Author: scot phegley

I have promised myself, and friends, that I would re-learn the habit of sharing songs. When I was good at sharing songs, the world was a wildly different place. This is interesting to think about. Recently, I have found myself so very weary of listening to YouTubers my age go on and on about how the music business has changed, bemoaning the days of yesteryear when only an artist or band for whom all of the stars aligned as the right talent scout happened into the right club at the perfect moment to hear this perfect flower of an artist, or collection of them, who as it so happened were at the perfect age for capturing, packaging, and selling to the masses.

In those days, studio gear was out of reach for the mass of musicians, and songwriters. In those days you had gatekeepers. In those days, the gatekeepers had gatekeepers. There were layers of those people.

Sharing songs in those days for me was to invite a friend or two to come hang out on the front porch of 1908 South 8th Street or some unexpecting piano I would descend upon with all the loving key-pounding enthusiasm of my younger self. I would set upon sharing the most recent of the songs that had sprung from my lungs and fingers.

I get it. The route used to be so easy to see, the route to the life that music would pay one to live. I suppose that route may not be completely closed. Who knows? I do not.

What I do know is that today, any tunesmith or musician or collection of them, can in their spare rooms and basements can now create in ways the greats, pick your favorite, could not. What freedom! What joy! Seriously.

I intentionally remind myself frequently that I started writing and singing songs purely for the love of songs, for the love of melody. In the past couple of years, I have sought to lean into making and sharing music in whatever ways I am able.

In that spirit, here is Party at the End of the Line. I wrote this tune driving home from work on a day when a fellow employee through me under the proverbial bus. I believe it was undeserved. I believe it was known to all or most that it was undeserved. It does not matter. It matters not a whit.

Song notes:
My dear, sweet bride gave me a banjo several years ago. She knows that I love to have and play on an instrument where I am somewhat lost. I wrote this tune some years ago on the guitar. As I was practicing, noodling, on my banjo; I wrote the little instrumental intro part. Then so that I could share it with a musical companion, I recorded the song on my phone. I hope to record it again soon in the studio. But for now, I share it as it is, or was, yesterday when I put it down to share with a few friends. The musically astute may notice me trying to manage to play this somewhat still foreign-to-me instrument as I also seek to recall all the words in the proper order. Is no matter. If you want to play and sing along on your favorite instrument, I am playing in G Major.

This past Friday, I shared Abilene with any who may wish to come near enough to listen. Sharing songs at this point in my life has been quite an unexpected experience for me, nothing short of joy-filled.

Truth be told, I have always wrestled with what to do with the songs. Surely that cannot sound completely foreign to at least some. I have written them for almost as long as I can recall. Some are better than others. All have brought me joy in their first moments. All have brought me joy and comfort along my little track across this big, beautiful ball of life as it hurls its way through space and time.

Who are they for? What are they worth? Does anyone really need to hear me sing a song? Is what I have to say all that important? Were it not for my little family, my dear friends grafted-in like family, my new-found tribe of sister and brother Crows; I likely would not be sharing them now.

Oddly, in retrospect not surprisingly, learning to appreciate and love my community has been key to encouraging me, spurring me, out of my songster hermit’s hideaway. Surely, I will say this again and again as I remind my too often timid heart; the songs are gifts to me, but they are not for me only.

I suppose that is enough peeking inside for this moment. Enjoy Abilene if you wish to make it digitally spin. The lovely electric guitar work is my dear friend Mike Bauer. Mike has given the gifted so many in our little hamlet with his outstanding guitar teaching. I recommend no guitar teacher more highly – https://www.nashvilleguitaracademy.com/. The groovy backing vocals are Kristin Bauer. Dear friends and wonderful musicians. Is always a joy for me making music with Mike and Kristin.

If you are humming, harping, or playing along; I am playing in D Major.

Twelve years ago I shared a collection of songs with whomever might come to listen, might happen to stumble upon them. I titled the collection Songs from Fort Defiance, Vol. 1. The volume one add was very intentional. The addition was a reminder to me that I needed to share more songs. It was a reminder to me that I was not finished hiking my musical trail.

Today I shared the first of a new collection of songs. The title will be Songs from Fort Defiance, Vol. 2. The first tune, appearing in the stream-verse today, is For My Girl. The song spark was a winsome politician’s smile. That first line emerged from a heart giving in to the cynicism of a moment.

In the end, the song had something far better than cynicism to bring to me. I am grateful for the opportunity to share it with you. I hope it has something for you in it too.

For those inclined to join the throng with guitar, piano, hornpipe, etc.

I am playing in C Major.