This debut LP from The Rusty Marshell Band doesn’t knock — it kicks the damn door in. Fueled by busted knuckles, backroad gospel, and guitars that sound like they’ve been through war, this record is a full-throttle sermon for the broken and the brave. It’s outlaw rock with a soul — where every lyric bleeds truth, every solo howls like a midnight engine, and every track rides shotgun with the ghosts of the past. If you’ve ever lit a cigarette off a tailpipe, buried a brother, or found God in distortion, this album’s already part of your story. The Rusty Marchell Band ain’t chasing trends — they’re chasing thunder.

Rusty Marshall Band⚡ Chasing Thunder⚡

Too many last rides have carved their names into the wind.
Colors carried beside me weren’t just patches—they were friends.
The line runs long when the road remembers your name.
Air feels thin when the silence starts to speak again
Riding through places we once called home feels like trespassing.
but today...
I take this road with others who know the loss that rides this way
The road remembers even when the world forgets the cost
and today brother.... I'm .. totaly.. ...fucking ....lost...
Lost another brother to a night that came too fast.
Lost another life to a map that never warned us last
Lost another friendship that used to keep me right.
He came before his time and left in the dark night.
No one saw it coming, but the road did.
No going back when the throttle’s to the grave.
No going back when the echo fades.
no going back on the wrong turns you made
no going back...no going back....no going back.
No going back, no second track.
The road runs forward, never back
Lost in the dust, lost in the black.
Brotherhood bonds when fate attacks.
No going back, no final bow
Just this ride,  just this ride.. for... now
Time don’t heal—it just hides the bruise.
Names don’t fade—they just lose their use.
Love don’t die—it just changes form.
The road don’t lie—it just gets re-born
He wore his scars like scripture and rode like a hymn.
He never asked for mercy, only miles.
He taught me that silence was sacred to him
He left me with a bike, a memory of smiles
I ride now with ghosts who never needed headlights.
I ride now with stories that never end clean.
I ride now because stopping would mean forgetting.
and thats not what being.. a brother... means....
No going back, no second track.
The road runs forward, never back
Lost in the dust, lost in the black.
Brotherhood breaks when fate attacks.
No going back, no final bow
Just this ride,  just this ride.. for... now
He kept me upright when the world leaned wrong.
He gave me the ride.
I gave him... this song...

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

No Going Back  Rusty Marshall Band

Chains don’t always rattle when they’re made of blood.
Smoke curled from lips that never learned to lie.
Boots tracked mud through memories that won’t clean easy.
Laughter echoed in garages where pain was passed around.
Knuckles cracked before words could explain the damage.
Ashtrays filled with secrets no one dared to name.
Gasoline soaked the promise of a better plan.
Midnight came with silence that felt like a dare.
Freedom don’t come with a map.
Brotherhood don’t come without traps.
 run from the fight, but not from the fire.
break every bond, but not the wire.
 curse every name, but not the mother.
 lose yourself, but not one another.
You can burn the bridge, but not the sky.
You can live alone, but not live right.
Whispers carried weight when spoken in the dark.
Tires spun stories that never made it home.
Whiskey blurred the lines between truth and defense.
Gloves held more than fists—they held history.
Doors slammed like punctuation on broken trust.
Cigarettes lit the fuse on nights that never ended.
Radio static hummed like a hymn for the lost.
Windows stayed down even when the rain hit hard.
Distance don’t heal what’s buried deep.
Silence don’t mean the soul’s asleep.
Pain don’t fade when it’s shared in code.
Love don’t die—it just changes mode.
Letters stayed unsent because the ink felt heavy.
Roads stretched long but never felt wide enough.
Names got shorter when shouted through grief.
Hands reached out but never quite touched.
Smoke rose from engines that knew the way.
Time blinked and missed the moment.
Scars told stories no preacher could preach.
Hope rode shotgun with a loaded past.
 run from the fight, but not from the fire.
break every bond, but not the wire.
 curse every name, but not the mother.
 lose yourself, but not one another.
You can burn the bridge, but not the sky.
You can live alone, but not live right.
Some ties choke.
Some ties save.
But the ones that hold
are the ones you crave.
 run from the fight, but not from the fire.
break every bond, but not the wire.
 curse every name, but not the mother.
 lose yourself, but not one another.
You can burn the bridge, but not the sky.
You can live... alone, but not live... right....

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

One Another Rusty Marshall Band

We were the gang you didn’t want to cross, not because we were loud, but because we were final.
I didn’t carry a weapon—I carried history, and that was enough.
My dope kept me steady when the world spun too fast.
My drink kept me warm when the cold came from inside.
You better think twice before stepping between me and what keeps me upright.
You don’t want to see what happens when the last thread snaps.
I don’t ask for forgiveness—I leave wrong in the gutter and keep walking.
I don’t explain myself—I let the bruises do the talking.
I’ve walked through towns where my name was a warning.
I’ve stared down men who thought they were ready and left them wondering.
I’ve made deals in alleys and promises in silence.
I’ve watched good people fall because they thought they could fix me.
I’ve buried regrets under motel mattresses and bar tabs.
I’ve seen the sunrise from jail cells and the sunset from rooftops.
I’ve never begged, never pleaded, never folded.
I’ve just moved to the next showdown like it was Sunday morning.
don’t believe in redemption—I believe in rhythm.
 don’t chase peace—I chase the pulse that keeps me alive.
don’t mourn what I lost—I wear it like a second skin.
Idon’t walk alone—I walk with my dope and my drink.
 been the villain in stories told by people who never knew me.
 been the hero in moments no one saw.
 held the line when it wasn’t mine to hold.
spit blood and kept singing.
 watched love walk away and never asked it to turn around.
 danced with danger and called it Tuesday.
 built a life out of ashes and attitude.
I’ve never been safe, but I’ve always been true.
To walk with me
is to walk with my dope
and my drink.
And trust me—
you don’t want to see what that does.

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

My Dope and My Drink Rusty Marshall Band

I learned to make a fist from my older brother at five,
and trust me, that skill’s kept me alive more times than I can count.
He showed me how to square up before I knew how to spell my name.
We didn’t have bedtime stories—we had bruises and broken lamps.
Mama prayed, Daddy drank, and we ducked when the shouting started.
I wore my first scar like a badge and never asked for a refund.
By seven, I knew how to take a hit and how to hide the tears.
By ten, I stopped hiding anything at all.
I’m a fighter, always have been, even when I didn’t want to be.
This skin’s beyond thin—it’s paper stretched over dynamite.
One twist, one wrong word, and I’m back in the ring.
It’s not about winning—it’s about not backing down.
I’ve thrown punches in parking lots and whispered apologies in hospital rooms.
I’ve fought for love, for pride, for silence, for nothing.
Sometimes I fight just to feel something that isn’t shame.
Sometimes I fight because it’s the only thing I trust to stay.
I’ve been hit by friends, by strangers, by truths I wasn’t ready for.
I’ve lost teeth, lost time, lost the thread of who I was supposed to be.
I’ve seen the look in her eyes when she realized I wasn’t safe to love.
I’ve walked out of rooms I should’ve stayed in and stayed in fights I should’ve walked from.
I’ve buried the best parts of me under layers of defense.
I’ve told myself I’m fine while bleeding through my shirt.
I’ve made peace with the fact that peace never made time for me.
I’ve stared down mirrors and dared them to blink first.
I don’t romanticize the damage—I just carry it.
I don’t ask for forgiveness—I just keep moving.
I don’t know what healing looks like, but I know what survival costs.
I don’t cry anymore, but I still flinch when someone says “safe.”
I’m the kind of man who’d die from a blow he didn’t see coming.
Not because he’s weak, but because he’s always looking the other way.
I’ve got stories stitched into my knuckles and regrets tattooed on my ribs.
I’ve got a heart that punches back and a mind that won’t stay quiet.
I’ve got a past that won’t let go and a future I don’t trust.
I’ve got one truth left: I fight.
Not for glory. Not for fame.
Just because that’s what got me down the line.
That’s just me.
No anthem. No apology.
Just a man who learned to swing
and never stopped.
That’s just me.(That’s just me.)That’s just me.
That’s just me.(That’s just me.)That’s just me.
That’s just me.(That’s just me.)That’s just me.
That’s just me.(That’s just me.)That’s just me

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

That’s Just Me Rusty Marshall Band

The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder......
He lit his first smoke off a burning bridge.
Took his first punch with a grin and a twitch.
He’s got scars where names used to be.
And a throttle hand that don’t believe in peace.
He drinks like the past is still chasing him.
And rides like the future ain’t worth a sin.
He’s buried brothers in dust and flame.
and when he rides he calls their names.
He’s got blood on his boots and glass in his grin.
Every barroom brawl was a prayer to begin.
He don’t ask for mercy, don’t speak of regret.
He just pours another round and lights a cigarette.
The road is his gospel, the bike is his creed.
He’s chasing thunder — not hope, not need.
He rides with ghosts who never forgive.
And he swears that’s the only way to live.
No apologies, no second tries.
Just engines screaming under blackened skies.
If you ride with him, you ride and never tell
And you better be ready ...to ride through hell...
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a brother ...gonna toss you a line
He found a brother broken down , lost in the dark.
No patch, no pride — just gun shot marks.
And for the first time, he didn’t speak.
Just held the man and made him believe.
They’d fought, they’d bled, took off chasing thunder
to save a brother that got pulled  under.
He didn’t cry, didn’t rage, didn’t run.
He just whispered, “your not done.”......chasing ....thunder.......!
Brotherhood ain’t built on grace.
It’s forged in fire and a thousand mistakes.
It’s the silence when the world goes black.
And the promise that you’ve got his back.
It’s not forgiveness — it’s the ride.
And the thunder you chase side by side.
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on  each dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a bother... gonna  toss you a line...
The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder.
chasing thunder......
chasing thunder.......chasing .....thunder.....

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

Edwin Balder