INTRODUCTION
There are artists who chase the spotlight, and then there are artists who quietly shape the soul of a scene. Todd Snider belonged firmly to the second group. Long before tribute concerts and packed rooms, he was known as a musician’s musician — the kind of songwriter whose influence spreads not through charts, but through conversations, shared stages, and songs passed hand to hand like trusted stories.
The event titled Play a Train Song The Songs of Todd Snider A Tribute was never meant to be just another show. It was designed as a gathering — one that reflects the way Todd Snider lived and worked. He booked shows in places others overlooked, returned often, and built lasting relationships with local artists and audiences in Green Bay and the Fox Valley. Over time, those appearances planted roots, and when the time came to honor him, the response was immediate and heartfelt.
According to organizer Carl Laes, the goal was simple but meaningful: bring together the musicians who were shaped by Snider’s work and let the songs speak for themselves. In doing so, the tribute highlights why Todd Snider earned the reputation he did. He wrote songs that weren’t flashy, but they were fearless — honest observations of life, delivered with wit, humility, and a storyteller’s ear. Those qualities made his work deeply respected within the musician community.
What makes this tribute especially powerful is the sense of unity behind it. More than a dozen regional artists stepped forward, each bringing their own voice to Snider’s catalog. Acts such as Wagon Roots, featuring Michael Bleck and Jen Polster, along with Billy Dave Sherman, represent different corners of the local music landscape, yet all trace part of their artistic lineage back to Snider’s influence. For them, performing these songs is not imitation — it is conversation.
Billy Dave Sherman has spoken openly about why participating mattered to him. It wasn’t about recognition. It was about gratitude. In local scenes, where musicians rely on each other as much as audiences, figures like Todd Snider become anchors. They show what it means to stay authentic while staying generous with opportunity. That lesson carries forward long after the final note fades.
The tribute also reaches beyond music. Proceeds from the event support Paul’s Pantry, reinforcing another value Snider embodied — community care. Jen Polster’s contribution of original artwork, with a portion of sales benefiting the pantry, adds a visual layer to the tribute, reminding attendees that creative influence often crosses mediums.
Held at the Riverside Ballroom in Green Bay, the event invites participation rather than exclusivity. No tickets are required. Instead, a suggested donation and food contributions emphasize accessibility and shared purpose. This approach mirrors the spirit of Todd Snider himself — music as something given, not guarded.
In the end, Play a Train Song is not about nostalgia. It is about continuity. It shows how one songwriter’s commitment to truth, humility, and community can ripple outward, shaping scenes he never claimed to own. For older listeners who understand the value of lived-in songs and for musicians who recognize the quiet giants among them, this tribute stands as proof that influence is not measured by fame — but by how many voices carry your songs forward.