Close to Home

Song story & origins

Introduction

Close to Home is an instrumental from No Standing (2011). It later returned on The Road Behind (2015), a remastered collection of instrumentals. I highlighted it again during Vote Spearfish Week (January 14–21, 2020), when Spearfish was a finalist for Small Business Revolution—part of a short run of daily pieces celebrating the canyon and trail country where we live.

Where it came from

A friend, Ryan Phillips, invited me to shape a record for the new Black Hills ultramarathon he was launching—runners could choose 100 miles or 50. I’m not a runner; I’m a hiker. So I conceived the set for people moving through the Hills—running, strolling, or (to borrow John Muir’s word) sauntering—with headphones on, letting music carry them along the trail system here. Close to Home wound up as the final track, because the feeling it chases is that last turn toward the house after a day outside. You’ve found new spots, or you’re on a familiar path noticing what the season has changed—maybe a tree downed by wind or lightning, or new flowers that took hold this year. Then you round a bend and realize: you’re almost home, almost to a cold drink of water and a few minutes to reflect on the day.

Albums and timing

Close to Home closed No Standing (2011), which I mapped loosely like a long effort—from start to finish, tension to release. I brought it back for The Road Behind (2015) when I gathered and remastered the instrumentals. In that 2020 Spearfish series, it reappeared as part of a week deliberately focused on local beauty.

Music and arrangement

The piece is built over a consistent rhythm track that never changes; what changes is what you layer on top.

It starts with two electric guitars: one laying out the chord structure that carries the piece, another playing incidental lead phrases.

As the song builds, I bring in bass—specifically stand-up bass—whose feel is different from the underlying percussion. The bass has a swing to it—boom, boom, boom, boom—which, laid against the steady beat, creates a surprising rhythmic feel. The pulse is still the same; the perception shifts.

That push leads into a jazz-leaning section. I add piano—simple, because I’m playing it—and I played it live (not MIDI) by keeping the piece in a key I could improvise into with a little practice.

From there I move to acoustic guitar, my most comfortable voice, for jazz-inspired lead lines near the middle and into the back half.

A fun bit of design trivia: every track on No Standing sits at 120 BPM. Someone once told me that’s the beat of the human heart (obviously our hearts vary); whether or not that’s physiologically precise, the steady 120 felt like a strong, natural gait for moving through the Hills.

The finish (and the image behind the title)

Near the end, the extra layers drop away. We return to that original drumbeat and those two distant electrics, and the music dies out gently—like stepping off the path and into the yard. Our cabin sits with a large grassy area that runs straight to a trail into the woods; walking out of the trees and into that yard is the picture in my head when the arrangement thins and settles. That’s Close to Home: a trail day’s adventure, and the deep little joy of arriving.

Why it stays with me

It was written to move bodies (runners, hikers, saunterers), but it’s also a small map of attention—a reminder to notice what’s changed, listen for the season, and let the rhythm carry you to the place where the trail becomes home.

Source: New Music Memoir (1).docx