Westward

by Taylor Bryn Jackson

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credits

released March 20, 2019

Voz y guitarra rítmica: Taylor Bryn Jackson.
Guitarra acompañante: Abraham Villaseñor.
Lap steel guitar y banjo: Erik Kasten.
Batería: Darko Palacios.
Violín: Gustavo Ordoñez.
Contrabajo: Iván Márquez.

Grabación, edición y mezcla: Wany.
Apoyo en armonías: Bissarro Contreras.


Rhythm guitar and vocals: Taylor Bryn Jackson.
Second guitar: Abraham Villaseñor.
Lap steel guitar and banjo: Erik Kasten.
Drums: Darko Palacios.
Violin: Gustavo Ordoñez.
Upright bass: Iván Márquez.

Recording, edition and mix: Wany.
Harmony support: Bissarro Contreras.


Master: Edgar A. Meraz / Estudio MT Digital.
Cover: Samantha Zothos.
Photo: Brenda Molgado / Viridarium Studio.
Web: Eliud Ernandes.
Imagotipo: Quetzal Cárdenas

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about

Taylor Bryn Jackson Guadalajara, Mexico

Country and Bluegrass singer-songwriter Taylor Bryn Jackson, was born and raised in multiple Mexican cities by a Michigan farmer and his Texan sweetheart.

As a great niece of legendary Country singer, Ernest Tubb, to say that Country music and sweet tea flows through her veins is an understatement.

At twenty-one, she’s managed to write, compose, and produce her first album entitled “Westward.”
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Track Name: Westward
Ain't been runnin' all over hell's half acre 
Too poor to paint, and too proud to whitewash 
But, faster than a hot knife cuttin' through the butter 
I best be headin' Westward 

Oh, I'm Westward bound 
Lost myself but hope I can be found 
We've all got scars, and skeletons, and crap 
What matter is how we handle that 

I fell out the ugly tree and hit every branch comin' down 
He always felt like the sun came up just to hear him crow 
Kept peein' down my back, and I thought it was rainin' 
I best be headin' Westward 

Oh, I'm Westward bound 
Lost myself but hope I can be found 
We've all got scars, and skeletons, and crap 
What matter is how we handle that 

He ran like a scalded haint just like ol' June said 
He left me there wonderin' what I am and what I ain't 

Oh, I'm Westward bound 
Lost myself but hope I can be found 
We've all got scars, and skeletons, and crap 
What matter is how we handle that
Track Name: Whiskey in the Dark
There's a hole in my stomach where my heart used to be; 
It fell when I heard you say those words. 
No matter how much I love, no matter how much I care, I know you're not with me if I ain't there. 

Well, I ain't the first one in your life. 
I'm well aware before me it was your wife. 
So I'll drink this glass of whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect you are. 

I was fifteen when I met you and now I'm twenty-one. 
We've had our share of scrapes, burns, cuts, and scruffs. 
We've met each other's families, and we've met each other's friends, but maybe all this love just ain't enough. 

Well, I know your son is your whole life. But don't you think someday I could be your wife? 
For now, I'll drink this glass of whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect you are. 

You've got me feeling like a banjo... pickin' on my every string. 
I guess it doesn't count if it don't hurt. 
I've laid my cards down on the table, and now I'm laying down my head... praying that this mud won't turn to dirt. 

Well, baby, you are the best love of my life. Don't you wanna' be forever mine? 
Come and drink some whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect we are. 
And think about how perfect we are.
Track Name: One-Eyed Jack
Eyes are heavy, bed is warm. Guitar’s strummin’ what his poor heart pours. He had dreams to make it big, but now he sits here all alone; now he sits here all alone, I bet you’re wondering what went wrong.

One-eyed jacks are wild, two-eyed jacks are cash.
He doubled down on her but she turned her back.
One-eyed jacks are wild, two-eyed jacks are cash.
Now he’s run out of luck and she ain’t ever coming back.

Blood is runnin’ down the hall. It’s always easier to lie than crawl. The tub is filled with poker chips, emptiness, and greed.
Cincinnati, queens take all. If you ain’t out then you best break your fall. The deck is stacked, you ain’t got cash, and now you’ve got a broken heart. You ain’t the player that you thought.

One-eyed jacks are wild, two-eyed jacks are cash.
He doubled down on her but she turned her back.
One-eyed jacks are wild, two-eyed jacks are cash.
Now he’s run out of luck and she ain’t ever coming back.

Eyes are open, bed is cold. One-eyed Jack is lying on the floor. A hand in hand: he had a king, a queen, a jack, a ten, a nine. He slit his throat with her in mind. What a love so dumb so blind.
Track Name: I Wish My Boots Were Still Under Your Bed
You never believe me when I say that I still get jealous when you look at her that way
From lovers to best friends, well that’s just how it goes
I’m happy you’re happy, but I need you to know…

That I wish it had worked out, and I wish I were your girl now. I’ll always be there just like I said, but I wish my boots were still under your bed.

We’ve always been honest about how we felt, so it’s time that I told you that it just makes me melt when I see you smiling like never before. I’m trying my best to not show up at your door.

That I wish it had worked out, and I wish I were your girl now. I’ll always be there just like I said, but I wish my boots were still under your bed.

I wish I were there. And I wish I could compare to the one completes you. I wish this, I swear… I wish my boots were still under your bed.
Track Name: Preacher's Wife
Love ain’t love if you don’t break a few hearts; Jesus will forgive you, this I know (the Bible told me so).
There ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ tattooed arms while listenin’ to the preacher in the front row.

The people in the South, they talk and talk. So what if you have piercings and flaws? Well, honey, slap my ass if we don’t all.

You’d be surprised by the ones who deal in lies. It ain’t the ones locked up, no it ain’t those guys with knives. Would you buy it if I said that it’s those preacher’s wives that scatter nasty rumors all the time?

The people in the South, they talk and talk, and people in the church ain’t better off.

You could be the most perfect saint of all time (or Satan on a dime) and it wouldn’t matter even then (don’t matter where you’ve been).
You better get to livin’ your own goddamn life, this could be the beginning of the end.

You’d be surprised by the ones who deal in lies. It ain’t the ones locked up, no it ain’t those guys with knives. Would you buy it if I said that it’s those preacher’s wives that scatter nasty rumors all the time?

You’d be surprised by the ones who deal in lies. It ain’t the ones locked up, no it ain’t those guys with knives. Would you buy it if I said that it’s those preacher’s wives that scatter nasty rumors all the time?

If you can survive with the person who’s inside, then let those perfect Christians speak their minds.
You’d be surprised by the ones who deal in lies. It ain’t the ones locked up, no it ain’t those guys with knives. Would you buy it if I said that it’s those preacher’s wives that scatter nasty rumors all the time?
Track Name: Josephine
A little girl with curls of gold and a heart that matched it too. I said, ‘Never, in my wildest dreams,’ now, I’m hopin’ the wild comes true. I wonder if it would be the worst thing to have a little Josephine.

I hope to God she gets my eyes, and a sweet Southern twang. I’d teach her to read and write, and just the right way to sing. I wonder if it would be the worst thing to have a little Josephine.

J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.
It’d be just him, and her, and me.
J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.

I know they’ll say ‘I told you so,’ and I know that they’ll make fun. And they’ll remind me of all my words, and say ’This has just begun. Honey, you’ll wonder if it would be the worst thing to have another Josephine.’

J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.
It’d be just him, and her, and me.
J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.

Baby girl, next thing you know, you’ll be right where Mama was. You’ll say, ‘I’m sorry, but that won’t be me. I ain’t got that Mother’s love.’ And then you’ll wonder if it would be the worst thing to have your own Josephine.

J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.
It’d be just him, and her, and me.
J-O-S-E-P-H-I-N-E.
It’d be just you, and he, and she.
Track Name: Cowboys & Proud
We don’t drive Chevys, don’t drink wine, and we know what good Country’s about.
We drink straight whiskey, ‘cause there ain’t time. Yeah, we are cowboys and proud.

We have three dozens guns, and that’s just countin’ what’s out in the barn.
We sure as hell respect our flag, and we wake up at the crack of dawn.

We give yellow roses to the girls we love. We say ‘Yes, ma’am’ and ‘No, sir.’ And we pray to our Father above.

We always go to church on Sundays, even if we drank through the week. Millennials call it ‘vintage’ but we know it’s just a damned antique.
The Lone Star State’s our home, so we know that freedom don’t come free. No cry babies, no wussies. Cowboys are what we will always be.

We give yellow roses to the girls we love. We say ‘Yes, ma’am’ and ‘No, sir.’ And we pray to our Father above.
We give yellow roses to the girls we love. We say ‘Yes, ma’am’ and ‘No, sir.’ And we pray to our Father above.
Track Name: The Preposition Game
Drivin’ all night long straight to Georgia. Hopin’ I find the answers to my unechoed prayers. I don’t know how long I’ve searched, don’t know how long it’s been. I just know that I’ve got to get back up again.

Left dusty trails and memories of all that happened or at least what could have been my way out of that town without a sound.

Oh, can you hear the wailin’ of those empty souls?
Oh, listen to the wailin’, listen to the cold.

When people ask I just say that I’m waiting. Always waiting hopeful sittin’ by the phone. Although foolish I may be, I hang on, just wait and see what might be of you and me once we’re free.

Oh, can you hear the wailin’ of those empty souls?
Oh, listen to the wailin’, listen to the cold.
Oh, I can hear the wailin’ of my own empty soul.
Oh, listen to the wailin’, listen to the cold.
Track Name: Country Music
Whiskey on my lips and your name on my tongue. In my heart I have a melody unsung. Singing ‘Georgia on my Mind’ and ‘Time after Time’ since I can’t find a key, and I can’t find no rhyme.
And on that ‘Red Dirt Road’ with good ole’ Brooks & Dunn, I learned to kiss, I learned to live, and march to the beat of my own drum.

I grew up on Tubb, and Garth, and Jerry too. Texans do it best, well that I always knew. Singing ‘Amazing Grace’ and ‘Folsom Prison Blues’; sometimes I’d sing ‘Keep off my Blue Suede Shoes.’
And when I first heard that song, I cried, and cried, and cried. I guess I knew then what I was meant to do for the rest of my life.

Whiskey on my lips, Country in my heart.
All I need’s the truth, three chords, and my guitar.
Whiskey on my lips, sing along with me.
Country music makes everything taste sweet.
Track Name: Jacksonvalley
It’s a place I done made up where I go at the end of long hard days like today. It has sweet iced tea rivers flowin’ every day and night… Well the Jacksonvalley fits me.

Memaw’s bakin’ her sweet cherry pie; and Pepaw’s whistlin’ hymns from long ago. Mama’s goin’ on and on, and the rest are singin’ songs… Well the Jacksonvalley fits me.

Good ole’ Country girl can’t survive without her waffles and her chicken fried. The most important thing of all, she eats okra and fried pickles, and says ‘ya’ll.’

There’s an ocean full of gravy just for Dad. If you’re lookin’ for him, you’ll know where he’s at. Keep that Dr. Pepper comin’ and playin’ Johnny Cash… Well the Jacksonvalley fits me.

Good ole’ Country girl can’t survive, she loves fried green tomatoes, can’t deny. She wears cowboy boots and overalls. She drives trucks, and she rides horses, and says ‘ya’ll.’

Good ole’ Country girl can’t survive, she loves fried green tomatoes, can’t deny. She wears cowboy boots and overalls. She drives trucks, and she rides horses, and says ‘ya’ll.’
Good ole’ Country girl can’t survive.
Track Name: México
It ain’t what you see in the movies. It ain’t all a desert and we don’t just eat beans and rice.
Es la tierra mojada de Guadalajara, el mole de Puebla, el día de muertos en Michoacán.
Alebrijes, sombreros de charro, abuelitas dentro del temazcal. Es la birria, el menudo en domingo pa’l crudo.

Y los viñedos de Baja. Los cenotes en Quintana Roo, y la Guelaguetza en Oaxaca. Es el cerro en San Pedro, Tequila el Maestro, y la peña de Bernal. Las barrancas del cobre en Chihuahua, la sal de gusano y el mezcal.

Mexico, born and raised on the greatest place on earth. We’ve got a way to say ‘I love you,’ but just a little less.
Our sky has the deepest colors, and our hearts play the sweetest tune.
Mexico will always be my home, my resting place.

Son las grutas de Tolantongo, los rebosos de Santa María del Río en San Luis Potosí. Son los tacos de lengua, herradura de Tepa y la forma de amar con frenesí. In Mexico, we live until we can’t breathe.

Mexico, born and raised on the greatest place on earth. We’ve got a way to say ‘I love you,’ but just a little less.
Our sky has the deepest colors, and our hearts play the sweetest tune.
Mexico, born and raised on the greatest place on earth. We’ve got a way to say ‘I love you,’ but just a little less.
Our sky has the deepest colors, and our hearts play the sweetest tune.
Mexico will always be my home, my resting place, October moon.
Track Name: Whiskey in the Dark (Acoustic)
There's a hole in my stomach where my heart used to be; 
It fell when I heard you say those words. 
No matter how much I love, no matter how much I care, I know you're not with me if I ain't there. 

Well, I ain't the first one in your life. 
I'm well aware before me it was your wife. 
So I'll drink this glass of whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect you are. 

I was fifteen when I met you and now I'm twenty-one. 
We've had our share of scrapes, burns, cuts, and scruffs. 
We've met each other's families, and we've met each other's friends, but maybe all this love just ain't enough. 

Well, I know your son is your whole life. But don't you think someday I could be your wife? 
For now, I'll drink this glass of whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect you are. 

You've got me feeling like a banjo... pickin' on my every string. 
I guess it doesn't count if it don't hurt. 
I've laid my cards down on the table, and now I'm laying down my head... praying that this mud won't turn to dirt. 

Well, baby, you are the best love of my life. Don't you wanna' be forever mine? 
Come and drink some whiskey in the dark, and think about how perfect we are. 
And think about how perfect we are.

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