time
will be easier, baby

when you found me i was lying face down
i could barely remember how to keep both eyes open
cause they'd been blackened so much
and when you came around, i put my hands up
and covered those marks where i got broken
but you showed me your scars and my eyes focused
and you opened your arms
and the first time i felt that
i crossed myself, and then i fell fast
i swore off the taste in years past
but baby won't you pour me up another glass
cause we're on the road to hell and back
they're down there rollin out the welcome mat
we struggled in vain to change our wicked ways
but we weren't made to take the sheltered path
we thought we knew better once
and went looking for experience
and got the kind that you never want
but baby, we were never that young
and when all is said and done
nobody stops the setting, setting sun
but there's always a first time, baby
yeah, there's always a first time baby

The Lonesome Death of Pablo Aguilar

Written By: Blueyed Son

The Lonesome Death of Pablo Aguilar

"sons of the texas republic
worn out and luckless young masters of
dust-and-mesquite-covered plains, i can hear you,"
said the bloodthirsty shouts on the radio waves
rising up from the rusted old trucks and mustangs
"a cancer has taken hold deep in our house,
who here among us will defend the south?
gather your courage and live ammunition
and head for the rio grande..."

so they came, dozens of otherwise unnoticed men
armed like they'd never see this world again
eager to defend us all from invasions of poor migrant laborers
and they came, every encampment a flag to display
certain that we would be grateful one day
trustworthy servants dispatching their dangerous prey

oh, for every one fallen, another will come
oh, for every one fallen, we'll give thanks my sons
oh, we'll march like our fathers for all the lost ones,
holy holy

fourteen-year-old pablo aguilar
keeps well ahead of the others
he walks much faster than his older brothers
each one more hardened to all of life's sorrows
than their brother pablo
and they cross, beneath the precious gray light before dawn,
unaware that their fates might be foregone,
their bodies still drenched with rio grande water
they touch texas soil

pablo shouts, urging his brothers to catch up to him
he feels the first morning sun on his skin
when a cloud of dust bursts right where he had just been
and he jumps back in terror
he runs, but the hot lead cuts through him like the blade of a knife
from a high powered rifle worth more than he'd seen in his life
he falls and cries out for his brothers with the last of his marrow

oh, for every one fallen, another will come
oh, for every one fallen, we'll give thanks my sons
oh, we'll march like our fathers for all the lost ones,
holy holy

a man calls for his two sons and lowers his rifle,
still warm to the touch;
his son's ages are such that if pablo were kin,
he would be right in the middle of them
they dig a short hole and roll his dead body right in
later that night, he says, men,
we are the last of a vanishing kind
like william b. travis did, we draw our lines
to guard the republic from all those inclined to see liberty trampled

he's content, with no thought of what a man's life might be worth,
proud of what he was entitled by birth
their sleeping bags stretched out on the brown earth,
just as hard as an anvil
and they sleep, by the glow of the stars and the campfire coals;
at daybreak, his younger son's body is cold,
cut through the chest with a long blade that reads 'aguilar' on the handle

oh, for every one fallen, another will come
oh, for every one fallen, we'll give thanks my son
oh, we'll march like our fathers for all the lost ones,
holy holy

Leave it all behind you

Written By: Blueyed Son

after the fever's course is run
and the battle's lost and won
and we got nothing left but time
to begin to take account
to unravel what was done
to consider what was found
gained that darkness borne from grief
and lost all of our belief
in the fables of our youth
stumbling toward a harder truth
everything unsaid and underneath
kept alive through tension and relief
and every curse and every sin
covered you like ashes from the wind

oh leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind you
yeah leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind
oh nothing left to tie you down
nothing left to guide you now
leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind

it's all over but the grudge
and it's colder than it was
and there's little left to gain
cast our thunder far and wide
salvaging our beaten pride
still we couldn't bring that rain
and the gestures of the crowd
hold no comfort for you now
old fires burning down below
old restraints to overthrow
refugees and pioneers
burn the ships that brought you here
prepare a straighter path to go
each of us younger than we know

oh leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind you yeah
leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind
oh nothing left to tie you down
nothing left to guide you now
leave it all behind you now
leave it all behind

Discography

Debut EP "BLUE EYED SON" was released online October 28, 2009
Tracks are featured at last.fm, Jango, radioindy.com

Set List

currently it's about 30-40 minutes. a typical set looks like this:

Leave it all behind you
Come back to me
The first time
The Lonesome Death of Pablo Aguilar
Bexar County
Long Way Off
The restoration of the western shoreline

...and usually a cover song. recently i've done Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away", Kanye West's "Love Lockdown", and Jenny Lewis's "Acid Tongue", all on acoustic guitar with a Texas sound. i tend to just cover the songs that i'm listening to at the time, so this changes pretty much every gig.

i also covered "Born in the USA" at a July 4th barbecue, but you can't really rock that one unless the occasion is appropriate, and no one really rocks it like Bruce anyway, so I probably won't be doing that one again. unless Bruce asks me, in which case i'd have to do it. just in case the person reading this is Bruce.