Formerly Famous
The new, four-song EP from Walter Wego featuring a quartet of ersatz songs guaranteed to inspire a certain mal de mer. Scroll down to listen.
Alaskan native, Walter Wego learned to play crude guitar from the one-armed first-mate aboard the fishing boat he worked on as a mackerel gutter after quitting school in the seventh-grade.

Aboard the Skinny Salmon, Walter Wego entertained crew members with old Eskimo folk songs and tunes he made up about his fellow crew mates until he was stabbed in the thigh after setting to music the tale of his bunkmate’s divorce and financial ruination.

Although this event left Walter with a decided limp he soon set off on a ten-year global trek across all seven continents from which he recently returned, formerly famous.
 
 




Available Now! • Produced by Dot Remlap

Jackson Pollock painted my dead brother
i saw him hanging there in dots and splatters,
Jackson you used too much red
now my brother's dead

my dead brother moved around a lot
Salvador Dali thought what he thought,
drew himself all inside out
i'll never figure it out

a door in the sky is open wide
museum walls drip him inside.
it's better to run than it is to hide
an artist left me here

before he died my brother sang to me
you never become what you want to be,
Keith Haring's blood on the tip of his tongue
Georgia O'Keeffe painted his lung

Pablo Picaso's cubist views
my brother's feet in my brother's shoes,
he's run out in the watercolor rain
screaming against the pain

a door in the sky is open wide
museum walls drip him inside,
it's better to run than it is to hide
an artist left me here


shoestring, the main thing, that you need,
is to get up, stand up, see what i see
shoestring, the second thing, you need to know,
is to go around, way around, and far below

angle your nose up toward the sun
stretch out your arms and fly,
angle your chin toward the dirt in the ground
fall down on your knees and die

shoelace, the disgrace, was letting go
your life, was nice, nice and slow
your time, and my time, touched the wall
for better, or worse, or nothing at all

angle your nose up toward the sun
stretch out your arms and fly,
angle your chin toward the dirt in the ground
fall down on your knees and die

threadbare, you know where, we put our hope
inside, of nursery rhymes, and cans of Coke,
i'll tell you secrets, i'll tell you lies
tell me something, that makes me cry

angle your nose up toward the sun
stretch out your arms and fly,
angle your chin toward the dirt in the ground
fall down on your knees and die


You took one dose of fun and you turned it around
when you opened up your mouth and you bled on the ground,
take the first ride out but close your eyes
i'm the cold, cold heart underneath your skies

someone new took the heat for all we think
sliced fingernail trails in her lawyers cheek,
my friends all said you was just a disease
when my fever broke, i dropped to my knees,
some sweet mothers hold my head in circulation,
i am filled with inspiration...

your walk through th valley just disgusted the sun
dreams wave you in to show you what you've done,
I'm gonna run away from you and change my name
the good can't leave until they're all the same

the ring on your finger is a sign of distress
you hustle dark figures in the wilderness,
with or without you gonna hunt it down
you choked the bride to be in her wedding gown,
two tight girls fill my breath with such frustration,
i am filled with inspiration...

the key to your pain is your bad attitude
5000 men photographed you in the nude,
sometimes sweat makes you move, makes you move to slow
two stiff drinks there ain't no place you won't go

burning in the trees is your source of pleasure
hidden in your chest is a maniac's treasure,
two rotten girls aren't part of the deal
one bad idea makes your tires squeal,
the teacher whispered in your ear a tempting invitation,
i am filled with inspiration...


somewhere there's a field of flowers,
a man stands in the middle and paints
somewhere there's a day of hours,
who do i have left to thank

simple things that once possessed me,
now i turn my back on them,
simple people that once blessed me
i was so much smarter then

falling off the river and...
swimming in the fire and...
dancing with tomorrow and,
kissing history

falling in the fire man,
dancing in the river and...
swimming to tomorrow and...
kissing history

the days don't know that they are numbered
the years don't know that they are marked,
seconds suck the life out of me
daylight always turns to dark

i remember the things you told me
about the pain that you've endured,
i misplaced the image you gave me
all the details time has blurred

going up the mountain and...
rushing to the writing and...
dimming all the lighting and,
kissing history

crawling toward the thunder and...
slipping past the turnstiles and...
running with the devil and,
kissing history.



 



Prior to embarking on his solo career Walter Wego
contributed to the international success of:
 
 
Amongst broken lawnmowers and a rusty Chevy Nova in an attached garage in the heart of the Northeast three adolescents banged out protest songs decrying everything from Nader boosting Republican victories to the difficulty in properly removing product labels from plastic items that always leave torn and ragged paper on
said item.
A seminal tribute band of sorts, each of Mink Freud's psychological ballads (sadly, the band was never properly credited with originating the psycho-ballad) borrowed phrasing from Ummagumma and lyrical content from The Interpretation of Dreams. During a tour of Vienna Walter dreamed that the band's drummer was his mother and the group broke up amid strange sexual tension.
Formed after a three car accident in the middle of a Philadelphia intersection where Walter's Moped was sandwiched between two uninsured motorists who happened to be on their way to Klezmer band practice. Instead, the trio wandered into a local pub with their instruments and Skip Intro, a band nearly famous for composing audio for Flash websites,
was formed.

© 1880 - WALTER WEGO, All Rights Reserved.
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