Jordan Robert Kirk

Below is a short track-by-track analysis of my new album "Listening for the Sound" . I'd like to give a very special thanks to Terry and Martha Kirk, my parents, Mary and Jim Parkhill, dear friends, and the Coyote Store in Gail, TX for helping to fund this endeavor. My producer, Scott Faris, for working so hard in bringing this thing home from the studio. My band and all musicians who played on this, ya'll did above and beyond what I expected, and can't thank you enough. And lastly, my wife, best friend, and my rock when I doubt. She brings me to Jesus and keeps that Bible on the dash for me and for our family, so to speak. I love you Hartlee Kirk. 

Produced by: Scott Faris 
Recorded and Mixed at: The Amusement Park Recording Studio, Lubbock, TX 
Engineered by: Scott Faris, Gunner Driver, Christopher Reynolds, and Derek Bohl 
Mixed by: Scott Faris, Gunner Driver, and Christopher Reynolds 
Mastered by: Fred Kavorkian, Kevorkian Mastering, NYC 
All songs written by Jordan Robert Kirk, with the exception of "Amazing Grace" which is in the public domain.

Musicians: Jordan Robert Kirk - acoustic guitar, vocals, fiddle | Shiloh Boling - acoustic guitar, vocals | Marty Gilbert - banjo, organ, piano | Jack Adcock - bass | Michael Vann - drums | Sean Frankhouser - bass, upright bass | Cameron Baker - acoustic guitar, vocals | Steve Williams - dobro 
Kyle Aaron - fiddle | Lance Fry - electric guitar | Russell Jones - drums | Hank Howard - vocals | Gunner Driver - percussion

This is a song about a modern day cotton farmer, inspired by my father and grandfather.

"The price of cotton's just hanging around, one or two cents shy of 40 cents a pound. I lay awake at night just listening for the sound, of a knock at the door - the bank wants this ground. 

I pop off at the mouth when I'm feeling stuck, Lord has a plan but I blame my luck. Now I'm outside this bar face down in the muck. Drank my last dollar, Lord take this cup. Hmm hmm Lord take this cup.  

The price of cotton's just hanging around, one or two cents shy of 40 cents a pound. I lay awake at night just listening for the sound, of a knock at the door - the bank wants this ground. 

The map on my hands tells no lies, calloused and scarred and sloughed off hide. Remnants of pain in between the lines. But I gotta keep going, no time to cry, Lord there ain't even time to die.  

The price of cotton's just hanging around, one or two cents shy of 40 cents a pound. I lay awake at night just listening for the sound, of a knock at the door - the bank wants this ground. 

I can make a hand daddy told me so. But he's in the ground pushing up sorghum and oats. Now the well's pumping sand and my spirits are low, and doubts the only thing 'round here that grows.  

Well the price of living's going up in this town, it's hell on earth, no need to go down. I lay awake at night just listening for the sound, of a knock at the door the bank wants this ground. "

This is based on a true story in my family, centered around my grandpa, who quit school in 8th grade to take over the family farm because his dad left the family, never to return.  

"I'm a little late to the game to get in cheap. Couple hundred years and I’d’ve had it for free, with a gun on my belt and rolled up sleeves. But I can't blame Papa cause we had to eat.  

Chorus  
Tell me what part of your soul you'd sell, when there ain't no water in your wishing well? Papa run off and we had a dry spell. I hope we make it but I just can't tell. 

This land is your land and this land is my land. But now the highway's coming through thanks to Uncle Sam. Work done by God and my two hands, now it's pavement on the map and I don't understand.  

So tell me what part of your soul you'd sell, when there ain't no water in your wishing well? Papa's gone now, probably to hell. If he ain't there yet then I wish him well 

This place can be broken, it can be sold. Ain't it worth more than the dollars you hold? Many a man would give their weight in gold. For part of this land, your heart and your soul. 

So tell me what part of your soul you'd sell, when there ain't no water in your wishing well? Papa's gone now, probably to hell. If he ain't there yet then I wish him well 

I hope we make it but I just can’t tell"

West Texas Love story based on real events

"Well Hi Ho Rita, my senorita, standing outside the grocery store. She had a hard time, just trying to make a dime, she caught my eye and I wanted some more. 

My first word was cotton, hers was algodon, we grew up doing the same thing but her daddy swam the Rio. I don't know what she ever saw in me, but boy I tell ya what her kisses are so sweet. (repeat chorus) 

Well there I was a-grocery shopping off of highway 114, replenishing my month's supply of hard liquor and saltines. She was selling peaches, and I'd been a long time alone. Well I bought every peach from that woman and took 'em all back home. (repeat chorus) 

Last year Becky left me, some hombre out in Reno, she stole my car and broke my heart, but I still wear my ring though. Rita is a Mexican, I'm gone make her a Texan, saddle her up with this ole gringo. 

Well Hi Ho Rita, my senorita, standing outside the grocery store. She had a hard time, just trying to make a dime, but she's mine forever and mi amor."

Story about a man crying out to a God he no longer believes in

"I got a bible on the dash, ashtray full of ash, and a fifth of a fifth underneath the seat. I'm a walking contradiction, ain't got no conviction, except twisting off 'til I'm high enough where I can't even see. 

I gave up trying long ago, hell even if I saw the holes in his hands, or in his feet. Lord I carry a heavy load, come save my soul, but face-to-face I still might not believe. 

One night in September, a late rain in the summer, I rounded a curve and that truck never saw me. I walked away without a scratch, just an old book off the dash, but the Lord took my chevy and my wife away from me. 
(repeat chorus) 

I found Jesus on the side of the road, looking for work to send money back home to Mexico. Gave him a dollar for my sake, so I could say I did a little to ease his pain.  
(repeat chorus) 

I got her bible on the dash, ashtray full of ash, and a handle on Jim Beam but not my sanity. I'm a walking contradiction, ain't got no conviction, except twisting off 'til I'm high enough where I can't even see. "