Ben Longberg

Ben Longberg

 Nashville, Tennessee, USA

From sweet sunlight serenades to anxiety filled ranting, his lyrics compell you to contemplate as his passion takes your breathe away. His goal is a simple one, to make you feel like you aren’t at a concert, or listening to a cd at all, but sitting in his living room as he displays his soul.


It was 1980. It was 7:08pm on a Saturday night. I saw my first light bulbs. I knew right from the start I was going to be doomed to turn-on. . . turn-off. . . turn-on...

It wasn't long before I gave my heart away. I was five. Regan Clark. . . it was pre-school love. Coincidently, one of my longest relationships, because it was so pure. See, it involved... like... holding hands... seeing each other at pre-school... and garbage pail kids.

I had a speech impediment. My mother says you could always tell what song I was singing because the melody was right on, but you couldn't understand the words. That brings me to third grade, where I encountered a speech pathologist who taught me to speak with peanut butter in my mouth. I owe her big. (Dramatization: Girl 1: You remember Ben from 2nd grade? Girl 2: Yeah he's cute, but he talks funny! Girl 1: Not anymore! He learned how to talk right! Girls: He's Dreamy! ***insert girls fighting*** )

I fell in love when I was ten, and the first songs were really bad. I still have the original papers I wrote them on, so I know for sure. For that matter, I could sing them to you.. if you wanted to be annoyed. But if you really wanted a treat, there is a certain cassette tape with a ten year old playing piano and singing. Too bad Shannon never dumped her boyfriend (not bitter at all). But in retrospect... why didn't I date Thea... or Tina... or Lisa... oh... right... I was ten.

I was not the musical one. My sister was the musical one. She always sang in choirs and went to music festivals. She has a gorgeous voice.

Ben, meet Guitar. Guitar, meet Ben. I was nineteen. She was an Epiphone PR-200. I had wanted to play guitar my whole life, but I never had one. Thus ended my pursuit of being a computer engineer, and began my life of black-and-blue fingers. No they didn't ever "Summer of 69," but I played until my fingers were purple and swollen.

I found God, and I wrote.
I fell in love, and I wrote.
My heart broke, and I wrote.
I stubbed my toe, and I wrote.
(repeat many times)

Pittsburg, Kansas. I somehow landed in Pittsburg (no h). Here I would learn to play in front of people. I worship led for Family Life Assembly of God as well as Pittsburg State University's Chi Alpha chapter. For that matter, I played any place anyone would let me. I remember walking into a bar in Wichita, KS just to check on if they booked singers. I opened that night. There were no flyers, no MySpace announcements.

Pittsburg is where my heart broke. (Literally + Figuratively) There was a girl, and then she was just in my head.

My heart gets a face lift. So a story isn't a story without a twist. I was twenty-four when I found out I was born with a bi-cusped aortic valve, more commonly referred to Aortic Insufficiency (aka, I had a screwed up heart). The doctors gave me 5-15 years before I would require surgery. That was a little off, as 5 months later I received a phone call from my doctor, telling me... "We're looking for a good day." That day was a month later... for those not good with math, that is 6 months, not 5 years.

A good day was May 11th, 2005. I was wheeling on a hospital gurney with my family and pastor in a waiting room. I met God that day. I know that sounds super holy-roller. But it's the truth. I spent a half an hour in his arms while he taught me to breathe.

I learned to walk again. No I didn’t break my legs. But a side effect of invasive heart surgery is… your lungs collapse, and you have to recover from pneumonia-like effects. That effect meant that I couldn’t walk across the porch when I got out of the hospital. So I learned to walk again, slowly. I remember one valiant day I was feeling spry and thought I’d walk around my block. The only thing I failed to do… was the math. A block has 4 sides, which math majors know equals four blocks. I slept the rest of the day. After 5 months, I jumped.

I moved to Nashville, home to a billion bad songwriters, a billion good songwriters, and 24 people who have actually made money doing music. (You know who they are, they wear sweatpants.)

Currently, I wear a lot of hats. I’m a web developer, graphic designer, videographer, producer, rock-star, singer, guitar player, musician, contractor, tile guy. So basically if you want someone to create a website about remodeling your bathroom while writing songs about the bathroom, then produce, record, and distribute those items to web. That could be me. Or I could just be that ten year old, sitting on a swing, writing a song.


Red - Pre-Production Demo Release (11 Tracks)

Memories - 6 track EP recorded and produced at Middle Tennessee State Univeristy by Nathan Adam

Set List

Typically 1-2 hour set of original materal.