Thursday, July 3, 2025

Behind the Song: Live Free and Drive


There’s something about New Hampshire that gets under your skin — the mountains, the stubborn independence, the way folks carry themselves like they’ve got granite in their veins. That “Live Free or Die” spirit runs deep, and when I heard the NH Legislature was offering a new car sticker that says Live Free and Drive, well… I couldn’t resist turning that into a song.

The Idea:
It started as a bit of a joke — what if I wrote a song just for that sticker? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it’s not just about the sticker. It’s about the feeling of rolling down a back road with the windows down, the mountains in the distance, and that sense of freedom that’s hard to put into words.

The Song:
Live Free and Drive is my musical postcard to the Granite State. It’s built on steady acoustic guitar, a little rootsy twang, and vocals that carry a bit of that New England grit. The tempo keeps it moving — like the hum of tires on asphalt — and the lyrics celebrate everything from the stubborn hills to the unbending pride of New Hampshire folks.

A few lines really sum it up for me:

“No tolls can stop us, no chains can bind,
We’re the keepers of a rugged mind.”

That’s New Hampshire in a nutshell. We don’t like being told what to do, and we sure don’t like obstacles getting in the way of a good drive.

The Process:
This one came together fast. I had the melody in my head by the time I finished reading about the sticker, and the lyrics followed naturally. I recorded the track, added some acoustic layers, and kept the production simple — the kind of stripped-down sound that feels like driving with no destination, just the road and the horizon ahead.

Why It Matters:
With the recent push in NH around car inspections and personal freedom, this song felt timely. But it’s not just political — it’s cultural. It’s about pride in where we live, and the belief that the open road is still a symbol of what makes us free.

You can listen to the track here:
🎧 Live Free and Drive on SoundCloud

Hope it gets your wheels turning — and your spirit rolling.

Stay safe out there,
— Adam Sweet

Behind the Scenes of Swing, Amherst, Swing


It’s not every day that reading the local paper sparks a full-blown jazz composition, but that’s exactly how Swing, Amherst, Swing was born. I was flipping through the Daily Hampshire Gazette when I came across a piece that really lit a spark: "Around Amherst". It wasn’t just the usual roundup—it was a love letter to our town’s heartbeat. The article celebrated the very best of Amherst: Fred Tillis' enduring musical legacy, the iconic Giant Book Sale, and the floral charm brought to life by the FA2 volunteers. As a lifelong musician and proud member of the Pioneer Valley community, I knew I had to find a way to capture that spirit—and for me, that way is always through music.

Building the Song

Right away, I heard it in my head: an upbeat, big band jazz tune pulsing with gospel energy, full brass harmonies, and a soulful female lead belting out the joy of small-town pride. Picture a packed town common, the scent of summer flowers on the breeze, kids laughing, books stacked high, and music filling the air—that’s the feeling I wanted to bottle in this song.

The song came together with the classic big band palette in mind: punchy brass, a full saxophone section, grooving piano, upright bass, and drums keeping it all swinging at 160 BPM. I even wrote a spot for a sax solo and a signature brass call-and-response moment, giving it that authentic, toe-tapping, head-nodding energy.

But here’s the catch: I don’t exactly have a 17-piece jazz orchestra hanging around my living room. So, like many independent musicians these days, I leaned on technology to bring this vision to life. The entire instrumentation was performed using synthesizers and keyboards, painstakingly programmed to emulate the rich, organic sound of a live big band.

Getting the Sound Right

This wasn’t just a quick MIDI project. I collaborate with a team of engineers and producers to make sure the sound holds up—especially for a project like this, where authenticity is everything. We layered, tweaked, EQ’d, and mixed until those brass hits popped and the drums swung just right. It’s all about crafting that old-school, dance hall magic, even if the tools are modern.

And, of course, the centerpiece of the track is the powerful, gospel-infused female vocalist. Her soulful delivery gives the song its heart—the same heart that beats in every community volunteer, book sale organizer, music lover, and flower-planting neighbor in Amherst.

Honoring a Legacy

More than anything, this track is a tribute. To Fred Tillis, whose music and leadership shaped generations in this town. To the volunteers, teachers, organizers, and everyday folks who make Amherst more than just a place on the map—it’s a living, breathing community.

Swing, Amherst, Swing is my musical postcard to the place I call home. I hope it brings a little extra bounce to your step and reminds you of the beauty that happens when a community comes together—whether it's over jazz, books, flowers, or shared dreams.

You can give it a listen here: https://tinyurl.com/AmherstSwing

Keep Swingin', Amherst.

 

Behind the Scenes: Writing a Bluegrass Tribute to South Deerfield's New Cafe

 


There’s something special about small-town life in the Pioneer Valley. It’s not just the rolling farmland or the friendly faces—it’s the way a new business can spark excitement and community pride. That’s exactly what happened when I read the article in the Greenfield Recorder about the new International Cafe and Deli opening its doors in South Deerfield.

For those who missed it, Hugh Manheim, a local farmer, took over the old BBA Deli Market on Thayer Street and transformed it into a fresh, welcoming spot that blends farm-grown produce, deli favorites, and a touch of international flair. The article struck a chord with me—not only because I love seeing local businesses thrive, but because I believe music has the power to celebrate these moments in a lasting, joyful way.

That’s how this bluegrass song was born.

Writing the Song

As a professional bluegrass musician and music teacher, I’ve always turned to music to tell stories about the people and places around me. After reading about the International Cafe, the lyrics practically wrote themselves. I wanted to honor both the legacy of the BBA Deli and the hopeful, hardworking energy Hugh is bringing to the space.

I picked up my mandolin, thought about that cozy stretch of Thayer Street, and let the melody flow—a lively, toe-tapping rhythm with plenty of room for banjo rolls, fiddle lines, and that classic bluegrass bounce. The lyrics pay tribute to the old and the new: Bozena and Alina’s Polish deli roots, the fresh produce from Manheim’s farm, and the global flavors now filling the shelves.

Recording the Track

The arrangement features classic bluegrass instrumentation:
🎻 Fiddle and Mandolin — That’s my wheelhouse, and I leaned into the bright, rustic sound that captures the Valley’s character.
🪕 Banjo — It brings the joyful, rolling energy that makes your foot tap whether you want it to or not.
🎸 Guitar — Steady rhythm to hold it all together.

I recorded the track at home and mixed it down in Audacity, keeping it raw and organic to match the spirit of the cafe. No overproduction, just authentic acoustic music that feels like it could be playing live on the cafe’s front porch.

A Song for the Community

Ultimately, this song isn’t just about a new place to grab a burger or a coffee—it’s about South Deerfield, its people, and the way small businesses weave into the fabric of our towns. Hugh’s adventure reminds me that whether it’s through food, farming, or music, building community is what keeps these places special.

If you find yourself near South Deerfield, swing by the International Cafe and Deli. And if you can’t make it there in person, give the song a listen and join me in celebrating this new chapter for our neighbors.

🎶 Listen to the song here
📖 Read the Recorder article

"No More Stickers" Strikes a Chord with New Hampshire’s HB649 Campaign


https://www.jeremyjolson.com/legislation/2025/hb649/

Picture this: the open roads of New Hampshire, the hum of engines, and the sweet sound of freedom from those pesky vehicle inspection stickers. That’s the vibe of my latest bluegrass anthem, No More Stickers, a song that’s not just a foot-stomping tune but a rallying cry for Granite Staters fed up with the so-called “sticker scam.” And guess what? This song caught the ear of the campaign behind HB649, a game-changing piece of legislation that’s peeling those stickers off our windshields for good. I’m beyond thrilled to share how my music became part of this historic movement!

The campaign, championed by Rep. Michael Granger and detailed on Jeremy J. Olson’s website (https://www.jeremyjolson.com/legislation/2025/hb649/), is all about giving New Hampshire drivers a break. HB649, now tucked into the state’s omnibus budget bill (HB2, §§ 244–256), puts an end to mandatory safety inspections by January 31, 2026, and, pending an EPA waiver, emissions tests by September 30, 2026. It’s a victory for everyone who’s ever grumbled about shelling out cash for inspections that felt more like a shakedown than a safety check. The article on Olson’s site lays it all out: the bill’s journey through the House, the Senate, and the budget conference committee, fueled by stories of “endless ripoffs and scams” from drivers across the state. It’s a tale of grassroots grit, with the House GOP and supporters shouting, “We ended the sticker scam!”

Enter No More Stickers. When I wrote this song, I wanted to capture that same frustration—the feeling of being nickel-and-dimed just to keep your car on the road. With its twangy banjo riffs, driving fiddle, and lyrics that paint a picture of rural rebellion, the song channels the spirit of New Hampshire’s independent streak. Lines like “No more stickers, let my wheels roll free” hit home for anyone who’s waited in line at a garage, wallet in hand, for a test that seemed more about profit than protection. It’s bluegrass with a purpose, blending the genre’s storytelling roots with a modern fight for fairness.

I was over the moon when the HB649 campaign picked up No More Stickers as part of their push. Seeing my song tied to a cause that’s resonating with so many feels like hitting the perfect chord. The article on Olson’s site doesn’t just break down the legislative nuts and bolts—it captures the energy of a movement. It names the key players, like the conference committee members who fought for the bill, and even lists their contact info, urging folks to keep the pressure on. It’s raw, real, and relentless, just like the stories of drivers who inspired my song. The campaign’s call to action—“keep contacting the House, Senate, and Governor!”—echoes the same fire I poured into the track.

What makes this moment so special is how it shows music’s power to amplify a message. No More Stickers isn’t just a song; it’s a piece of this victory, a soundtrack for the folks who spoke out and made HB649 happen. The article mentions “positive media coverage” boosting the campaign, and I like to think my song added a little harmony to that chorus. Whether it’s the banjo’s pluck or the crowd singing along, this track is a celebration of New Hampshire saying, “Enough is enough!”

As HB649 rolls out, with safety inspections ending next January and emissions tests likely following, I’m proud to know No More Stickers is part of the story. So crank up the tune, hit the road, and let’s toast to a sticker-free future in the Granite State. Here’s to the campaign, the drivers, and the music that brought us together—long may we roll!

Listen to the song, "No More Stickers": https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/no-more-stickers on Bandcamp, or https://soundcloud.com/sweetsongsproject/no-more-stickers on Soundcloud


Bringing the Cosmos Back to Earth: The Bluegrass Version of Interstellar Wanderer


Sometimes, a song just won’t sit still.

When I first wrote Interstellar Wanderer, it came together as a moody, synthwave track — all pulsing synths, dreamy arpeggios, and cosmic atmosphere. Inspired by the recent discovery of an interstellar object passing through our solar system, the song captured the awe and mystery of a visitor from beyond the stars.

But as I sat with the lyrics, I realized… this story doesn’t have to stay floating out in space. There’s something universal — and very down-to-earth — about wondering where we come from, and what might be out there watching us. And what better way to tell a universal story than with the raw honesty of bluegrass?

The Acoustic Journey
So I stripped the song down to its bones — just the words and the melody — and rebuilt it with acoustic instruments and a bluegrass heart. The result is a rootsy, foot-tapping, back porch version of Interstellar Wanderer that brings the cosmos right into your living room.

Meet the Pickers:
🎻 Adam Sweet — Fiddle & Mandolin (yours truly)
🎸 Pete Basinger — Guitar
🎤 John Reil — Banjo
🎶 Sarah McIntyre — Upright Bass

These talented folks brought warmth, energy, and just the right amount of mystery to the track. The banjo rolls hint at the object's steady drift, the fiddle lines echo the vast unknown, and the upright bass keeps everything grounded — just like Earth itself.

A Space Story with Roots
Even though the lyrics are still about a lonely traveler from the edges of the void, the bluegrass version feels like you're sitting by a campfire under the stars, telling stories about what lies beyond. It’s a reminder that even as we dream about the stars, our feet are still planted right here in the dirt.

Want to take a listen?
🎧 Interstellar Wanderer (Bluegrass Version): https://tinyurl.com/InterstellarWandererBG

Curious how the song came together? Get the full Behind the Scenes of the original and this acoustic version here:
🎛 https://tinyurl.com/BTSInterstellarWandererBG

Thanks for listening — and wherever you are, keep looking up.

Wednesday, July 2, 2025

Behind the Song: Northampton Nights


There’s something special about summer in the Pioneer Valley. The music drifts through the warm evening air, families gather under the trees, and the spirit of community feels like it hums right beneath your feet. That’s exactly what inspired me to write Northampton Nights — a klezmer-flavored celebration of our little corner of Western Mass when it comes alive.

It all started when I read an article about Northampton’s free summer concerts, the jazz nights on the Amherst Common, the literary events at Forbes Library… It hit me how lucky we are to live in a place where music, art, and storytelling fill the streets — and how those moments deserve a song of their own.

Klezmer always felt like the perfect musical language for this. It’s got soul, it’s got bounce, it’s got history — just like Northampton. I wanted Northampton Nights to carry that joyful, slightly nostalgic, always danceable energy that klezmer does so well.

I built the song around a 100 BPM groove with the clarinet leading the way — wailing, twisting, pulling at the heartstrings. The accordion hums underneath, giving it that unmistakable old-world warmth, while the fiddle dances through the melody, adding that Pioneer Valley lilt.

One of my favorite moments in the song is the line:
"Oh, the clarinet wails, the accordion sways,
Dancin’ through the heat of these July days."

It captures exactly how it feels to be out at Look Park or Amherst Common on a warm summer night, surrounded by music and friends.

Recording this one was a joy. I laid down the chords and melody first, then worked with some musician friends to add the clarinet, accordion, and fiddle tracks. There’s nothing quite like watching a song come to life as each layer weaves together. It reminded me why I love making music with others — it turns an idea into something shared.

Northampton Nights isn’t just about one event — it’s about those small-town summer moments that remind us why we love where we live. The late-night concerts, the laughter under the stars, the feeling that music connects us across generations and cultures.

I hope when you listen to this song, you feel that same sense of joy and belonging. You can stream Northampton Nights right here:
🎶 https://tinyurl.com/NorthamptonNights

If you’ve got your own favorite Northampton summer memories, I’d love to hear them — drop me a comment or a message anytime. And hey, maybe I’ll turn one of your stories into a song next.

Thanks for listening, and keep dancing.
— Adam Sweet

Behind the Song: Jake the Rizzbot


Some songs are born from heartache. Some from history. And then… every once in a while… a song comes along because a cowboy robot with Gen Z slang just needs a bluegrass jam.

That’s exactly how Jake the Rizzbot came to be.

I was scrolling through articles when I stumbled across a story that stopped me cold — a four-foot-tall humanoid robot wandering Austin, Texas, wearing a cowboy hat, silver chain, and tossing out phrases like “your drip’s clean, nephew.” His name? Jake the Rizzbot.

As soon as I saw him, I knew this little bot deserved a soundtrack.

I grabbed my guitar, worked out a playful bluegrass groove around 105 BPM, and started building the song from there. The melody had to be bouncy and light — think Austin street busker meets Appalachian front porch. I layered in the banjo rolls, added a fiddle line that practically dances on its own, and anchored it all with upright bass for that rootsy, foot-stompin' feel.

The lyrics tell the story of Jake — a cyber-cowboy strutting down Sixth Street with “boss energy,” charming crowds with his Texan twang and TikTok fame. I had fun sneaking in all the quirky details:
“Spittin’ Gen Z slang, now how ‘bout that?”
“Yo, your drip’s clean, nephew, that’s cold!”
“Battery’s low, might see him faint”

It’s equal parts silly, toe-tapping fun, and a little commentary on how fast tech, culture, and music collide these days. I love that I get to work with great musicians who can bring these goofy, energetic tunes to life — the fiddle player nailed that cheeky vibe, and the banjo track gives it just enough twang to feel right at home in Texas… or New Hampshire… or wherever you like your bluegrass with a side of sci-fi.

If you’ve ever wondered what happens when bluegrass meets robotics — well, wonder no more.

🎶 You can listen to Jake the Rizzbot here: https://tinyurl.com/JakeTheRizzbot

Y’all ready to rizz up the dancefloor? 🤠🎻

Thanks for listening — and keep your eyes peeled for cowboy robots… they might just inspire your next song too.

— Adam Sweet


Behind the Song: Wreck of the Adriatic


Some songs arrive quietly, like a wave slipping over the shore — soft, haunting, inevitable. That’s exactly how Wreck of the Adriatic came to life.

It started with a headline that caught my eye: “18th-century shipwreck found near Dubrovnik.” I couldn’t help but click. They’d uncovered the remains of a wooden merchant ship, hidden just three feet below the waves off the Croatian coast — forgotten for centuries until a modern construction project stirred the sands.

There was something eerily beautiful about it. A vessel that once carried trade goods, sailors' songs, and the ambitions of a bygone world — lost to the tides, only to whisper back to us centuries later.

That story stuck with me. I picked up my acoustic guitar, set the tempo low at 85 BPM, and let the melody drift in — delicate, mournful, a little ghostly. I wanted the song to feel like you were walking along the Adriatic shore, hearing the echoes of that forgotten ship beneath the waves.

I layered in soft percussion and a fiddle line that weeps like the wind through Dubrovnik’s old harbor. The vocals? I kept them ethereal, almost distant — as if the sea itself were singing.

The lyrics tell the tale:

"Beneath the waves, where shadows sleep,
A wooden ghost lies cold and deep…"

It’s part history, part folklore — imagining the sailors, the silk, the salt air… and the silence that swallowed them whole.

Recording this one felt different. It wasn’t just another track — it was like building a small tribute to lives lost, stories forgotten, and how the sea never really gives up its secrets.

Wreck of the Adriatic is out now — a quiet indie folk song for dreamers, history lovers, and anyone who's ever stared at the ocean and wondered what sleeps beneath.

🎶 Listen here: https://tinyurl.com/WreckoftheAdriatic

Thanks for letting me share this little musical ghost story with you.

— Adam Sweet 

Behind the Song: No More Stickers


Sometimes a song sneaks up on you. Other times, it practically writes itself the minute you read the news. That’s exactly what happened with No More Stickers — my latest bluegrass foot-stomper straight outta the hills of New Hampshire.

If you’ve been following the headlines, you’ve probably seen it: New Hampshire is ditching mandatory car inspections for most vehicles. To some folks, it’s a victory for personal freedom. To others, it’s a recipe for bald tires, rusty frames, and chaos on the backroads.

As a songwriter — especially one who’s spent plenty of time roaming those piney roads myself — I couldn’t resist turning that debate into a bluegrass banger.

A Song Born from the Granite State

I grabbed my fiddle and banjo and let the New Hampshire spirit lead the way. The result? A 100 BPM mountain jam with all the ingredients: rolling banjo, wailing fiddle, upright bass, and vocals with that unmistakable Yankee edge.

The lyrics pretty much tell the story as it unfolded:

"Out in Granite State, where the pine trees sway,
They’re tossin’ out inspections, startin’ New Year’s Day…"

Of course, I had to throw in the voices from both sides — the libertarians hollerin’ for freedom, the worried mechanics warning of busted ball joints, and even the car dealers wringing their hands over safety.

Recording the Track

For this one, I wanted it to sound raw, lively, and full of that back-porch energy. I laid down the melody and chords on mandolin first, then brought in a friend to tear it up on banjo. The fiddle part practically wrote itself — a little lonesome, a little playful, just like a New Hampshire backroad.

The upright bass keeps it steady, like the hum of tires on old country roads. I kept the mix simple, so the vocals, fiddle, and banjo all have room to shine — and that rural feel stays front and center.

A Song with a Wink

At its core, No More Stickers is a fun, fast bluegrass tune. But like a lot of folk music, it carries a little commentary under the surface — about freedom, safety, and the constant push and pull that makes New England what it is.

Whether you’re cheering the decision or nervously checking your brakes, this one’s for you. So kick up some dust, tap your foot, and maybe give your old sedan a once-over… just in case.


🎶 No more stickers, let the wheels spin free…
Listen to the track here: https://tinyurl.com/WhyNoMoreStickers


Thanks for listening — and as always, stay safe out there… potholes and all.

— Adam Sweet

Tuesday, July 1, 2025

What I've Been Working On: Songs, Storms & Space


One of the best parts about being a songwriter is that you never really know where the next song is going to come from. It might sneak up on you during a walk, land in your head in the middle of the night, or—in my case this past week—come from a painting, a scientific article, or a story about whales.

It’s been a busy, creative stretch for me, and I thought I’d share a little behind the scenes about what I’ve been working on lately. Three new songs, three very different inspirations—but all with the same process at heart: a spark of curiosity, a melody taking shape, and the help of some incredibly talented friends who help bring these ideas to life.



1. Summer Storm

🎧 Listen here
📝 Read the story behind the song

This one started with a painting. I was scrolling through social media and came across Summer Storm, a piece by artist Jim Musil. It stopped me cold—the wide, open prairie, the dark clouds rolling in, the electric tension of that moment right before a storm breaks loose. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I grabbed my mandolin, started strumming a few chords, and the first lyric just fell out:

"The clouds roll in with a heavy sigh,
A prairie stretch where the wild winds fly..."

From there, the rest of the song took shape fast. I wanted to capture the mood of that storm—the rumble of thunder, the smell of rain on dry earth, the wild beauty of the plains. I wrote the melody and the chords myself, then hired a guitarist to lay down a steady, rootsy track that really grounded the song.

For the vocals, I called on a friend with that perfect, twangy voice—the kind that sounds like it belongs on a dusty country road. He nailed it, adding warmth and grit in all the right places. I mixed it down in Audacity, keeping things raw and honest.

It's a simple track, but it paints a picture. And to me, that’s what songwriting’s all about.



2. Ocean Gift

🎧 Listen here
📝 Behind the Song

This song took me underwater—literally. I read an article about orcas bringing gifts to humans: fish, shells, even bits of seaweed. It wasn’t fiction—it was happening off the coast of Europe and beyond. That image stuck with me—the ocean's most intelligent, mysterious creatures rising from the deep, offering a token of connection.

The lyrics came quickly:

"A salmon offered, a gesture grand,
A fleeting touch from a fin to hand..."

For this one, I wanted the music to feel gentle, spacious, and a little mystical. I wrote the melody and chords, keeping them simple and flowing, like waves. I hired a guitarist to lay down the track with a clean, open feel—almost like the song is breathing.

But I knew my own voice wouldn’t fit the vibe. So I called up a friend and colleague who has just the right tone—a little worn, a little salty, like sea air. His vocal performance brought the whole thing together.

Again, I mixed the track in Audacity—nothing overproduced, just enough to let the song drift along like the tide.



3. Cosmic Halo

🎧 Listen here
📝 Behind the Song

Sometimes the cosmos hands you a song. That’s how it felt with Cosmic Halo.

I came across an article on Space.com about a massive halo of high-energy particles surrounding a distant galaxy cluster—a structure from the early universe, still glowing, still pulsing with energy billions of years later. That image was too good to pass up.

This track is pure high-energy psytrance. 140-145 BPM, pulsing bass, glitchy synths, cosmic textures—everything designed to feel like you're raving through the stars.

I laid down the structure, programmed the beats, built the cosmic synth layers, and sampled my own voice for that hypnotic vocal hook:

"Spin the light, feel the trance..."

It’s a heavier track than I usually write, but it felt right for the subject. I worked with a couple of great engineers to polish the mix and really dial in the energy. The result is a track that feels like drifting through space—until the bass drops and you’re suddenly caught up in the cosmic dance.


The Best Part? The People.

If there’s one thing I love as much as writing songs, it’s getting to collaborate with so many amazing musicians, singers, and engineers who help bring these songs to life.

Sometimes I handle the writing, recording, and mixing myself. Other times, I bring in people who can elevate the track in ways I couldn’t on my own—whether it’s the guitarist who captures the perfect rootsy vibe, the singer who delivers that ocean-worn vocal, or the engineers who help turn my cosmic experiments into something you actually want to crank up loud.

I’ve always believed music is meant to be shared—not just with listeners, but with fellow creatives. And I feel lucky to work with so many talented folks to make these songs real.


Want to Hear for Yourself?

All three of these songs are available to stream and download now. A couple are free, because sometimes a song is just a gift to share.

🎶 Summer Stormhttps://tinyurl.com/MusilsSummerStorm
🌊 Ocean Gifthttps://tinyurl.com/OceanGift
🌌 Cosmic Halohttps://tinyurl.com/CosmicHalo

Hope you enjoy what I’ve been working on—and thanks for supporting independent music.

See you down the road,
— Adam Sweet

Behind the Song: Ocean Gift

 


Some songs come from personal experience. Others are sparked by a story that grabs hold of your imagination and won't let go. Ocean Gift falls firmly in that second category.

A few months back, I stumbled across an article from New Scientist about orcas bringing gifts to humans — fish, shells, even bits of seaweed. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was happening for real, out there on the open water. That image — of these powerful, intelligent creatures rising from the deep to offer something — stirred something in me. What did it mean? A peace offering? Curiosity? Connection? Maybe all of the above.

That’s where the song began.

The melody came first. I wanted it to feel fluid and gentle, like being rocked by the waves. I wrote the chords on guitar, kept them simple — just enough movement to give that sense of drifting, of ebb and flow. I hired a guitarist to lay down the final track because I wanted that clean, spacious sound — something with room to breathe, like the open sea itself.

For the vocals, I knew I wasn’t the right voice for the lead. This song needed someone with a certain softness, but also a little grit — like the salt wind off the water. Luckily, a good friend and colleague stepped in. His voice brought exactly the right tone — part wonder, part mystery.

We recorded and mixed the song in Audacity, keeping the production minimal to let the words and melody shine through. Speaking of words, some of my favorite lines come straight from that first spark of inspiration:

“A salmon offered, a gesture grand,
A fleeting touch from a fin to hand.”

And of course, the heart of the song is the chorus — that call to drift closer to the mystery:

“Oh, ocean song, carry me near,
Whale voices call, wild and clear.”

Ocean Gift isn’t just about orcas. It’s about the fragile, surprising connections between worlds — human and animal, land and sea, known and unknown.

If you’ve ever stood on the shore and wondered what waits beyond the waves, this one’s for you.


🎧 Listen to Ocean Gift here: https://tinyurl.com/OceanGift

Behind the Song: Summer Storm


Some songs start with a melody. Some with a lyric. For Summer Storm, it all started with a painting.

Recently, I came across Jim Musil’s artwork called Summer Storm — a sweeping prairie scene with dark clouds rolling in and that electric, charged feeling you get right before the sky opens up. I couldn’t stop looking at it. The mood of it stuck with me — wide open, a little wild, that quiet moment before everything changes.

I grabbed my mandolin, started humming a melody, and the first words that came out were:

"The clouds roll in with a heavy sigh, a prairie stretch where the wild winds fly..."

From there, the song almost wrote itself. I wanted to capture the sound and feel of that storm — the wind, the lightning, the way the land holds its breath.

I wrote the melody and the chords, keeping it simple but driving — something with space for the story to breathe. To get the right feel, I hired a guitarist who could lay down that steady, rootsy acoustic track. It had to feel grounded, like standing out in the open, watching the clouds gather.

For the vocals, I turned to a friend and colleague of mine — he’s got that real country twang, the kind of voice that sounds like it belongs on a song about storms rolling across the plains. He nailed it.

Finally, I mixed everything down in Audacity — nothing fancy, just keeping it raw and honest. I didn’t want to over-polish it. The whole point was to keep that wild, open-sky feeling alive in the track.

A few favorite lines from the song that still give me chills:

"Your lightning dances on the plain, I’m caught up in your wild refrain…”

and from the bridge:

"The wind wraps round like a lover’s arm, a fleeting kiss full of reckless charm..."

Summer Storm is free to stream and download right now. You can listen here: https://tinyurl.com/MusilsSummerStorm

It’s a small musical tribute to Jim Musil’s painting — and to that feeling of standing out on the prairie, watching the storm roll in, knowing everything might be different once it passes.

Hope you enjoy it — and as always, thanks for listening.

— Adam Sweet

Monday, June 30, 2025

A Song of Simple Music



In threads of sound so soft and clear,
Where melody walks without fear,
No tangled knots, no cryptic lines,
Just open hearts and steady signs.

A gentle hum, a whispered tune,
It rises softly with the moon,
No labyrinth of chords to chart,
Just simple notes that touch the heart.

The singer hums, the children sway,
The elders smile, the hands all play,
For music's gift, when pure and free,
Is found in sweet simplicity.

No scholar's tongue, no master's hand,
Can claim the song that all understand,
A tune you carry down the lane,
That lingers like a soft refrain.

It isn't bound by time or place,
It needs no gilded frame or lace,
Just sing it plain, and true, and right—
A melody to share the light.