“The Devil Wants More” is a raw blues-rock/folk song about exhaustion, survival, and the endless demands life throws your way — whether it’s money, blood, or just one more climb when you’re already worn down. I wrote it as a reflection of hitting the same walls over and over, knowing the game but still being forced to play it. Recorded in a single take, it’s dark, gritty, and rough around the edges by design — for fans of Mark Lanegan, Nick Cave, and classic protest songs.

You throw a rope down to my head
There’s no hope and no regrets
I might just have one climb in me
Or hang it all for you to see
And as I take a breath I know 
That this all looks the same
I have played this game before

I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before 
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more

A letter from the IRS
Says pay us more and we’ll take less
A pint of blood to fill the need
And keep the wolves as calm as me
As I watch my step I know
That this all looks the same
Yeah I have played this game before

I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more

I might just have one climb in me
Or hang it all for you to see
And as I take a breath I know
That this all looks the same
I have played this before
Yeah I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before
I’ve been here before
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more
The devil wants more

The Devil Wants More

The first song I ever wrote. A song to God. It’s a sort of hymn for the broken.

I don’t pretend to think I know you
I don’t pretend to think you care
But after all of this we go through
You make me feel like I’m not there

Breathe a new life
Breathe a new life in me
Breathe it in 
oh the shape I’m in 
I won’t be long
I won’t be long
I won’t be long
I won’t be long

Ten years ago and still it’s haunting 
Ten years ago since you’ve been dead
Yeah I still feel as if you owe me
Even though you were never there

Breathe a new life
Breathe a new life in me
Breathe it in
Oh the shape I’m in
I won’t be long
I won’t be long
I won’t be long
I won’t be long

Breathe

Sins of my father

Death Don’t Have No Mercy

A Stone Temple Pilots song I recorded on the day Scott Weiland died. For several years I was his personal assistant and we spent a lot of time together touring and at his home and studio in Los Angeles. Scott and his music have had a profound impact on my life.

And So I Know

If You Want Me To Stay

A song about the grind of work and life.

Rat Race
The sun has set but it don’t matter I’ve got more work for you.
Time tics away you’re toiled and troubled 
You hate the job you do
Don’t stop
You can’t give up ground
It’s a rat race til the cats come round
Keep the pace
You must pass the test 
Life ebbs away under the stress to build your nest 

You take the scraps from your master
Worship the cash he spends
But know at heart it’s only a pittance 
a means to achieve his end
Rise up and unleash the hounds watch the fat cats run as the dogs surround 
all their gawks.
The pain that they breed
Let the teeth sink in as their wallets bleed corporate greed

Rat Race

I Can’t Stand the Rain

Brother

Stripped-down version of Bob Marley’s classic reminder that “every little thing’s gonna be alright.” One mic, one guitar, one take.

Three Little Birds

Philip Winterbone is a singer-songwriter whose music carries the weight of lived experience — stories of loss, survival, and the search for meaning. Blending raw acoustic folk with echoes of rock and soul, his songs channel the spirit of Townes Van Zandt, Blaze Foley, and Scott Weiland — artists who shaped his journey as both a performer and a witness to the darker edges of life.

After years touring and working closely with Scott Weiland, Philip turned inward, crafting songs that balance vulnerability with grit. His music is stripped down and unpolished by design — a voice and guitar laying bare truth, pain, and moments of fragile hope.

Based in Oklahoma, Philip writes not for trends but for connection. Each track is a piece of memoir, a reminder that the beauty in music lies not in perfection, but in honesty.

Sins of my father

Philip Winterbone

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