by El Campo

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1. Gilt-Edge (4:47)
2. City on the Hill (Desaparecidos cover) (2:40)


released October 7, 2016

'Gilt-Edge' and 'City on the Hill' were recorded August 6-7, 2016, at a cabin in Welfare, Texas, by Lucas Oswald.

From the forthcoming full-length record, 'Boogedy Boogedy Boogedy Shoop,' now in progress, out January 2017.

El Campo are
Carlos Ernesto Cruz V - Bass Guitar, Vocals
Jerid Reed Morris - Vocals, Guitar
Nicholas Richman - Pedal Steel, Vocals
Rodolfo Villarreal III - Drums, Vocals

Additional guitar on 'Gilt-Edge' by D.T. Buffkin

'Gilt-Edge' written by Jerid Reed Morris.
Copyright 2016, Totally Motorized Music (BMI) - All rights reserved.

'City on the Hill' written by Desaparecidos, used by permission on this record.



all rights reserved


El Campo Austin, Texas

We’re proud of Texas. We're proud of tacos. We’ll play your town, if you’ll have us.

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Track Name: Gilt-Edge
This elder brother had a hide of stone
Turned to preaching despite his disposition
His little brother, the favored second son
Of an Ulster Irishman
One ordinary weekend, 1991
Had lit out drinking on a canyon run
Mirro canteen of Tokay wine
He left the road and took out
A dozen junipers or so
In his blue Eldorado
Eight months behind
First Bank of Goodnight
The old boy died
Just as he hit the bottom
Blood in his eyes, or red dashboard lights
Llano Estacado
You're sinking down
As like as not
Beloved son
Volunteer fireman
The blood in his eyes, the red dashboard lights
This elder brother made the drive alone
Came up through Sweetwater from San Antone
His Scofield bible's golden pages shone
Like a pearl-handled gun
Track Name: City on the Hill (Desaparecidos cover)
All the founding fathers
sowed their seeds into servant girls
All the godless heathens
had to leave to make a newer world
So we could live together in America
Justice is blind and so is love
All the stolen melodies
they played in the hit parade
All the borrowed spirituals
they feigned in the salad days
So we could sing together in America
The price of an anthem paid in blood
Bodies stacked like hundred dollar bills
To build that shining city on the hill
There’s no guilt, regret or shame
It just had to be this way
If you scheme and hustle just don’t get caught,
you've got to risk it all
Or hang on every number
they read off for the Powerball
We’ll all get rich together in America
Money is indifferent and so is love
Trash bags full of hundred dollar bills
We left that bombed-out city on the hill
Have to relocate the past
Because we are never going back