The Steady Swagger

The Steady Swagger

 Montréal, Quebec, CAN

"We broke a branch off the 'ol folk tree, whittled away the bark and called it a Whiskeybillie stick!" - The Steady Swagger, Montreal



"We broke a branch off the 'ol folk tree, whittled away the bark and called it a Whiskeybillie stick!" - The Steady Swagger, Montreal

The Steady Swagger is a power trio based out of Montreal that play music self defined as Whiskeybillie; heavy folk rock reminiscent of Gogol Bordello, Tom Waits and Primus fermenting in a charred oak cask. Fronted by two mainland pirates, with whiskey soaked baritone voices, they deliver live shows that are fueled by a raw energy that has been known to inflict uninhibited swaggered smiles on men, women and children alike. With an acoustic guitar, a two piece drum kit (played with brushes) and an upright bass as their humble setup, this trio always make it clear that what they offer is not a "tranquil" experience. Theirs is aggressively fun and has the power to get any feet stomping!
Since the dawn of 2011 they have recorded two, independently released, studio albums. The first, ...and they call it Whiskeybillie (2012), has been ranked # 3 in CIBL's album Awards of 2012, Montreal and # 8 in the top 10 of Melbourne's Beat Magazine, Australia (issue 1327 p.52). The Steady Swagger ride in an '89 burgundy Chevy van dubbed King Swagon, in which they have toured Quebec, Ontario and New Brunswick. Their plan is to keep on driving out farther until they have reached the sea, after which they plan load some barrels in a ship and sail away.

"Their music is explosive as gunpowder" - BangBang, Montreal

"This lovely crew always, without fail, manages to fill the atmosphere with the most festive of vibes" - Hot Soup, Montreal


Fire & Whiskey

Written By: Pi Sailin' Cutler & Mathieu W. Lacombe

What happened that night if I could remember
I found myself wandering out on the streets
Then it started to rain when this man stood before me
His face was a shadow his deep voice said to me
“Where are you going”? I said mind your own business
I reached in my bag I had one can of Guinness
So I cracked her right open, she was done in one shot
I stepped in the bar and I ordered some shots of whiskey…

The man sat beside me and he looked in my eyes
I said why are you here? Then I was shocked and surprised
It was the devil in person with red scales for skin
“It’s been a long time, tell me how have you been”
I was speechless and afraid and I could barely move
No one could see him so I could not prove
But I swear that I saw him he was physically there
I was not yet drunk I was mentally scared
With a click from his fingers then the barmaid appeared
Then the devil he said “I’m ready for Fire and Whiskey”

Well sit by me lad and let’s drink this whiskey
Then fire will surround you and things will get freaky
But don’t be afraid, I’ve no need for your soul
I need you to sit, and to drink, and to feel bold
We’ve now one shot down, now lets have some more
The flames they’ll burn quicker, let’s get drunk then drink more
Then we’ll hit the streets and I’ll go out for more
But I’ll let you go home to that missus you adore

I was too drunk when I crawled in your bed
Cold skin and dreamless you’d think I was dead
Cause my eyes they were empty and my body felt weak
But my lungs were still breathing and my breath it smelled like whiskey

Heavin’ Stone

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe and A. Blakney

“Heave fools, make us move
Turn right fools, make us move”

First I saw it, perfection, selected for the “finest” of men just sitting atop sippin’ on tea and livin’ life free and collecting all the money from you and me
Livin’ for the spite of productive life, big brother always told em “just be nice”
Now they’re heavin’ a stone away from their homes to a far undisclosed location
Finally my eyes they dropped low to make out so many droves of people wrapped in rope and doing their damn best to cope with the situation at hand
“Heave fools c’mon make us move!” said the “finest” of men high above the sand
“Turn right fools c’mon we gotta move!” to the droves of good folks

The stone’s been tainted but the blood has faded to create a pretty marble design
The dust never settles except for when the rain comes to wash their sins and turn tears to mud
The rope’s tied tight and try with all their might they can’t put up a good fight can’t even sleep at night ‘cause they’re being dragged under and over them ropes, unraveling reality and strangling hope

While they build their kingdom many good men die but let’s keep on resisting and question why and where are they leading us and what are they feeding us
Don’t you know they’ll cut your brain if that’s what it takes to make a pull-sane man?
While they build their kingdom many good men die but why in the first place
Why did all those good men follow?

It’s a new generation heavin stones like flocks surviving the conquered old stock in a solid mind-lock
With broken backs they think the rope is right “we gotta pull our weight, it’s our reason for life”
Why comply with a norm set in stone by those born and pre-disposed to control us
I’ve opened my eyes it took a crack of the whip, I see our future is rope and a boot to the face

Tales of a Turtle

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe and A. Blakney

Welcome all please have a seat, the chairs they’re tied together
And until you’re called stay off your feet or you’ll find them both severed
We lead you here, you followed with fear but you couldn’t care less to be bothered
The tales you hear are often revered and give good cause to the author

We need hunters and farmers and those that breed scapegoats to keep ourselves clean
We need workers, barristers and those without to build and maintain this machine
We need paper bills, more reasons to kill and division of class
We need conspiracies and secret agencies, it’s convoluted you say? Well that’s the best part

Lets all sing together while we work to remember what made us forget in the first place
The tales they entice and they’re there to remind us that everything fine but we are not safe

These walls you see pay them no mind just take a number and get in line
One more leap of faith, simply close your eyes, you must trust us, everything’s fine
We are the ones in control don’t forget just pay attention to the tales
These fine stories to induce conformity now have a seat, the chairs they’re tied together

Drink with me

Written By: Pi Sailin' Cutler

Beside the graveyard there’s a man beneath a tree
With words of wisdom he could always set you free
From time to time he’d use them tricks to manipulate
Come out and grab a shot now drink with me tonight

Everybody drink! Drink with me!

He used his power to turn the world to his own image
Oh no don’t you know he’s a very heavy drinker
He lifted his hand up in the air and turned the sea into wine
Come out we’ll have a swim and we’ll drink ‘till the seas are drying

One More Shot

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe

One more shot, just one more then I'll go
one more shot, just one more for the road
well I know I said that I would only come out for one drink but I lied my friend
because here I am, I'm taking shots behind locked doors

Well barkeep one for me, and one for my friend
then go ahead and pour one down for yourself
well it might be a quiet Tuesday night
but I'll be drinking, I'll be drinking all night
so one more for me, and pour one more down for you

I ain't got much money, but I've got my friends
but I moved so far away and I found myself alone again
I spent all my money, well that's alright
but I lost the girl, I should of put up a fight
but at this point I'm so drunk I don't even care

Dirty Dance Floor

Written By: Pi Sailin' Cutler and Mathieu W. Lacombe

We came along just to get your feet moving
all you fine looking folks with swaggered smiles on your faces
put your drinks up...
we ain't got no time to waste we're gonna kick up dust

And when we meet again I'll still be playing this game
I will pretend that I remember your name
I have this vague conviction that we have met before
while drinking sangrias on a dirty dance floor

We've got some sweat rolling down our backs
from lugging all our shit upon the STM
get your drink on...
we're gonna get bodies moving with these Whiskeybillie songs
So won't you go ahead and have a drink with me
we're gonna get blood flowin' with some fire and whiskey
put your drinks up...
we ain't got no time to waste we're gonna kick up dust

We'll dance to Italian accordion riffs
I'll be dancing in the mud, my hand around your hips
we'll shout out one loud, that shit never fails
raise our glass to the moon
This dirt's not for sale!

Barrels of Rhum

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe and Pi Sailin' Cutler

A barrel of rum, a barrel of rum
we'll never say no to a barrels of rum

We set sail for Jamaica with sugar-laced barrels
to be filled with their rum as they called us all scoundrels
with a swallow, time three, we'll then set out to sea
to the north we shall sail, as drunk as can be

With the scullery maid to my cabin I'll stumble
like a true buccaneer, yeah we'll screw on the barrels
then I send her away and go dance on me deck
I'll drink me some more, until rum I will sweat

Mates stand up and rise as the captain arrives
with a flask in his hand, and a peg at his thigh
he drank himself drunk and kicked over his trunk
he grabbed a handful of plunder, "the world's ours" he thundered

We've been sailing for months, and for months we've been drunk
the rum gets so strong, I care not if we sunk
with red eyes, sweet home, we have finally reached
what was rum in a barrel, has now turned to Screech

What is that screech?
It's the rum, me son!

Mr. Johnson

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe & P. Sailin Cutler

Where were you Mr. Johnson?

Well it started when I was a boy in Beautiful Montana
I was farming Alpacas with my father and Mama
When late one night I was climbing a tree
And out of nowhere a mountain lion sprung upon me
Well our dog, Lady Trixie, was nowhere to be seen
A Turkish Anatolian as tough as can be
Did I fight the lion off? Hell I sure did try
But I was just a boy, and that's the first time I died

Considering the seriousness of the crime son
You better not be lying or you'll do your time
So I ask again, where were you Mr. Johnson?

I bounced back as a man out in sunny Australia
I started me a business, I was building computers
I met my late wife and she brought forth a son
And just outside the Hospital there was a hit and run
They ran me right over, they left me to die
Funny that the Hospital was right in sight
And all through my life not one lie have I said
that was in 1982, the second time I was dead

You claimed you were climbing the peaks of the Great White Rockies
A reborn warrior, you were fighting off grizzlies
You died a third time then you came back in Mali
Are you ready to testify all of this to the jury

I don't believe you Mr Johnson

I do believe you are guilty as charged.

The Ol' House

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe

There is an ol' house by the river
beyond the old fence, by the black river
built by a man with his very own two hands
built by a man who worked this land
and good songs, he always sang
and he lived most of his life all alone

He told us someday he'll be gone
but this rustic house will sing his song once more

And it will have the strength to withstand
the rain, and snow, and the winds that blow for year to come
for the years that have past, by the black river the house did last
And this is where we'll make our home
raise our kids, sing our songs, grow old and tired
and looking out at the horizon, we'll sleep at last

One day we'll be gone
but this rustic house will sing our song once more

Mon Verre est Vide

Written By: Mathieu W. Lacombe

Tire moi d'la boucane dans les yeux
Dans l'estomac je sent le feu
Ma p'tite danseuse, j'n pense qua toi
L'odeur fume m'rentre dans l'nez
Je n'ai pas eu assez d'année
Et tout a coup, mon verre est vide

Coule moi du fort au fond d'la gorge
Tout les menteries ils se délogent
Ils vont s'enfuir vers leur sommeil
Sur l'autoroute, l'estime de soi
Un gout débile des vieux roi
Et tout a coup, mon verre est vide

Dans une fraction d'une second seul
Notre univers elle ferment ca gueule
J'me trouve foutu, les mains a terre
Cette balle elle grongent les intestins
Elle m'achèveras d'ici l'matin
Et a cette fin, mon verre est vide


The Steady Swagger, 2013
The Steady Swagger...and they call it Whiskeybillie, 2012
The Steady Swagger EP, 2011

Set List

Original works:
Barrels of Rhum
Dirty Dance Floor
Mr. Johnson
The Ol' House
One More Shot
6 Gun City
Mon Vere est Vide
Our Law is Lead
A Message
Fire and Whiskey
Primal Wave
Big Fat Radiant Sun
Squashed Mouse
Heavin' Stone
Tales of a Turtle
Drink With Me

Weird Beard - Mad Caddies
Cadillac - The Clash
Alabama Song
Circus - Rant music
Formidable Marinade - Michealangelo