Author: scot phegley

Today is Father’s Day.

It is early morning. The first to rise, I have brewed myself some coffee in a beloved French press that my family gave to me. In a quiet corner of the house, I have pulled out a few instruments and have been investigating some music theory concepts with which I do not yet have mastery. There is a voluminous trove of music theory concepts from which I can choose, so far from mastery am I.

Recently, a dear friend of mine asked me where he could find and revisit this tune that I had at one time or another shared. What an incredible compliment for an artist. “Where is that song? Somewhere I can find and listen to it?”

The only place it was findable was via the privately shared link to an MP3 file residing on one of the myriad cloud storage services. Today, I will improve upon that at least somewhat.

I wrote this song one evening when a youngster in our community, a friend’s child, was going through a rough patch. This proved to be a long and immensely rocky rough patch for this one and this family. I shared the song with this particular friend, a father, on the evening that I put it down. It seemed a timely share. May God bless and keep our children, and even us. Amen.

I do not share songs enough. If you are reading this, you know it is true. I am sharing nothing new.

It is an incredible grace to have a true friend. It is an incredible grace to have an imperfect friend. Surely we are, each of us, imperfect friends to those we call such on our best days. For those of us lucky enough to be dad or mom, it is nothing but an incredible grace.

My children are to me a joy that I did not see coming. Of course, I felt joy and excitement, and fear, as the expectations built at that time when each of them had a due date. What I am wishing to express is that the joy that they have brought and shared has proved far beyond any hopes I might have mustered.

Enough of this rambling and failing to express my thoughts this morning. Perhaps you have offered on up like this one set to melody. Be invited to play, sing, or hum along. I am playing it here in G Major.

And if you happen to have not listened to the new songs on the streaming services, I invite you to check them out. They should be findable on all of the services.

Spotify | Apple | YouTube | Amazon

I shared a new song this week. The link is shared below this post.

As I open my new-age electronic notebook to write this morning, I feel weary. I have had plenty of rest. I have had plenty to eat. Last night was not brimming over with frivolous shenanigans. My friend, Ryan, would ask me what I have been eating. Likely a good question. Nonetheless. At least for this morning, I am limping a little bit.

Over the last few days, I have listened to a one-time acquaintance discuss the nature of music and art via the magic of democratized television. Somehow, these discussions and the ideas they carry and offer found me. As I listened in, I knew that I needed them. I sent an overly verbose “thank you”. This is a thing I do.

This is an idea, a truth, of which I want to take hold and cleave to as for dear life. Perhaps for dear life describes it best. This seems an oddity to me, even though I cannot help but write something about presses upon me that I do not value these expressions nearly highly enough. Guilty.

I shared a new song this week by way of the internet airwaves. I refuse to bemoan the state of modern music. That I can write and share a song with whomever wishes to listen wherever in the world they happen to be does not cease to astound me.

This morning, I spent a little time digging into statements on the phrase “Art for art’s sake”. What a treasure trove of deep encouragement. Below are a few that sang to me.

“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” – Edgar Degas

“I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way – things I had no words for.” – Georgia O’Keefe

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” – Pablo Picasso

I shared a new song this week. Check it out if you are so inclined. If you wish to play along, join for the joy of it, or practice your improvisational noodling, I am playing it here in F major.

Links: Spotify | Apple | Amazon | Pandora | etc.

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.

There are a couple of versions. If you want the first run iPhone recording, that is just below (the video with the banjo picture).

If you want the version with just a touch more polish, check out the 2nd version further down below the song notes.

If this content does not play on your browser, here is the direct YouTube link.

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.

If this content does not play on your browser, here is the direct YouTube link.

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