Leader of the Band
An only child alone and wild, a cabinet maker's son
His hands were meant for different work And his heart was known to none
He left his home and went his lone and solitary way
And he gave to me a gift I know I never can repay
A quiet man of music denied a simpler fate
He tried to be a soldier once, but his music wouldn't wait
He earned his love through discipline-- a thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls took me years to understand
(Chorus) The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band
My brothers' lives were different for they heard another call
One went to Chicago and the other to St Paul
And I'm in Colorado when I'm not in some hotel
Living out this life I've chose and have come to know so well
I thank you for the music and your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go
I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don't think I said 'I love you' near enough
(Chorus) The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band
I am a living legacy to the leader of the band
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When Fogelberg dropped out of school to tour as a musician his father, silent for a long time, finally agreed, "Okay, I don't agree with this, but if this is really what you want, you go try it for a year. If it doesn't work out, you come back and go back to school." This was the greatest gift his father could give him, inspiring Fogelberg years later to write "Thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go" in his famous tribute to his father, "Leader Of The Band". In 1979 he brought his show to Carnegie Hall in New York, one of the proudest moments of his life. His parents were there, allowing him to finally prove to his father, as if there were any doubt, that he, too, was a legitimate musician. His father had only been to the historic hall once, many decades earlier, to see Arturo Toscanini conduct the New York Philharmonic. It was a night neither of them ever forgot.
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