PITCHFORK: "powerful and engaging...these are the finest songs of wall's career and he knows it"

NOISEY: "arresting...unpredictable...dark...desolate"

SPIN: "lo-fi treasure...art-folk stunner...marvel at wharfer's haunted, carved-out constructions...a no-frills, self-made passion project through and through...the singer's voice booms with a newfound confidence reminiscent of bill callahan"

INTERVIEW: "there's something particularly beautiful about wharfer...wall has created his own version of haunting, yet gorgeous folk music that is hard to ignore"

BUZZFEED: "one of the "24 reasons to love folk music in 2013...kyle wall’s growled, warbly voice immediately sets wharfer apart from the majority of DIY folk that’s popping up even in urban centers like brooklyn."

POPMATTERS: "the best kind of bittersweet...if jeff tweedy, glen hansard and sufjan stevens met tom waits at justin vernon’s wisconsin cabin, the result would be 'acadia'...a retreat, an intimate invitation to his mental musings, unhurried and lush in its puzzling prose, heightened by the best parts of folk and Americana."

THE WILD HONEY PIE: "original, heartwarming charm...increasingly enrapturing with every listen."

WONDERING SOUND: "loving, immaculately-executed tribute to country music’s lost heroes...like a cowboy's lullaby." (on 'broken land: songs of the flatlanders')

PIGEONS & PLANES: "kyle wall’s voice carries a muted despair, a warbly resignation that belies a streak of independence that runs through his music"

WE LISTEN FOR YOU: "with every subtle artistic choice, wall is simply defining himself as a songwriter with the intelligence to back up his raw talent"

IMPOSE: "a talented folk mind...channeling folk sounds of cat stevens and cass mccombs"

FOLKADELPHIA: "othing about his approach is phoned-in...the raw quality allows wall’s songwriting gifts to come to the forefront"

THE DELI: "like leonard cohen and early johnny cash meets phosphorescent"

BEATS PER MINUTE: "spectral beauty...feel[s] deeply informed of [a] long line of country and folk music"

October 11, 2019

“Obsidian”

I break down and try, try again to fly
But you’re higher than I’ve ever been Diane
Now that I’ve used all my words up on this weather,
You’re wet and settling in, you’re wet and settling in.
But there’s no one to screw here,
What’s the map on the floor for?
You whisper and I lie my ass off tonight
It’s all an exercise in light.

I try to out rights and wrongs in time
And I’m higher than I’ve ever been
How would I wake up as a spook or a drifter
When you’ve yet to settle in, when you’ve yet to settle in?
There’s no scenery to chew here, 
What’s that look on your face for?
I whisper and sigh my way out of sight,
It’s all crashing down tonight.

I can’t help but freeze and relitigate,
And I’m tired of dreaming I ran,
How could I be echoing on life support,
When I’ve yet to dial in, when I’ve yet to dial in?
But you’re calling my bluff dear,
What are any of these words for?
You whisper and I wind up a sacred lake,
But I’m not leaving you already, I’m declining

--


“The Only Way I’ll Sleep”

In a lonesome dream, you came to me,
And ricocheted what might’ve been
A rum-soaked path to a future wrapped in grass
The rain has kept your fears from growing.

There’ll be time for your idea of home to rust
And death’ll silence these old floors
But for now, you’re howling
And you can’t get a word out without those feelings
Of rapture writing off your plans
The past is screaming out to warn us

Plenty of dear friends notice me
Skipping out when skies glow red
And maiming the party,.
It’s the only way I’ll sleep.

In no time, this whole idea of life is crushed,
But then I’ll lighten up and feel the urge to glow
With my nerve gas face mask
Cracking in the face of petty backdrafts
Until I shove my face in the sand
And then I wither from the corners

—


“I Went Somewhere Else”

I don’t think I danced enough
In a night full of red ink.
But I drew a conclusion in the corner
Where the walls felt like sand
And your lies seemed thinner,
And the fireworks I feared
Rained down, down on our dinner.

So I went somewhere else
And I sat by myself
With the twilight making moves all around me
And a sea of dogs barking down my memories
And for once the space to forgo niceties
And a pack of old matches to strike
If I feel the need, the need to unwind, if I could.

This aura of recklessness soars the bar
As if it were my cocky dying breath,
And all at once, I’m moving as part
Of the missing harmonies 
That grew up eluding me,
And I should learn to take my own advice.

—

“Martha’s Leaving”

Saw a movie called Martha’s Leaving,
Ran until 11:30, some old k hole in the city.
Molten memories bursting out of me,
There was no one there but the librarian,
Screaming at the trailer set in a swamp near home,
It started to unravel in the first act,
A little twist in the framework.
I love to think I’m the only one who knows.

Dreaming a half step away from the plot,
Started feeling fried and dirty.
Lost senses hips to toes,
Couldn’t keep my coffee down,
Drifted off to a town song,
Awoken by a gunman and his laugh,
Was this all in his mind?
I wandered out and called a cab,
Approaching a sense of dignity
That the killer in the end would never reside in me.
I love to think I’m the only one who knows.

—

“Michelangelo”

Discipline has done me in again,
Home alone, tired and stoned,
Waiting for a charge or revelation.
My real name is Michelangelo, 
Been ashamed all my days,
All alone in old Ohio.
Gotta get away from this piano,
Gotta get up and get away from this piano.

If I could, I’d probably do you in again,
In a sense it’s the wind
Always trying to rise to the occasion.
Now my clothes are lain out on the patio,
I been your wife since last night,
But you’re alone as far as I know.
Gotta get around to getting out of here.
I gotta go and get around to getting out of here.

All my sins enrapture me to no end,
Heaven’s gate’s where i’ll wait
To witness my coronation.
With all my friends howling on the radio,
Feels so right but there’s fright
Between the cymbals and the cello
God’s among the cracks and sour notes
And falling snow, she’s among the cracks and sour notes.

—

“Ancient Creeps”

All the dogs in the park came out for me,
They saw a new face in their sleep.
When the point of our lines evaporates,
I’m just an ancient nameless creep.

This night was built for the birds,
We’re all flightless beasts at best.
There’s one question I keep sewn into my chest
Will I ever forget your address?
I’m trying to space out and end up at your address.

This scene has always left me half-asleep
Waiting for my dreams to rescue me
But when they beam me awake,
I’ll just space out and remain
An ancient nameless creep.

—

“Valley Fever”

Trying not to break apart, I’ve got valley fever
And I’m choking on this typewriter
Living out a self-fulfilling vision, internationally drowned

Saturday was lost but now I’m really getting violent
And I’m trying not to break your heart
Lost in this is theater I’m escaping, I don’t want to have a role

In our old town, the antidote’s the sound
Of aviation and flies sipping timber
And it’s clear as the sun glides west,
You’re the darkest thing I’ve done 
Miles away there’s a glimpse of a gold rush.

Dying in an unfamiliar kitchen, feeling better
Seeing opera in the trees
There’s nothing left to salvage in our story, I’m so sorry

—

“Sparse”

Darling I feel sparse
On the night that I reach back out to you,
It’s getting hot and I’m lonesome.

A clean room embracing me,
Pneumonia making dreams true,
I wish I could surround you.

Inside all these aimless walks
Are endless loops of time.
Darling I feel sparse.

—

“To Cease To Mean A Thing (To Anyone)”

As I slowly revisit the spot
Where I drew that dreaded pit of brawn,
I fall in love with this life 
Where I end each day as swan,
Upon a hill that’s lashing out
And falling upward, I remain yours.
You’ll remain a senseless speck of me
For as long as I ask.
And the street’ll cease to mean a thing to anyone.

But brutally we stand to gain
From a firing squad or two
On the edge of my bed
Where all the berries bleed through
I’ll never be there to treat you to an empty ballroom.
Maybe the sparks could afford to renew
Despite the rising volume
Still the street’ll cease to mean a thing to anyone.

It’s sound and it’s light and it’s always been fleeting
And I’m so uptight,
When I’m burning down our house, it’s just theater
Have I cheated all my life?
Or am I just cruising out dawning around,
An iron-rich inch of molasses
An idiot’s dream of detachment,
Floating over the depressed
Like ash on boiling water.
And the street’ll cease to mean a thing to anyone.

And when I’m up again,
I’ll move through the day as a flame,
Never mind how lost I am.

—

“Spilling Guts”

I’m sorry I did not have it in me
To roam around the globe with you.
I’ve been an eggshell for eight long years,
A whitening demon with dust in his ears.

You saw me as a level-headed fool
Lifting you up over the railroad,
A heartbreaking green light that I drew up,
Under my mattress through wonder and love.

While you flew off to France
In lockstep with the doves and holy water,
I split myself open and bled in the bar,
You tried to unwrap me and I went too far.

Use your eyes to shine a light on my design,
Your heart’ll know that I’m out of time.

—

“Myrtle Beach”

With hard-fought clarity,
I beg you to turn me down
And twist the night through sleight of hand
There are hundreds of alleys around
And I know about your husband
But I won’t treat you foolishly
‘Cause one day I’ll be back
When you’re feeling cold.

When I jump out the window
And plunge him in the water
And hide out in Myrtle Beach
I knew success would be severe
And blue skies are just beyond
But I’m in line for a heart attack
But one day I’ll be back
When you’re feeling cold.