Chapter 1

Let it Fall

Shane used to say,
“Sometimes you just can’t seem to say the things you want to say. That’s what songs are for.”

Let It Fall came from one of those moments.

He was moving through a season where grief, fear, and love were all speaking at once — and the only language that could hold them was music.

Sound was where he told the truth.

In melody, he could stay with what could not be solved. He could hold what was unfinished, without needing to explain it away.

Let It Fall was one of the first songs where he allowed himself to do that-not as a performance, but as a way of making room for something gentler inside himself.

The first version of Let It Fall came on a quiet afternoon.

Shane had been carrying a lot — grief, memories, and the weight of wanting to be better than the versions of himself he was afraid of becoming. He sat down at the keys not with a plan, but with a feeling he didn’t know how to speak out loud.

The words came the way they always did for him: sideways and honest.

My boots are made of feathers
my feet are full of sand

It reads like a poem at first. Something fragile. Something searching. A voice trying to make sense of being human.

At its heart, the song is about finding room to breathe — about easing the grip of fear, shame, and the stories we tell ourselves when we’re trying to survive. Shane believed deeply that freedom begins when you stop punishing yourself for being imperfect. That message runs through so much of his writing, but here it arrives quietly, with tenderness.

Let It Fall is an invitation.

To breathe.
To soften.
To make space for what matters.

Over time, the song kept coming back to him.

Shane was someone who lived with his work. He didn’t rush things into being finished. He would return to a melody again and again, listening for what it was still trying to say. Let it Fall became one of those pieces — a quiet companion that grew alongside his life.

Years passed. So did seasons of change.

Life widened.
Love asked more of him.

He built and rebuilt homes.
He filled rooms with instruments, late-night sessions, laughter, and the soft glow of studio lights.
He kept writing — sometimes with joy, sometimes with urgency — always reaching for the place where he felt most himself.

Let It Fall moved with him through all of that. It still carries those years inside it.

As Shane listened more closely to his own voice, the song kept asking the same question in different ways:

What would it feel like to carry things more gently?

By the time it was finally recorded, it carried years inside it — the weight, the growth, the longing.

You can hear that in the way he sings it.
As someone allowing himself to be seen.

One of Shane’s favorite books was The Four Agreements.

He carried its ideas with him, especially the call to be impeccable with your words.That mattered to him in his songwriting. Lyrics weren’t just lines — they were promises. If he was going to say something in a song, it had to feel true all the way through.

That’s part of why Let It Fall stayed with him for so long.

Even when the song was finally recorded, even when it sounded full and complete, he still listened with the ear of someone who was always reaching for something truer- not because it wasn’t good, but because he believed the work of becoming never really ends.

Let it Fall holds that tension:
the longing to breathe more freely,
and the instinct to keep refining.

Both lived inside him.

The first time Shane shared Let It Fall in front of an audience was at the Bluebird Cafe in Nashville.

It was March 11, 2024 — just after his birthday, just before we were married. A season that felt bright and open, full of possibility. The kind of season you don’t know is precious until you’re already inside it.

The Bluebird Cafe is one of the most respected listening rooms in Nashville — a place where songwriters come to be heard, not hidden behind noise. Every breath, every pause, every word matters there. Shane loved that kind of closeness. It matched the way he wrote: honest, unguarded.

After months of trying, his name appeared on the March 11 list. When he sat at the keys and began to play, the room went still.

You can hear it in the sound — the way people lean in, the way the song holds the space. Shane wasn’t performing a version of himself. He was simply there, inside the music, letting it speak.

For him, that was always the point.

This was the first time Let it Fall stepped out of the private world of writing into the shared world of listening. A moment where something he had carried for years finally had room to exist beyond him.

And now, that moment still lives here — in the sound you just heard, in the space between the notes, in the place where his voice continues to reach.

Between the Music continues inside the archive. You’re invited to enter, and you’re welcome to move at your own pace as new chapters arrive over time.