National DNA

by The Wyrd Brothers

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1.
02:26
2.
04:32
3.

about

Brian & Peter Wyrd played in various bands together starting out in 1967 as a Byrds cover band in Jr High school. They spent their youth playing music in the family barn or down in the basement breathing in concrete dust.
After 30 years Brian received an email from Peter with the first round of lyrics to “Racing to the Bottom”. Brian sent back a guitar part and the idea of a reunion was born.

credits

released January 5, 2017

Peter Wyrd: Vocals
Brian Wyrd: Guitar
Johnny Wyrd: Bass
Jacky Wyrd: Drums
Recorded by Michael Arafeh at The Coffeehouse, Middletown CT, Produced by Michael Arafeh

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about

The Wyrd Brothers New Haven, Connecticut

Brian & Peter Wyrd played in various bands together starting out in 1967 as a Byrds cover band in Jr High school. They spent their youth playing music in the family barn or down in the basement breathing in concrete dust.
After 30 years Brian received an email from Peter with the first round of lyrics to “Racing to the Bottom”. Brian sent back a guitar part and the idea of a reunion was born.
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Track Name: National DNA
Coast to coast,
Across the 'waves, Every broadcast imprints The National DNA.
Border to border,
Edge to edge to edge (to edge to edge to edge), Every broadcast imprints
The Exceptional American.
Why can't you control your impulse?
Your mother said your father said.
That control is so long gone,
No text to say the subtext read the impulse wrong.
So you turn TV on
And find yourself another frame. Maybe it's a dog whistle,
Maybe it's an alt.right game.
Or maybe it's a drone feed, Erasing some humanity.
(break)
Blade to blade,
Across the strands,
Streaming real and imagined American homelands.
Intercept to intercept,
Link to link to link (to link to link to link), Compliant metadata
For how we feel and how we think.
So you put your white hat on And the world opens up to you. Built out ready for inception, Tipping over to inflection, Merging into your reflection, The Exceptional American.
Track Name: Rust Belt
I was punched in the gut and kicked in the shin
They've pumped out all the lights and peeled back my skin
They're gonna shut down the factory tonight
They're gonna close the line for the very last time
I'm gonna punch out tonight for the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Y'know they thanked me for my work, thanked me for my time
But the hedge fund's gonna close this assembly line
They put 'r' pensions in the tank, threw us under the bus
Now the whole town's sinking and my skin's begun to rust
I'm gonna punch out tonight for the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Now there are 12000 holes in the factory floor
And 12000 miles Just to walk back in the door
And 12 more years to pay off what I owe
And 12 more minutes before they let me go
I'm gonna punch out tonight for the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Tonight
For the very last time
Track Name: Racing To The Bottom
Racing to The Bottom

Jill's in the Fun House playing for time, Jack's in the Road House cooking up dimes, Mary and Joseph are loading their guns,
Racing to the bottom but the bottom don't come.
Boy toy, Best boy, What's your name?
Your color don't matter when your skin's in the game, wage slave, dues paid, salary men,
Racing to the bottom, to the same Damn end.
Heaven sent a message and the message can't wait: Better punch your ticket if you want to get straight. But I can't go straight 'less I unwind,
Racing to the bottom, workin' overtime.
Jesus from K-Street he's up on the Hill,
Shaking down the money tree, working miracles, Back home in the bar room he's feeling pretty fine,
Racing to the bottom, babe, I got mine.
Racing to the bottom, baby, I got mine.
Racing to the bottom, there's no finish line.