Pitchydog
All my music begins with an acoustic guitar, a muse, and a pencil. I write the lyrics, chords and melody. I probably futz more than I should. I write what I feel because I enjoy it. Lots of different genres. Many moods. Many paths. I record my version, then use it for a music artist or sometimes AI to cover my voice as well as the instrumental styles. (Be thankful. But DO understand that no AI is used for any creative build, melody or lyrics. Some production only. Same as with artists, though I give them a little more room to play.)
All are my songs, heart and soul. All came from a pencil, a guitar, and a dog at my side.
A romp in the woods, unleashed.
To DOWNLOAD my songs, please visit me at my Bandcamp site.
Click the music icon.
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Haven't We Learned by Now
Peace, hope & tomorrow
These days, so many people have devolved into vitriol and hate. If you look back to history…well, have we come anywhere at all? I wrote the song to be thoughtful at the core with some frustration in the chorus, and left it hanging with an uncertain minor chord. Because isn’t that where we are…
For awhile, this song was called 2-string. I had the ditty and a lot of humming. Until finally words came: as a tribute to the "cowboys" of the past who stood up then and who can still help us stand up today. A tribute to those who lift us all against discrimination and hatred via courage and song.
Some go on a lake to catch fish. Some go on a lake to catch restoration and peace. I took the photo of Lake Lida and built the concept while on a fishing trip with my aging father—the last he would be able to take. He always went on a lake to catch fish. And never admitted to himself the latter.
Each of us has a unique positive light, and every day is another chance to bring it into the world. I wrote this when I was frustrated with the amount of hostility and anger out there. This is about a new start, like a morning sun.
In nature, different things grow side by side. Rivers move forward, no matter what’s past. Perhaps it’s time for people to do the same.
An edgier version of this acoustic plea to learn from the past and be kind in the present.
Vagabond Moon
Phases of life; wisps of love
I was in my screen porch listening to rain drizzle down and a bird singing from somewhere in the depth of it. So I wrote about rain and a bird. Creative, I know. A metaphor for brightness within gray.
A poignant song for wine and twilight about reflecting on a decision made while young, when such things are easy to toss away. It’s harder, isn’t it, thinking back through mighta-beens in the hard realistic gray of age. We never know, do we. The photo was taken by my daughter while studying in France. The rain on her lens makes it even better for this song…
So it was a barefoot, lazy, summery day finger-pickin’ my acoustic on my screen porch. Felt a Jimmy Buffett vibe, but didn’t know what to write. So sang about the stuff around me: a cup of coffee, my guitar, a wren, sunbeams… And of course threw in a little love. Enough to pluck on the heart strings.
I wrote this one moonless, starless night on a writing retreat, when I was miles alone in woods particularly thick with darkness. A fire crackled in the cabin. I had a door open to the outside, which was draped with a heavy black blanket of forbiddenness. I was drawn to the contrast. Comfort and safety by the fire with the risk and uncertainty of what might be out there.
Love is love, no matter if it goes against somebody’s norms. It’s been true through all time, society (the “unbending branches”) dictating rules: young/old, rich/poor, sexualities, ethnicities, religions, etc. But things aren’t that fixed, even if we think they are. The constant sky: always raveling. The wind: wayward. Even the reliable moon is a vagabond. Within it all, there’s room for any two disparate characters (a crow and a wren) to find love. The photo is from a writing retreat in the woods, when the moon was tangled in the clawing branches. It inspired this song.
Well, Yippee Damn Ki Yay
Sometimes, movin' on just feels simply right. Like an old guitar, jeans and an honest carefree feeling.
Sometimes, movin' on just feels simply lonely. Twilight bruised like a recollection. Getting what you want maybe ain't what you want. Neither I nor the recording artist could whistle like we wanted, so he had a buddy do the whistling in exchange for some alcohol. In true cowboy spirit... The pix is one of my favorite hiking trails on my writing retreats.
Throwin' stuff away ain't always easy. In this case, bits of lyrics I'd cut from poems, but kept in a pile of didn't-make-its, just in case. When I hit upon this melody, it gave some of them a chance to live in this song about the emotion of a memory being stronger than the memory itself.
Yards of distance between you. Hangin' on the far side of stars. There may not be much love in such a relationship, but it's comfortably carefree without drama and passion, isn't it.
When you are on the road of trying to discover who you are in life, you sometimes take a few bad turns. And that’s OK. You gotta try. The honesty comes in knowing that. I took this photo while on a road trip in South Dakota. The hard wear and reality in the sign yet the change in the stony sky inspired this song. You can see where “left you stranded at the motel” and “left you standin’ in the rain” came from.
I can admit it. Night life is great and all, but sometimes I'm all for just stayin' home. And that's exciting enough. This is for all those who get all the vibe they need from each other. The photo is one I took in downtown Des Moines when I was, ironically, enjoying being out on a weekend night.
Broken trucks, dented love and unflappable human spirit
The Sun Will Have Her Say
I wrote this as a soft acoustic lullaby-style comfort for children having a rough go, but turns out we all can benefit at times in life from the simple sincere reminder that the sun will return. We recorded this with just acoustic guitar and mandolin. The pix is of my backyard daisies still abloom beneath a breaking storm.
Some days the sun bursts the dawn with such ferocity you just know you are in for it. I turned a poem I wrote into a song that I hope carries the soft-yet-determined sense of sunrise.
Some days the sun bursts the dawn with such ferocity you just know you are in for it. I turned a poem I wrote into a song that I hope carries the soft-yet-determined sense of sunrise.
One day I really wanted to just feel happy: so I wrote this simple, bouncy ditty in the spirit of Jack Johnson. And yes, I threw in a pix of my pup. It IS the Pitchydog site, after all...
I wrote this song in the midst of COVID to raise the spirit of my team. Slap acoustic. Brightness. Kevin recorded it in his living room since everyone was isolated. I like the realness of that. I created a video to go with this to debut it for my team, so from the start, it did spread some happy. It still does, at least for me..
Tried to capture the light movement of a butterfly in this one. The flits in the verses, the soaring with the key change in the chorus. In my head it was always meant to be a carefree duet.
This is a short poem I wrote for my daughters when they were young. Kinda sweet vs what I usually do. But I liked the magic dreaminess, so set it to a smooth, timeless genre.
Wrote this as a children's song, but then thought heck, why not remind everyone to not lose track of who they really are. Or want to be.
Lightness, life & the sensation of wings
Walk Me to the Grave
All you want is what you want and lord ain't that the truth. Religion has its place. So does humanity. Eric and I created a churchy intro/outro. The rest, a little Jagger swagger.
Why not go out in style. I wrote this on my acoustic, but recorded it as it was in my head: the jazzy strut of a New Orleans street parade. I don’t know who this song is about, but I loved his attitude the moment I started drawing him out onto paper.
The tenacity of human spirit when others try to take away rights. I wrote this anthem angry, with staccato and palm mute on my acoustic, but it sounds much better as rock.
The spirit of the Black Hills is still tangible, despite the desecration of sacred land for monuments and wealth. The Lakotan words include "respect the earth," "love the eagle," and the final phrase is "live together with this land." I wrote it on acoustic, using my hand as drum beat and trying to feel close to the authenticity of two of my favorite places, the Badlands and the Black Hills (Paha Sapa).
A heart ain't always complicated. It likes a bunch of stuff: coffee, sports... But when the thing it LOVES moves on, not much left for it to do. A bluesy spirit of love.
I wrote this as a country folk ode to those with hard luck in life, yet keep a glimmer of hope. Yeah these things happen, but tomorrow might come with a new chance.
The resilience of spirit
All the People Go "Oooh"
Drifted shapes of humanity
& souls that spin you
So I went to a small venue to see a folk singer passing through town, a woman with a smoky, drifty voice who played piano and guitar. Between songs she was chaos: losing her capo, losing her train of thought and which song was next, spilling her water… I wrote this song about an itinerant folk singer whose entire life is that way: unraveled and she can’t find connections to people. Except for when she sings. And in those moments, it’s beautiful. In the choruses, I tried to create the sense that we are all singing along in the dark, holding up our lights.
Some things—and certain people—transcend time. This song is about one of them (you know who she is). I wrote it on my acoustic, but had in mind the jazzy style of Glenn Miller or Benny Goodman. It essentially repeats a long 3-part progression. It’s fun to play on the acoustic, but better to have it covered with big band sound. And for a moment, transcend time.
This is based on C#m, so a bit of wistful tone, especially the way I play it on my acoustic. I covered it with 60s bubblegum pop (Herman's Hermits-ish?) for a bigger dose of teen spirit.
No one really heard her voice. Or cared enough to. Born dead, but survived. Mother put a knife on her throat, yet was Clara's only family. A lonely lost soul admired only as a pretend beauty on a thin-flickering silent screen. They sold her moods and eyes for gold. She never found happiness but never lost her soul. I am working on a documentary as well.
A Dutch girl imprisoned by the Nazis for saving lives. Somehow, she survived. Even in prison, just a sliver of sky was enough to sustain a soul. True story. One of the most amazing people I ever met. I wrote this for her. Bless you, Hanneke.
When Rosie Dances
When I was a kid, my grandpa looked out our window, seeing a farm that wasn't there and anxious for it. It was frightening. And comforting. When age clamps down on a life, there’s something beautiful about revisiting one's golden times: where you've been and who you are, still inside. That’s when Rosie dances. The photo is of my grandmother Madeline when she was 19, holding Spare Ribs, one of her favorite cats.
A song of age and contentment I wrote as the late-day sun lay in gold bars and the birds sang from darkening branches. The treasure of a life journey may be as simple as each other.
No matter your lot in life, there can be joy. A metaphor, but also I imagined a slow waltz of warm happiness out in the darkness and cold.
Years ago, I drove by a nursing home late at night and saw a window with a faint lamp glow. I wrote a poem about a person sinking away in it, forgotten. This is the song version.
Touring the Louvre and other galleries, I've marveled how heavy and dire the Masters are. I wrote a poem weighing simple, light modern love against their ferocity.
A poem about seeing a reflection of yourself and realizing you aren't you anymore. And then you have a choice to make, don't you. New song based on my poem.
Moments that define us
Songs in the Key of Sea
Drifting souls, broken waves and sorta pirates
Based on a true story. A friend's uncle dreamt of sailing alone across the ocean. Finally, he did. After a few days, fairies rose from the ocean. He talked with them. They had no eyes. He thought he was gone weeks, but the coast guard rescued him after only 3 days going in circles off the coast. From then on, he wanted to return to the sea to find the fairies again. On a recent trip to Maine, I was out on the Rockland breakwater in the fog. People in the distance rose like shapes drifting in from the sea. I created this song as a blend of the two. Years ago, I also wrote a short story called Letters from the Sea about the sailor going mad...
These days, a guy doesn't have a plundering brigade or a pirate ship too often. But we do have Friday nights out for family dinner. So, we do what we can... A suburban shanty,
If you're icky, don't be picky. That's the spoiler of this tune. When I was editor of Midwest Living magazine, I joined a group of high school boys for a concert as part of a story. One of our tunes was a pirate song. I remember the lights. The wood planking of stage. The boisterous feel through my chest as I sang mighty and proud. So I wrote this pirate tune. Each verse is a different dad-pirate hamming it up. It will probably never be used in a school performance, as the lyrics are, um, slightly ribald. But that's what pirates do...
I sailed Lake Michigan for a story for Midwest Living. The sky, clouds and water were all the same hue. Everything moved together. I took a pix of the mast and wrote a poem about the dizzying freedom and motion. Hopefully the song conveys the sensation.
So we ordered a small stuffed mouse from London and when it arrived, poor chap had just one arm. So I wrote a song about the brave but unfortunate Bob McMouse. Illustrated children's stories may come.
Excuse Me While I Kick You
Songs for the young and ruinable
Oh mothers. If you don't listen to them and "drift to sea," horrible things will befall you. Your eyes will stay crossed. A whale will eat you. Or worse. And if something bad occurs from not listening, well, not their problem I took the pix of "piratey" looking tall ships in Duluth. Failure to heed a mother could happen anywhere...
This sad tale is the soundtrack to an illustrated children's book I am writing. (I may also do a macabre young adult version.) But despite it all, she's still a pretty good dog, ain't she.
I wrote this poem for my daughters when they were young. Lotsa strange stuff is supposed to happen when the moon is full... Wouldn't it be nice to maybe see some of it???
A bully's gotta bully, right? But at least use your manners and be nice about it. A mildly sarcastic poem I wrote for my daughters.
If a child is worried about a creature under the bed, one thing a father can do is to check and reassure. The other: name it and write a poem about it. Heh.
A message for children about how things work out if you don't give up. Or not. Such as with Billy and his horrible school trombone playing. Sometimes, maybe give up?
Playing with food can be more fun that eating it. At least, for awhile. A poem from my kid's collection of food combos that make you go aah. But not in a good way.
A children's librarian asked me to write a song for kid's programming. So I did. It's not a sit-and-listen-to song. But it IS a song for hopping, swimming and other can't-sit-still actions. So limber up.
I was asked to write ANOTHER kid's activity song. Lord, how much activity do children need?!?!? It's based on an Ant poem I wrote for my daughters, and their ant illustration.
Feelin' All Joy, Tonight
Holiday spirits and drunken elves
I was working on a pretty carol, then had an impulse to change moods, change tempo, and I ended up here. A tongue-in-cheek tune about when family descends...
For years, we've had small decorative elves that just can't seem to stay sitting up. I took a pix of them (in Lyrics) and wrote this to commemorate their holiday "spirits".
Wrote this as a poem for the girls when they were young, then set it to music. My drawing of Santa and his big, um, inappropriate targeted bum, is in Lyrics.
Foreheads Flung Open
Random spillage: from hungry dogs to ukulele love to some scary dude with a flashlight
So yeah, I write with my dogs. And alas, they often focus more on dinner than creative muse. So I banged out this bluesy tune, feeling SO sorry for their suffering. Just FYI, the cover art is a stylized image from an actual photo of a drooling Cleo, one of my starving dinnertime assistants. Who says they can't inspire me??
A warm Irish jig based on a pub we stopped at in Duluth. Locals played instruments. They sat with us at our table. We felt like family. I don't remember what we ate, but I remember leaving warm and fulfilled.
Goofing on my ukulele, I wrote this tune. Basic G, D, C chords. Though I've played it for my wife Jill several times, she has yet to comment. I bet if I keep playin' it, she will.
My only (as of now) rock ballad. Everyone pines on the moon. A poem about how it doesn't really pine back. Your choice: A metaphor or just straight-up damnit moon.
Late some nights, minor worries crawl out large and frightful, buoyed by silence and thick darkness. I used minor chords to try to capture the unsettling nature of a sleepless 2 a.m.
One night a man came out of the street shadows and into my yard, waving a flashlight as if looking for something. He went around my house. I went out the back door into the dark to find him. But he was gone. No man. No light. So I did the smart thing. I wrote a song about him.