Name: Skeeball is its Own Reward (Indie-Pop) by Phrases and Phases Publishing
Duration: 3 min 37 s
Description: This one’s built like a flashback with a beat. Mid-tempo indie pop dressed in soft synths and arcade glints—coin drop tones, score flashes, and memories caught in motion. A warm track about small joys and the games we keep playing long after the lights go down.

A slow-crawling, smoke-thick Swamp Blues sermon on faith, patriarchy, and institutional rot. Fingerpicked electric guitar slides through the muck while the vocal delivers each line like it’s carved into cypress bark—measured, resolute, and ready to burn the pulpit down. There’s no shouting here, just a gospel of quiet refusal. The steam rises. The judgment simmers. And the truth doesn't knock—it waits, glowing red, in the waterline.

A Pillar of Salt

Lyrics/License

A Pillar of Salt (Swamp Blues)

A stripped-down gospel soul version of “Pass the Peas,” delivered with quiet conviction and foot-worn grace. A female voice—weathered, warm, unwavering—leads the way through verses of legacy, struggle, and ritual. Acoustic and unhurried, this take trades groove for grit, with harmonies rising like memory behind her. It’s not performative—it’s practiced. An altar made of wood, breath, and repetition.

Pass the Peas

Pass the Peas (Gospel Soul)

Bell-Bottom Stride (Vintage Funk) reimagines a lyrical time capsule as a strutting, horn-laced groove straight out of 1973. Channeling the swagger of Curtis Mayfield and the streetwise poetry of Gil Scott-Heron, this version blends classic funk textures with a vocal that’s half sermon, half smirk. It’s a love letter to Blaxploitation cinema, underground pride, and the sacred ritual of walking tall—if only for 90 minutes in a darkened theater.

Bell-Bottom Stride

Bell-Bottom Stride (Vintage Funk)

A defiant stomp-hymn built from dust and memory.
A Pillar of Salt opens with stripped, percussive tension—just voice and footfall, like someone testifying through gritted teeth. The verses march. The choruses rupture. Electric guitar crashes in like a flood—controlled, searing, inevitable.

It’s a reckoning with belief, betrayal, and the price of disobedience.
A song for those who looked back—and didn’t regret it.

A Pillar of Salt (Industrial Folk-Rock)

A slow-burning lo-fi hip-hop confessional built around fingerpicked acoustic guitar and soft boom-bap drums. “Baggage Claim” reflects on what we carry—regret, memory, hope—with hushed vocals and a steady, introspective pulse. No frills. Just the quiet rhythm of emotional weight, repacked and replayed.

Baggage Claim (Lo-Fi Hip-Hop)

A stark ambient folk noir track built on spacious acoustic guitar and hushed, unflinching vocals. “Cold Comfort” traces the quiet brutality of emotional detachment with slow-burning clarity. There’s no catharsis here—just silence, distance, and the ache of connection refused. Minimalist. Bitter. Beautifully restrained.

Cold Comfort (Folk Noir)

This one’s built like a flashback with a beat. Mid-tempo indie pop dressed in soft synths and arcade glints—coin drop tones, score flashes, and memories caught in motion. A warm track about small joys and the games we keep playing long after the lights go down.

Skeeball is its Own Reward

Skeeball is its Own Reward (Indie-Pop)

A swagger-fueled funk rock anthem built on punchy drums, strutting guitar, and brass-laced defiance. “You Gotta Tug” is a no-shortcuts sermon dressed in groove—equal parts grit and gospel. Every line hits like a call to action. No polish, just pressure. If you want it? Tug.

You Gotta Tug

You Gotta Tug (Funk Rock)

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Phrases and Phases Publishing is a one-man label, archive, and reality-refraction field. Founded by J. Adam Walters - lawyer-turned lyricist, satirist, and architectural dropout from polite society - it's the home for songs that shouldn't exist, poems that go to far, and fictional universes with better paperwork than the Library of Congress. 

From folk elegies to parody rap to theocratic cartoon trauma epics, everything here is written by a human who uses AI as a collaborator and instrument rather than an outsourced brain, and finished only when it reaches a space where laughing hurts, or hurting laughs.

Skeeball is its Own Reward (Indie-Pop)

Phrases and Phases Publishing

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