Laying Roots
David Walters-Lyrics, Vocals, Guitar, Bass,Banjo and Mandolin
Thor Gunderson-Drums, Washboard
Max Weirauch-Mandolin
Chris Skinner-Harmonica
Laying Roots: The Story Behind the Album 2016 and 2017 were a roller coaster. I got married in the spring of 2016, and even though we were broke, it felt like life had direction. But not long after, I was given an ultimatum: quit music and find a higher-paying career, or get divorced. I chose the latter—and let go of everything I thought I had. By the summer of 2017, I was divorced. I’d already been a single dad before the wedding, so that part didn’t change—but managing grief while trying to be a good parent left me floundering. I was drowning, aimless, unsure of how to move forward. Just when I thought I’d hit bottom, a lump formed in the back of my throat. Within a week, it grew to the point that I was struggling to breathe. I was broke, uninsured, and hesitant to go to the hospital—until my mom insisted. Doctors found a massive abscess on my tonsils and were shocked I’d waited so long. They wanted to send me to Howard Young in Minocqua by ambulance—or possibly life flight. I couldn’t afford either, so I signed a waiver releasing them of liability and had my mom drive me. It was terrifying. I’d already lost so much, and now I faced the real possibility of losing my voice—my identity, my one lifeline. When we got to Minocqua, we met Dr. Min. I was panicked and begged her to explore options other than surgery. She listened, truly listened. She consulted with the anesthesiologist, and they found a smaller breathing tube that might spare damage to my vocal cords. I’ll always be grateful they didn’t just bulldoze ahead. They put me under to try lancing the abscess, but it failed. The next morning, they removed my tonsils and adenoids. I spent a week in the hospital—foggy from Percocet and prednisone—but I clearly remember one thought: “If you have any voice left, record it before it’s too late.” That idea haunted me through my hospital stay and the month I spent recovering in my mom’s basement. When I finally returned home, I spent two months writing and gently coaxing my voice back into shape. Three months after surgery, I played my first show. It was rough—but my voice held. With every gig, it grew stronger. I knew I couldn’t afford studio time, so I started teaching myself how to record. I got a computer, software, and a new credit card—and quickly realized I had no clue what I was doing. Through trial and error, I probably recorded three albums’ worth of music—only a few of those songs were even listenable. But friends stepped in. John Strauss loaned me his dad’s banjo. Barry Hopkins gave me his dad’s bass. Those sounds helped shape the album. Eventually, I recorded guitar, bass, banjo, and mandolin parts in a corner of my apartment. Old Pine Road has seen several percussionists over the years, but only one drummer: Thor Gunderson. We met through my then-girlfriend Sarah (a huge help in finishing the album). When my previous drummer bailed, Thor saved the day. We recorded most of the drums in his living room, with one additional session at Sean Burgess’s Copper Art Studio. Chris Skinner, another key contributor to Old Pine Road, added all the harmonica you hear on the album. Buck Kipper played saxophone on the final track—we got it in one take. Toward the end of the recording process, I met Max Weirauch at Jackpine. We’re very different people, but that’s made us great business partners and friends. Max added backing vocals and re-tracked much of the mandolin. Most of the lead and rhythm parts you hear are his—my mandolin playing tends to stay buried. With the instrumentation done, I still had one more challenge: vocals. Street construction outside my apartment made daytime recording impossible, and nighttime sessions would’ve been rude. So I set up in my mom’s garden shed and locked myself in there for three days to finish all the vocals. Now that I had the album, I had to figure out how to release it. I had zero experience. But I realized the music, like me, was a work in progress—and it made sense to let the records reflect that journey. That’s why I named the first album Laying Roots, followed by Branching Out, with a third title yet to be revealed. Each album is meant to build upon the last—growing in sound, confidence, and clarity. The artwork I painted was inspired by Baldy Hill, the highest point in Langlade County. I grew up near there and spent countless hours exploring that hill. I still picture it when I’m trying to fall asleep. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Thanks for caring about something that started as a little kid’s pipe dream. I never imagined strangers might care about my life or my music. I’ve never thought very highly of myself—but the fact that others might… well, that means the world. Thank you for the life, the love, and the chance to fail at something so wonderful.
1 / When All is said and done
D.Walters
Well it’s been a long five years, still trying to put together just how I’m here today. Wherever that may be.
Empty bottles and broken hearts, spilling secrets in the dark, we were young and we were full of rage,
And we can fight it all we want, but there comes a time to turn the page.
Walking down these streets at night, memories washed around by these god damn streetlights.
Wondering if I’d go back, even if I could.
Dreaming ‘bout them days to come, hopin someday I could be someone, so you’d have to hear my name.
But when I wake up, I’m back to dreaming again.
Well maybe someday I will see you again, when the years have had their way and your hair begins to grey.
Well maybe someday I could be your everything.
Heaven only knows what tomorrow may bring.
Well seasons come and seasons go, that sun sure loves to melt the snow,
Reminding us all that this earth ain’t standing still.
Memory fades and dreams they try to replace all these mistakes I’ve made in time.
But darling you should know, they ain’t replacing you,
But at the end of the day, that’s all that’s left to do
2 / hemlocks
D.Walters
Would you wittle the days away with me, down by the riverside?
We can play hide and seek, pretend the world’s not trying to keep us down.
Can’t a soul linger a while in the hemlock stand when the sun goes down?
Can we find the time to take it all before this life makes you do it all over again?
Hummingbirds and fireflies do a dance for your bloodshot eyes.
Thank God for the birds and bees and the chance to make sweet melodies with you.
I’m a mile high and a dollar short, and there ain’t a drop of gas left in my tank,
But I know a place where the river churns, and the fire there it burns just for you.
3 / summer sun
D.Walters
Summer sun is setting in, there’s hints of greenness on the wind, but I like it better in shade.
Grass growing beneath my feet, whispering words I cannot repeat, waving from the ground.
Songbirds begin to sing a melody most haunting. I try to hum along,
Trying to pick notes off the ground. It’s like a good book you just can’t put down, until you find the end.
Creatures nestled in the leaves, I can feel their eyes watching me, like a thousand empty seats.
Blueberries and honeybees, desolation can taste so sweet as they dance around my tongue.
Trees stretch up to the sky, and we sit down here and wonder why, what lies beyond our reach?
Endless skies with waves of clouds, drone and dull and beautiful, timeless as the days.
Though many souls have walked here before me, she’s been the heart in all of their stories,
Like the muse you search for but never find.
And someday when I meet my end, she’ll take in a new generation,
And the songbirds will sing their songs.
4 / reminder
D.Walters
I’ve been spending all my time, trying to find the words to get me through to you.
I’ve been praying all my days to find the phrase to get me through to you.
I can’t help but act a fool, when you look at me the way that you do.
So I wrote you this song to hum along to, all just for you.
And I know you’ve been hurt so many times before,
But I know I won’t do you that way. Not one day will go by, whether I’m near or far,
Where you don’t know how loved you are, cause honey,
You’ve got my heart on a string, and oh, I’ll follow you endlessly.
Well, I’ve seen my share of wonder, but nothing draws me like you do.
And I’ve felt my share of thunder, but nothing shakes me like you do.
And those storms will keep coming, but we’ll keep pulling through.
They’ll try to pull us under, but I’ll swim right back to you.
And I know you’ve been hurt so many times before,
But I know I won’t do you that way. Not one day will go by, whether I’m near or far,
Where you don’t know how loved you are, cause honey,
You’ve got my heart on a string, and oh, I’ll follow you endlessly.
5 / vagabond
D.Walters
This rhyme ain’t got no reason, these lights don’t hide this town.
She’s the flavor of the season, I’m the fool she drags around.
And these days I ain’t myself, like a vagabond on the road,
I keep losing my step, I think you already knooowwwwww.
And I don’t quite mind if you don’t find the meaning in my ways.
If it were up to me, I’d make you see a little more every day.
And oooooooooo I could only hope to be,
With yooooouuu—just you wait and see.
The sun don’t set round here, the days just linger on.
We ain’t got no place to be, no place we haven’t gone.
These days I ain’t myself, like a man without a home.
I ain’t got time to sleep, I ain’t got time at all.
6 / cheap cigars
D.Walters
I’ve been putting in hours at the plant just trying to stay ahead.
Clock in, clock out—overtime is it 5pm yet?
Payday can’t come soon enough, see I’m fiending for that bread.
You see, I’ve got needs and so does she, and I intend to see them met.
I’ve got PBR in the cooler, an old fashioned in my hand.
There’s margaritas in the blender, rolling papers on the stand.
I’ve got 7 days til my rent is due—I hope I come through by then.
And if I don’t, just you let me sleep—at least it’s warm in my bed.
No cheap cigars and 90s cars don’t cost much at all.
Ain’t got no 401k, but I got this shot of cocaine and 12 Pall Malls.
7 /home is the sailor
D.Walters
We’re heading north with the rising sun,
Breaking crimson waves against our bow.
The ship, she rocks with the rolling swells,
The breeze, she roars and fills our sails.
Captain’s voice cuts through the mist:
“Hold steady, boy, and keep your wits.
With a touch of luck, we’ll hold our own
Against the blue above and the blue below.”
And if these lonely waters lay me to rest,
Let the words on my stone read like this:
“Here he lies where he longed to be.
Home is the sailor, home from sea.”
There’s hardly a finer place for the wandering mind,
You can leave your troubles on the shoreline.
Over the railing, a sea so cold,
What wonders does that darkness hold?
And if these lonely waters lay me to rest,
Let the words on my stone read like this:
“Here he lies where he longed to be.
Home is the sailor, home from sea.”
8 /paper hands
D.Walters
Well, you don’t play with fire if you got paper hands. Your burns run deeper than the average man, you know.You cannot lie to yourself.
Well, a dime and a nickel can’t buy you much.Gotta work half the day just to buy your lunch,But son, listen, you gotta earn that sweat on your brow.
Keep your head up, eyes straight. Hear what I say.Mind what I tell you. Don’t you dare look away.Keep this up, and I’ll take you straight to the top.
And I hear all that you’re trying to say,
But it don’t mean a thing to me,
I’d throw it all away for just one more day,
Soaking in her eyes.And I swear I’ve never seen something so beautiful,Something so mean.
Well, metaphors give a story color to the sadness,A little alliteration gives a method to the madness.Tongue tied and twisted, it seems my intuition’sGot my dreams bursting at the seams.
Perception is reality, the rest is a fallacy,
Lies we tell ourselves to help us cope with humanity.But I’m not scared to die no more.
I just wanna know what’s behind that door,
Cause I’d throw it all away for just one more day,Soaking in her eyes.
I swear I’ve never seen something so beautiful,Something so mean.
Branching Out
David Walters-Lyrics, Vocals, Guitar,Banjo
Max Weirauch-Lyrics,Mandolin,Harmonica,Whistler
Paul LaFourest-Lyrics,Upright Bass
Scott Larock-Cajon,Djembe,Percussion
Chris Skinner-Harmonica
Nick De Jong and Doug Klein-Backup Vocals
Branching Out : The Story behind the Album I had started working on Branching Out well before releasing Laying Roots. It took me so long to finalize and navigate that release that at least a third of Branching Out was already written by the time Laying Roots came out. It was a far different—and better—experience than Laying Roots, which, start to finish, took over four years. First, I bought my grandparents’ house and was able to turn the second floor into a recording studio, multiplying the space we had by about 20 times. Now, I could afford to leave a guitar laying out between takes and didn’t have to worry if the neighbors were watching Die Hard too loud. Second, Max coming aboard changed everything. OPRB has had many different sounds, looks, and members over the years, but Max was the first person to fully jump on board and make OPRB his primary career. It gave us opportunities that hadn’t existed before—to sharpen our sound and our writing. I’d had the general idea for “Musky,” and Max and I used a three-hour drive to Munising to fill in some of the final story points. We used a post-show campfire to hone the lyrics even more. For how long the song is, the time we spent writing it seemed to go by fast. Being able to share these experiences and opportunities with one of my best friends has made time, in general, go by fast. We talked a lot about finding a permanent third leg to our trio. It’s a tall order—for how rewarding and fun a good show can be, there are plenty of not-fun aspects, and a lot of real work and time spent away from the things and people you love. It’s tough to have a lot of commitments in life, and OPRB is just that. We hoped and prayed for a bass player. Not only did we get one—but we got another best friend in the process. Paul LaFourest saw us playing up in Ironwood and approached us about jamming along. Three years later, we’re jamming stronger than ever. With a steady rhythm to his playing and an angelic voice to boot, we finally had our three-legged dog. Paul also had schooling in sound engineering, which had a dramatic impact on the music, the mastering, and every aspect of our recording. He was integral in putting some of the final touches on our arrangements, and his addition of harmonies is, for me, the most stark difference between the two albums. The three of us finished everything compositionally by November of 2023. We stayed for a full week at my house (which was a lot of fun) and laid down all the rhythm and scratch vocal tracks, then filled in the pieces as we went. Chris Skinner came to the studio for a day while we were recording and threw down some harmonica on a couple of tracks. I hope to have him on every album ’til I die. And Scott LaRock—who’s drummed off and on with me since he was 15 years old—came in for a day to track all the percussion, mostly in one take. We did make a mistake by not finishing mixing by spring. Once summer hit, we got pushed back quite a bit. It did give us more time to listen and tinker, but—you live, you learn. Again, if you’ve read this far… I commend you and bestow upon you the title of Knight of the Old Pine Road or Warrior Princess of the Old Pine Road. You may only choose one of the two. Now… have you made up your mind? …Please hurry, I do have other stuff to do. …Wonderful. Thank you so much again. Can’t wait to write all this out again for the next album, which is under construction as we speak. Much love. David W
1 / shades
D.Walters
I’m none the wiser to the sunrise creeping through the shades.
Oh won’t you bury me in sheets of linen, Let me see how your body lays?
And when the dawn spreads its wings, to carry you away……
Would you hold me close one more time?….
Can you take us far from here, to the depths of the sea?
Where the ghost of my former self is forever out of reach.
Well I’ll play you songs to ease your mind, to help you move your feet..
If you’d just hold me close one more time….
Let me see your eyes, with mine my love, let me paint you with the stars…
And we could reignite, the fire you left burning in the dark…
Oh will these worlds collide? Celestial bodies falling to the ground….
In the dead of night…I’ll be there when these walls come crashing down….
Maybe it’s not the time or place, maybe I’m not the one.
And maybe we should face the music, cut all ties and run.
But the heart wants what it wants, with no regard for me…
So let me hold you close one more time…
Let me see your eyes, with mine my love, let me paint you with the stars…
And we could reignite, the fire you left burning in the dark…
Oh will these worlds collide? Celestial bodies falling to the ground….
In the dead of night…I’ll be there when these walls come crashing down….
2 / vindication
D.Walters
For forty days and forty nights I stood in the rain, seeking vindication for my sins I laid bare in the middle of the room, at the edge of my mind, take a little walk with me everything will be alright.
Well it’s that old time religion, it’s that burn in your soul. It’s the death of your summer beckoning the cold. You can take what they offer, you can drink it down deep, you can make your fucking bed and lay your head to sleep…
But I got 1, 2, 3, 4 I don’t know, how many goddamn hours I got left to go,
Til I burn it all down, dust to dust, and return from whence I came to admire the luster….
Well tell me darling have you heard the good news? Our path is predetermined there’s no need to choose…the writings on the wall these words are etched in stone, now drink from the blood of the sick and the poor…
But I got 1, 2, 3, 4 I don’t know, how many goddamn hours I got left to go,
Til I burn it all down, dust to dust, and return from whence I came to admire the luster….
3 / higher than a kite
D.Walters
Well I’ve been working on finding myself, and failing along the way. Tripping over my own damn thoughts, holding on to my mistakes. I’m letting go of this anchor, I’m heading for open seas, and if those ghosts come looking, good luck finding me….
Cause I’ll be higher than a kite, cruising through the sky, lord please don't stop me now, I’m sure we can work things out, cause I’ve been kind when I can, and sorry when I can’t, despite this rage inside my bones I try to be a better man.
For years I did wander through a shady grove or two, trying to find the reason I kept on hurting you, I looked all around, yes I searched deep and wide, but I never saw the reason until looked inside. That rage that I felt, for letting bridges burn, ate away the illusion of peace I never earned. And that fire is consuming, always raging in my soul, those flames may try to get me, at least this time I know….
That I’ll be higher than a kite, cruising through the sky, lord please don't stop me now, I’m sure we can work things out, cause I’ve been kind when I can, and sorry when I can’t, despite this rage inside my bones I try to be a better man.
4 / musky
D.Walters&m.weirauch
We’ll gather round ere folks, let me take ya back,
To that old Wisconsin River, land of the lumberjack.
Them woods they got eyes, and these waters have teeth,
Im gonna spin ya a little yarn about the monsters lurking beneath.
Twas the middle of 1862, the air was hot with summer storms.
There’s a small town up in the woods not far from the shore
Where Mr. Otis Malcom wed his lovely bride,
Oh beautiful Ophelia, she’s the apple of his eye.
So Mr Malcom he worked hard to buy that little piece of land,
On the North side of town around the river bend.
Otis set to building a home for his beloved new bride,
Little did he know he was building to demise.
The Ojibwe tried to warn him, “Oh Otis you must leave,
For a Spirit lies in the depth that’ll bring you tragedy.
A maashkinoozhe of proportions you can hardly understand,
A musky big enough to swallow a full grown man…”
Well Otis didn’t heed their warning, no he pressed on.
Hell bent on building his home with lovey Ophelia.
So he tinkered and he toiled away the days chasing down those dreams,
Ignorant to the nightmare submerged in the streams.
Ophelia she spent her time pondering at the stars,
Singing hymns to the moon with the cricket and the frogs.
The warmth of day seeped into night and she fancied herself a dip,
So she kissed Mr Malcom goodnight and headed for the crick.
The half moon it was glistening behind a cattail silhouette,
As Ophelia dipped her toes in the water, cool and wet.
She pulled a breath into in her lungs as she dove into the mist,
Onwards to eternity into that black abyss.
Ophelia didn’t notice but concealed by the fog,
A creature approached from behind her as big as a log,
And before our darling bride even had a chance to scream,
The ugliest Musky there ever was pulled her into the the deep.
Otis Malcom was over come with a deep and dark despair.
All he had and hoped to be, vanished in thin air.
So he laid down his weary head and wept for 3 days straight,
Through the sweat and tears He hatched that plan that sealed his fate.
So the evenin and they laid Ophelia to rest,
Mr Malcom headed North to the mines as the summer sun set.
Folks weren’t sure where poor Otis went, and there was no way they could know,
That Madman would soon return a bag of dynamite in tow.
Well a wicked gust of howling wind shook the towering pines,
As Otis Malcom and his righteous fury made for the shoreline.
The town they tried to stop him but their please fell on deaf ears,
As Mr Malcom launched his boat and his out line disappeared.
The waves began to build, into mountains of emerald Green,
As the sky turned a sickly maroon and the rain poured out in sheets.
And as the Lightning filled the sky with violent bursts of gold,
A shadow appeared on the horizon and Otis blood ran cold.
His scream rang to the Gods, “I curse you foul beast,
I’ve come to send you back to hell for taking her from me.”
The surface churned as the maashkinoozhe hurtled towards the boat,
While Otis calmly struck a match and huddled against the storm.
He whispered a prayer into the dark and tightly gripped the fuse,
Then let the flame bridge the gap, as he peered out at the moon.
In its light he could still see her face, that smile piercing through time,
But the clouds resurge and the seas erupt into flashes of crimson and white.
And from the void our beast emerges flashing its 800 teeth,
Its scales as dark as the dismal currents flowing through the deep.
Otis locked eyes with the beast and a smile crept over his face,
As the last bit of fuse vanished and his Unholy vengeance took place…
When the sunrises on the Wisconsin river, and it pierces through the haze,
Listen close you just might here Otis Malcom’s prayers,
But heed my warning friend it will serve you well,
Be cautious in that place, and always be mindful
Of the monsters lurkin in our streams and lakes
5 / Where'd your love go?
m. Weirauch
Where’d your love go
Did it disappear?
Did you tear it off for some far off fear?
Is it sitting in the sun somewhere relaxing without a care?Where'd your love go?
Prolly on mountain tip, cool cool water buddy have a sip, Is it in the forest in the summertime? In a place where you don't have to scrape a dime...
Wherever it is I hope it’s free
I hope it’s wild
I hope you’re doing it in style
I know you will
Where’d your love go
Swimming in the ocean deep?
Or is it laying in bed finally getting some sleep?
It’s probably warm in the desert sun
Not having to worry about jumping the gun
Where'd your love go?
You used to walk with me, everywhere we went there's always something to see. Someday we could settle back, let our hearts smile step out of the black.....
Wherever it is I hope it’s free
I hope it’s wild
I hope you’re doing it in style
I know you will
I know you will
Where’d your love go
Honey did you let it fly?
On the side of the road with the lights flashing by?
Or is it in a mansion on the hill
Not having to worry bout paying a bill?
Where’d your love go
Did you let it bend?
Always knew things would end up right in the end
Did you tie it down to a post?
Just remember dear ill always love you the most
Wherever it is I hope it’s free
I hope it’s wild
I hope you’re doing it in style
I know you will
I know you will
6 / long life without me
p. lafourest
When I go
Would it be too much to ask you not to grieve?
If you’re looking out over some sea
Could you say you wouldn’t think of me?
When I go
Could I ask you not to mourn?
There isn’t much in life that’s sure
But I know that it should not be lived alone
Go live a long life without me
Live a long life without me
Live a long life without me in your heart
Go live a long life without me
Live a long life without me
Live a long life without me in your heart
Tell me now
For we don’t know what these days will hold
We may or we may not grow old
So say your heart could find itself a home
Go live a long life without me
Live a long life without me
Live a long life without me in your heart
Go live a long life without me
Live a long life without me
Live a long life without me in your heart
When I go
Would it be too much to ask you not to grieve?
You may or you may not believe
We are not so defined by the people that we need…
7 / find your way
d.Walters&p. lafourest
If these woods could talk, would you sit and listen? To the tales of those who came before us in the virgin pine with the river glistening.
Sit on back my friend let’s share some stories, about butterflies and days gone by on a sunset hill of glory….
And when I’m feeling down, you’re the best damn cure I’ve found……
Talk a walk with me, let the Old Pine Road set you free, you can follow your feet to the sweet summer sounds.
Get lost and find your way, let go yesterday don’t let them echoes from the past keep you down…..
8 / traveler
d.Walters
I’ma traveler my friend I’ve been there and back and back again I’ve seen the spaces between. I’ve sold my soul for some shelter from the cold But these treasures don’t mean anything
How far have we to go before we reach the brink? Will you remember my face then? Will all this time we’ve spent screaming at the dark pull us back from the edge?
How long must we hold on
To a life, that’s not our own?
And will you know the path you tread?
Will you find your way when the levy gives?
Time and space are relative, shaped by the curve of the lens. All we know has been placed before our eyes but we still don’t know how it ends.
How long must we hold on
To a life, that’s not our own?
And will you know the path you tread?
Will you find your way when the levy gives?
10 / Madman's philosophy
d.Walters&p.lafourest
Baptized in the lies
Hypnotized by the words that you say,
Set fire to the ground pretty baby don’t you let it slip away
I’ve seen the worst of things, I’ve tasted my sins.
You can put me under ground but I’ll come back again.
Shaaaame is the name of the game,
You don’t ride for free you gotta pay to play
Pound it til those knuckles bleed, that’s the madman philosophy.
Greed cripples the weak caught up in the chase everyday of the week,
Filling their veins with green and gold the kind of things that drain your soul.
I’ve been on fire baby watch me as I burn,
Brimstone and gasoline make the world turn.
I’ve told you a million times but I guess you never learn,
In one ear out the other speaking with the dirt
It's not about what ya need, its bout what ya got...
11 / Mice and mycelium
d.Walters
Despite the erratic nature of things
I’ll find some calm in the storm.
When all that you know and the seeds that you’ve grown stretch out for the sun.
And the rivers are calling, oh hurry my darling find some rest in my song.
I’ll carry you home you don’t have to be alone, let me stay just a little while more.
Mice and Mycelium
Hide in the ceiling seeking shelter from the cold.
I can relate though I’d rather escape but it’s so hard to leave your home.
When this boulder’s rotation, and relentless gravitation away from the life the warmth gives.
Leads one to believe that we’re all hopelessly dancing towards the edge of the abyss.
Well make haste my dear the end is drawing near
And I’ve no more words for my tune,
So let’s find a place at the edges of space to slumber until June.
Then we’ll pirouette through the streets of Marquette or go howling at the moon.
I’ll write you love songs as we go along doing what lovers do.
