At the beginning of last year, Grover and his bandmate Josh Certo began mapping out songs for what was to be Grover’s fifth album. The intent was to use the recordings as a foundation on which their band, Grover Anderson & the Lampoliers, could collaborate through a busy year of gigs and rehearsals. When lockdown began, their project quickly changed directions—Grover, Josh, Marshall Henry, and Anthony Delaney recorded their parts in home studios, sharing tracks virtually to create a fundamentally different album.

All the Lies That I Have Told is a collection of small town stories. Written around a high-country campfire, in a Texas Uber, and amidst Wikipedia deep dives, the songs dig a little deeper than traditional rural clichés. “From a Golden State” is a diary entry from a metropolitan teen forced to move to a place where everyone already knows your story. The duet “Willie Nelson” follows recent divorcees prepping their answers for the same questions that everyone’s asking. Inspired by true crime stories from early 1900’s America, “Tom Horn” and “Man from the Train” explore the impact of heinous villainy on tight-knit communities. It’s not all dark and gloomy—“Backseat Chorus” developed on the twice-daily drive out a one-and-a-half lane road into town, and “Icarus” reflects on a family’s perseverance through tragedy. Two songs, considering the emptiness of infidelity (“In the Nighttime”) and the impact that free two-day shipping has on the worker who makes it possible (is “Amazon Song” too stark a title?), along with a honky-tonk cover of Swedish murder ballad “The Gardener”, round out the album.

The narrative lyrical content in All the Lies That I Have Told stands in stark contrast to Grover’s autobiographical release The Frontman, but shares the genre-hopping breadth of 2014’s The Optimist, from which “Little Spoon”, “Grindstone”, and “Sick of You” continue to attract new fans. Those songs and others, like the 2011 surf duet “Moonshine”, have been streamed by over 650k people on Spotify and have found homes in 38k listener-made playlists. The variety of bands that he’s opened for (including America, Matt Stell, Birds of Chicago, and The Charlie Daniels Band) reflects the crossover appeal of his music, which folks have labelled folk, country, rock, and Americana. Grover doesn’t really care what folks call it as long as it moves them.

Produced by Grover Anderson & Marshall Henry
except “From a Golden State” Produced by Kiel Williams

Lyrics by Grover Anderson (ASCAP)
Music by Grover Anderson, Josh Certo,
Anthony Delaney, & Marshall Henry, except
“Backseat Chorus” Music by Grover Anderson & Marshall Henry
“From a Golden State” Music by Grover Anderson & Kiel Williams
“The Gardener” Music & Lyrics by Kristian Matsson
“Icarus” Music by Marshall Henry & Josh Certo

Performed by:
Grover Anderson — Vocals, Acoustic Guitar
Josh Certo — Drums, Percussion
Anthony Delaney — Bass
Marshall Henry — Guitars, Pianos, Synths
Ukulele (“Backseat Chorus”), Violin (“Man from the Train”)

Featuring:
Kiel Williams – Electric Guitar (“From a Golden State” & “Tom Horn”)
Cello, Synths, & Keys (“From a Golden State”)
Pedal Steel (“Backseat Chorus” & “From a Golden State”)
Kelly Jane – Vocals (“Willie Nelson”)
Graham Richards – Piano & Organ (“The Gardener”)
Jimbo Scott – Backing Vocals (“In the Nighttime”)
Austin Broder – Violin (“From a Golden State”)
Will Allen, Jr. – Horns (“Backseat Chorus”)

Mixed by Michael Clebanoff
except “From a Golden State” Mixed by Kiel Williams
Mastered by Richard Dodd

“Song after song, small town memory after literate anecdote, personal insight to universal truth—the music kept coming, sounding better with each song. I don’t typically listen to ‘singer-songwriter’ music terribly loud—usually, it doesn’t need or benefit from it. This album does—Steve Earle’s Dukes circa Copperhead Road didn’t sound much bigger than this quartet from the Sierra Nevada community of Murphys, CA.”
—Donald Teplyske, Fervor Coulee

“A remarkable lyricist…With each new release, Anderson’s brand of Americana keeps getting better and better: the music may be gentle, but the lyrics are sharp-eyed.”
—Rachel Cholst, Adobe & Teardrops

“The storytelling is impeccable.”
—Stephen Carradini, Independent Clauses

lamp•o•lier | læm′pǝ′lɪɚ
noun | origin: 19th Cent. | colloquial
1. one who maintains street lamps
2. apocryphal demon; personification of avarice
3. member of Grover Anderson’s band

Josh Certo (drums) has been the band’s primary musical leader since 2013, and teaches elementary school when he’s not solving all the world’s problems.

Marshall Henry (lead guitar) joined the band in 2016 and, on the side, builds and sells machines that synthesize DNA. Really.

Anthony Delaney (bass) started playing with Grover in early 2018. When not Lampoliering, Anthony leads The Murphys Jazz All Stars and also finds time to run the Murphys Irish Pub with his wife Jessica.

Willie Nelson

I’m moving on, but I’ll still think about you
When I hear Willie Nelson sing of embers in the rain
And I was wrong, but what good are convictions when you’re
Grasping at the fire pretending you don’t feel the pain?
It’s such a shame, shame

I’ve got a cup. I fill it up with whiskey
In the hopes of drowning out your memory
And oh it works, especially in the morning when
The bright lights and the headaches and your face are all I see
I tell my friends, they oughta set me up, and when I stumble into church
I lie, pretend I’m finding peace
I got a line. I practice it in private,
So when people ask about me I’ll somehow make them believe

I’m moving on, but I’ll still think about you
When I hear Willie Nelson sing of embers in the rain
And I was wrong, but what good are convictions when you’re
Grasping at the fire pretending you don’t feel the pain?
It’s such a shame, shame

I take it slow, cause sympathy’s a virtue
That I ain’t got the energy to fake
I know in time, I’ll feel awful stupid
For this helpless psyche I can’t seem to break
I tell my friends, that they should just be patient
Let me get over my grief, I know my heart’ll heal this ache
I’ve heard your line, and I know that it’s bullshit
But I’m happy that you’re tryin’ cause Lord knows I can relate

I’m moving on, but I’ll still think about you
When I hear Willie Nelson sing of embers in the rain
And I was wrong, but what good are convictions when you’re
Grasping at the fire pretending you don’t feel the pain?
It’s such a shame, shame

I’ll hit rock bottom soon enough then come back better than before
And when I’m finally tired of being tough the next love will be so much more

But for now I’m moving on, but I’ll still think about you
When I hear Willie Nelson sing of embers in the rain
And I was wrong, but what good are convictions when you’re
Grasping at the fire pretending you don’t feel the pain?
It’s such a shame, shame

Backseat Chorus

I almost forgot about the time we saw Old Faithful
We laughed about the sign that showed a person burning up
What I’d give to take another drive across Montana
Sing my songs for real cowboys, selling CDs from the trunk

We’ve got fewer options now, there’s so much more to do
Back then all we needed was time enough to

Make a life worth living
Let distractions stay distractions
Temptation can be taxing
Don’t you give it all your time
Go swimming
In the lakes and in the rivers
With lovers, friends, and sinners
In sunlight and moonshine
Live in the city
You don’t have to stay forever
But you’ll learn and you’ll live better
Knowing how to share your space
And if nothing else will help
Walking in the woods goes a long way

Seven miles from town to home means seven miles for singing
That’s at least four songs if I can keep the truck in third
Listening to the chorus in the back seat gives me shivers
May our spirits stay freewheeling as our grasp upon the words

In a life worth living
Let distractions stay distractions
Temptation can be taxing
Don’t you give it all your time
Go swimming
In the lakes and in the rivers
With lovers, friends, and sinners
In sunlight and moonshine
Live in the city
You don’t have to stay forever
But you’ll learn and you’ll live better
Knowing how to share your space
And if nothing else will help
Walking in the woods goes a long way

Try to keep your mistakes inconsequential
Let your heart be broken once or twice
Don’t ignore your regrets but don’t weep at lost potential
And if you let somebody share your life
Make a life worth living
Let distractions stay distractions
Temptation can be taxing
Don’t you give it all your time
Go swimming
In the lakes and in the rivers
With lovers, friends, and sinners
In sunlight and moonshine
Live in the city
You don’t have to stay forever
But you’ll learn and you’ll live better
Knowing how to share your space
And if nothing else will help
Walking in the woods goes a long way

And if nothing else will help
Walking in the woods goes a long way
A long way

From a Golden State

You won’t believe how they handle snow days in California
These kids lose their shit over just an inch or two
Dad can roll his eyes and try to blame it on the transplants
But his eyes look like everybody’s do

Everybody asks me how you’re doing
So hard to picture you existing here
We can’t get the Times and it’s an hour to Trader Joe’s
And I can barely breathe two months a year

The river’s fine, but it’s overrated
Every teacher at my school looks just like me
All the locals are so jaded
Hating everyone who pays their salaries

But I’ll keep on pretending this is home
Because I know that’s what you wanted me to do
You taught me how to live alone
But I need more than memories to pull me through
I bet I can love to suffer more than you

Grandma’s told me every story three times
There’s a hard drive full of prepubescent me
When I hate my dad, and school, and poetry, and cancer
Sometimes I hate you the most for leaving

But I’ll keep on pretending that I’m fine
Because survivor’s guilt’s pathetically convenient
You were even beautiful in dying
And I’m too much like my father to relent
From the narcissistic self-flaggelence

I pretend I’m a spacewoman’s daughter
I project mission completion dates
I pretend I’m a spacewoman’s daughter
It’s all relative, so I’ll just wait, wait, wait

The Gardener

Music & Lyrics by Kristian Matsson

Amazon Song

When he gets home he heats up dinner and he thinks about his son
Puts a dent into his novel, he really likes this one
After fumbling through the dishes he pours bitters in his rye
Passes out watching the Mavericks, then he’s up again at five
To the building outside Dallas sixteen football fields in size

When he leaves home it’s in his Camry ‘cause he traded in his Ford
God he loved that half ton pickup, but it was to much to insure
Pulls into Distribution, tips his cap to the sunrise
Grabs his scanner and assignment, and he pulls one box at a time

One box at a time
Oh one box at a time
They’ll give you forty seconds
You’ll pull one box at a time

And on weekends he’s too sore to play the way he’s dreamt of playing
But the free Prime on the tablet keeps the kid occupied
He says it’s cool that Dad makes so many people happy
When he’s asked exactly what he does, he lies

Cause he pulls one box at a time
Oh one box at a time
Pretend you’ll feed your family
Pulling one box at a time

When he hears rumors of a union, he’s too cynical to hope
He keeps drifting down that river, only stops to piss and smoke
Thanks God for his boy’s mama, though she’d never do the same
When he’s buried in these boxes at least one will know his name

Cause outside Dallas there’s a building sixteen football fields in size
And the Rate’s the only number you live by
He sees people on amphetamines but he’s too scared to try
His daddy taught him real men work or die

So he pulls one box at a time
Oh one box at a time
Dreaming his boy will do better, pulling one box at a time
Pretend you’ll feed your family pulling one box at a time

In The Nighttime

You’re always looking for the next one
You swing the hammer ‘fore you find that nail
You’d never call yourself the best one
You hide a wicked, uninspiring tale
You take control and manifest one
Clench your teeth while you ride that rail
You’re always looking for the next one, the next one

She’s always eager for the nighttime
So afraid that that the sun’s gonna call her out
She’s fights so hard to pull a tight line
Ride the tension so the strain can deflect the doubt
She’s got the soul but not the right dime
And somebody she can’t afford to forget about
She’s always eager for the nightime, the nighttime

So you slide, all the way you slide
Halfway to the next sad silent town
Oh like hell she tries
She’s so good at keeping you around
Through those empty eyes
The neon, oh the gaslight wears you down
Still you’re bound
To hear these mournful sounds

You make the promise that you won’t keep
She plays her part and loosens on the line
You claim yourself a mental victory
She pretends that she can still see that shine
You dig your grave but never too deep
Oh you know what she’ll do when she finds
But you’re always eager for the next one
And she don’t have to be honest in the nighttime

So you slide, all the way you slide
Halfway to the next sad silent town
Oh like hell she tries
She’s so good at keeping you around
Through those empty eyes
The neon, oh the gaslight wears you down
Still you’re bound
To hear these mournful sounds
Hear the mournful sounds

Tom Horn

Pray the cattlemen do not grow tired of you
Give them no good reason to put you down
Cause this town’s so slow, and the Judge got something to prove
And Willie’s gettin cold in the ground

Well Tommy was the best shot you ever saw
And the livin’ was easy outside the law
If you ever heard those rustlers call
Tommy were’t far behind
Lived life by a certain code
The investigations were sorry and slow
If you passed him out on a Wyoming roa
He’d tip his hat and smile

Pray the cattlemen do not grow tired of you
Give them no good reason to put you down
Cause this town’s so slow, and the Judge got something to prove
And Willie’s gettin cold in the ground

Yeah, we knew Tommy’d killed a few bad men
And if they came round he’d like to do it again
Every dead outlaw that you could ken
We wager’d met his hand
But a schoolboy from a shepherd family
In cold blood, no we can’t understand
He’d never hurt a woman or an honest man
And now he’s got the whole town singin’

“HANGIN MISTER HORN ON FRIDAY”
“BLESSED SAVIOR THERE TO GUIDE US”

He’ll take silver for his fee
And he’d never tell but he’d do it for free
If you knew you’d skip that hangin tree
Ah…you might too
Ain’t no hero but Tom’s a fair man
Who’d stepped outside his bosses plans
That rope’s been hungry for the damned
Any bloody hands will do

Pray the cattlemen do not grow tired of you
Give them no good reason to put you down
Cause this town’s so slow, and the Judge got something to prove
And Willie’s gettin cold in the ground
Willie’s getting cold in the ground
Yeah Tommy’s getting cold…

“HANGIN MISTER HORN ON FRIDAY”
“BLESSED SAVIOR THERE TO GUIDE US”

Man from the Train

Don’t leave the ax by the woodshed papa
Brother go check the barn
Mama can ya lock up the windows
I’ll bring the hounds in for alarm
We live too damn close to the train tracks
To go to bed feeling safe
Til the whistle blows early in the morning
Taking the man from the train away

Milk Bessie, Milk Clarabelle, and harvest the eggs
Churn the butter, pick potatoes, hoe the weeds from the beds
Hang the wash, fold the laundry, fix your papa’s torn shirt
Sweep the steps, help your mama, wash your face of that dirt

Don’t leave the ax by the woodshed papa
Brother go check the barn
Mama can ya lock up the windows
I’ll bring the hounds in for alarm
We live too damn close to the train tracks
To go to bed feeling safe
Til the whistle blows early in the morning
Taking the man from the train away

Feed the hogs, feed the cattle, clean the horse and the stalls
Split the rounds, sharpen knives and hang the light in the hall
Fix the fence where the bull keeps on breaking through
Don’t ya disappoint Daddy or he’ll take it to you

Don’t leave the ax by the woodshed papa
Brother go check the barn
Mama can ya lock up the windows
I’ll bring the hounds in for alarm
We live too damn close to the train tracks
To go to bed feeling safe
Til the whistle blows early in the morning
Taking the man from the train away

Call the sheriff, call the doctor, there’s a terrible crime
Take collection, hire detectives, we got someone to find
God help the next Black man who wanders along
Cause the real killer’s on the train and long gone

Don’t leave the ax by the woodshed papa
Brother go check the barn
Mama can ya lock up the windows
I’ll bring the hounds in for alarm
We live too damn close to the train tracks
To go to bed feeling safe
Til the whistle blows early in the morning
Taking the man from the train away

Icarus

As we look to the sky, there’s fear in our eyes
Fear in our eyes
Circle wagons and say “it’s been a difficult time
“A difficult time.”
At the tables we pray, look to the earth and we pray
That it’s gonna be alright
But when we look to the sky, there’s fear in our eyes

Call off your dogs, it’s resounding
Fighting water won’t stop you from drowning
I am not a vessel, I am a missile

Waiting for the sky to fall, but the sky don’t fall
Rising rivers hold at the banks
Even when the clouds arrive and the cold winds call
Most trees bend but they don’t break

You’re falling with open hands, which makes perfect sense
It makes perfect sense
And, like Icarus, your wings are giving into the heat
The sun’s last defense
And as you tremble and pray, look to the earth and you pray
Despite what you’d meant
Falling with open hands is our only defense

Waiting for the sky to fall, but the sky don’t fall
Rising rivers hold at the banks
Even when the clouds arrive and the cold winds call
Most trees bend but they don’t break
Most trees bend but they don’t break
Most trees bend but they don’t