Podcast: Purpleman's Rhythm -Where gospel meets grit. No creed, no king—only the hum of truth that rises from the heartland.

We started out as friends just jamming into the night. One song — Purpleman’s Rhythm — took off, written as a thank-you to our friend, The Purpleman, for standing strong in a divided world. Today, everything feels split between Woke and MAGA. But the future isn’t at the edges — it’s in the middle. Because sanity is compromise… and compromise is strength. We had fun, we tried different takes, cause everyone see’s life a little differently.

We started out as friends just jamming into the night. One song — Purpleman’s Rhythm — took off, written as a thank-you to our friend, The Purpleman, for standing strong in a divided world. Today, everything feels split between Woke and MAGA. But the future isn’t at the edges — it’s in the middle. Because sanity is compromise… and compromise is strength. We had fun, we tried different takes, cause everyone see’s life a little differently.

We started out as friends just jamming into the night. One song — Purpleman’s Rhythm — took off, written as a thank-you to our friend, The Purpleman, for standing strong in a divided world. Today, everything feels split between Woke and MAGA. But the future isn’t at the edges — it’s in the middle. Because sanity is compromise… and compromise is strength. We had fun, we tried different takes, cause everyone see’s life a little differently.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Dirge – A collection of dark soul-blues laments built on Hammond organ, slow hand-claps, and choral call-and-response. The “Purpleman” songs speak from the quiet middle—no sermon, no slogan—just the steady rhythm of conscience beneath the noise.

Sirens are wailing, the night won’t rest,
Purpleman’s rhythm pounding in my chest.
Chains are rattling, the streets still burn,
Truth is a lesson they don’t want to learn.

Footsteps fade where the fire once burned,
Streets lie silent, but the tide has turned.
Purpleman lingers in the cold night air,
A whisper, a warning — he’s still there.

Leaders spin lies like a busted-down reel,
Purpleman grins, makes ’em all feel the wheel.
Blue tears floodin’, red flames roarin’ wild,
He jumps the fence with a devilish smile.
Broken dreams twist into a jumpin’ jive,
Screamin’ for justice, keepin’ hope alive!

Sirens are wailing, the night won’t rest,
Purpleman’s rhythm pounding in my chest.
Chains are rattling, the streets still burn,
Truth is a lesson they don’t want to learn

Echoes in the alley, where the fringes fray,
Purpleman’s gaze cuts through the gray.
Far left’s venom twists the hope to chains,
Far right’s fire brands the innocent with pain.

Power in the people, rising from the ground,
Purpleman’s rhythm shaking all around.
No more hiding, no more chains,
We’re the fire running through the veins.