Twenty years of steady hands on the deer stand, and they finally shake. Not over the big ten-pointer, but over the girl in the camo cap who beat him to it and invited him over for coffee.
This song started as a joke between me and a friend. Every time I drop something new, he’s the first one to tell me what’s wrong with it. The vocals, the mix, the guitar, you name it. But he’s always the first one listening, too. He caught a word I changed halfway through a verse that nobody else noticed. You don’t do that unless you’re paying attention. So I wrote him a thank-you note. Set it to a country-blues shuffle and put it on Spotify, where I know he’ll find it. If you’ve got a friend like this, send it to them. They’ll hate it. They’ll play it twice.
Public service announcement to "Slow It Down on 69" A preacher, a lead-foot sinner, and a Chief Washburn all late for Sunday service. A dark swampy country-rock story song with slide guitar, a funky walking bassline, and a punchline in the collection plate.
Stand To Your Feet, Arab Knights Fight Song
He had his tab paid and his keys in his hand, with a settle down plan waiting on him. Then she stole a fry off his plate, and by Sunday morning he is asking to see her left hand.
I wrote “Always Press 9” for my friend Terry. It took several tries to get through it without squalling. His parents were my friends too, and they meant the world to me. Terry, I dedicate this song to you and the memory of two people we both loved dearly.
Seven years old behind the shed with cousin Odis, then around the old piano come Sunday. Aunt Doris took the top, Odis took the bottom, and the middle is where he learned harmony.
Three years of drought and a notice taped to the door. No thunder and no sky breaking open, just his mother kneeling beside him in the gravel drive, and seed going back in the ground come spring.
Every toolbox is missing a ten-millimeter socket, and he found his in a ball-cap girl who finds the lost one for him under the kitchen sink.
You can pay it off fair and square, and somebody still has a hand out.
Every man reaches a point where he has to look back at the road behind him. This song is about that moment: standing at the end of a long journey, owning the selfish ways, the words left unsaid, and the struggle to make peace in your own mind. It’s a love song, but not the easy kind. It’s about the person who stayed through all of it, who knew the truth when the world was telling lies. After traveling every road and highway looking for a story, he finds the answer was right beside him all along: the journey is the love. Just a man, trying to understand.
Ninety minutes in a waiting room, so he mailed the doctor an invoice. True story.
Friday night fight song for the Arab Knights. Blue and white, stands packed, nobody sitting down.
Locked out by one more password. For anybody who never asked for all this.
Neon, a packed floor and a girl who can move. Turn it up and do not think too hard.
Work boots by the door before sunup. Built by hand, built to stand.
Hometown pride from the town whose name came back misspelled and stayed that way. One letter off, and proud of it.
A man takes the blame for a killing to protect the little girl he never got to claim as his own.
Her mama says he is trouble and the whole town agrees. She keeps calling anyway.
The Bear Bryant is an original country song written and performed by Chad Sanders, released May 2025 under Pro Star Music & Studios.
I'll Be Okay is an original country song written and performed by Chad Sanders, released May 2025 under Pro Star Music & Studios.
A hundred people in the room and she walks in. Everything else goes quiet.
One iced in night, one power outage, and a boy with her smile and his blue eyes.
She is loud, she is chaos, she backed through the mailbox. She is exactly his speed.
She packed up and rolled out, and it still is not far enough.
A flirty, full throttle run at somebody, built on a basketball hook.
Friday night on the dirt roads. Four wheel drive, windows down, nowhere to be.
Highway 59 to sugar white sand, Gulf shrimp on the table, and no shoes required.
He left home at eighteen certain he knew better. That bell kept ringing him back.
A small town knows your business before you do, and shows up when the floor drops out.
He tells the breakup story to anybody who asks. Every word is true, and he leaves out his own part.
Two kids, a moonlit dirt road, and right now instead of forever.
He knows her coffee and her side of the bed. Her heart keeps changing, and he is still learning it.
Small Town Red White and Blue is an original country song written and performed by Chad Sanders, released April 2024 under Pro Star Music & Studios.
What really happened the night that marriage ended, and what pride cost him after.
A grandson asks what his grandpa would make of the country he fought for.
Grandma spills a bowl of peaches to make a point. Cut out the bruise and keep what is still good.
He had to leave Alabama to find out his roots never went anywhere.
Black hat low, boots on the beat, one slow look across a crowded floor.
Barefoot on the kitchen floor and coffee at daylight. No money, no fame, no long list. Just her.
They met through a friend, a hospital front desk and an IT badge. The promise he made after has not moved since.
Written for his daughter. An old guitar, the years that got away, and finding their way back.
A four year old hands him everything broken, certain her daddy can fix it.
Ride The Rhythm was written for the RHBAA Racking Horse Breeders Association of America.
This song was written for Jerry, Lynda, and Karen, and for their Mom and Dad, about the Christmases they shared when the kids were young. It started with stories from my mother-in-law, Mrs. Betty, about Christmas in their twin house in Fox Chase Pennsylvania. Every year the kids were kept up past bedtime, pressed against the window in their pajamas, waiting on Grandmom and Grandpop to ride the train out from Philadelphia through the snow. The girls had their dolls lined up, Jerry had his Hess truck lit up under the tree, and when the headlights finally came around the corner the house filled up with coats, hugs, and snow tracked across the floor. Then came the part Mrs. Betty remembers most: plates piled high, everybody laughing, Daisy the Keeshond curled up asleep in her lap, and the kids fighting to keep their eyes open. She’d look around at everyone she loved under one roof and say to herself, “It don’t get no better than this.” Those kids are grown now with families of their own, and Grandmom and Grandpop are long gone. But every time the first snow sticks, those nights come right back. This one is for all of them.
"Christmas in Alabama" is a warm, front-porch country Christmas song about coming home to the South for the holidays. There's no snow, just plastic snowmen in the yards, pumpkin pie, cousins coming in through the screen door, and Momma saving a place at the table. Sleigh bells, celesta, piano, and hand claps carry a feel-good story about trading big-city lights for the people you love at the end of a two-lane road. It's a reminder that home is where Christmas really happens. A feel-good Southern Christmas song about coming home. No snow, just pumpkin pie, family, and Momma's porch light at the end of a two-lane road.
He built rockets at Redstone and got beat by a popsicle stick star glued together by his four year old.
Waiting on his wife to make it home from a twelve hour ER shift on Christmas, one mile at a time.
The Christmas story told plain. He came for the broken, and He called your name.
Sixty two degrees and raining, cornbread in the skillet, and nowhere he would rather be.
Cotton in the field instead of snow, every chair filled, and the missing names said out loud.
Somebody is still out on the road at Christmas. The porch light stays on.
Four years old and too wound up to sleep, then years later standing on the other side of it.
The whole family piles in, and for one day the old house forgets how old it is.
Burnt turkey, a leaning tree, and not a saint in the house. He would not change a thing.
She laughs with his family like she has been there all her life, and he cannot look anywhere else.
A Southern Christmas kitchen. Pie on the counter, fire going, dancing while it snows outside.
All original songs are written and sung by Chad Sanders. Chad records his own vocals and guitar, while additional instrumentation may be created using AI-assisted virtual instruments and multitrack production.
HOW THE MUSIC IS MADE →
