Songs Never Heard

S1E2: Single Wide (Terry Tornblom)

• Robert Howell • Season 1 • Episode 2

Share episode

A southern rock riff that found its voice in small-town Canada.

Single Wide on SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/user-453487393-638909333/single-wide-no-master 

More of Terry's music:

Robert Howell:

My name is Robert Howell, and in this series I'll be sharing, and digging into, some of my favorite songs that I've come across during my time in the underground songwriting scene. Songs written by quietly talented people who are creating music on their own terms, in their own spare time. Songs that, more than likely, most of the world will never hear.

Welcome to Songs Never Heard.

Terry Tornblom had a catchy guitar riff and a story about someone losing everything. What he created was a song that finds empathy in the details. Here's "Single Wide."


Terry Tornblom:

​I had a single wide, it had a satellite dish on the side

Not much to have in life, but I was satisfied, and had some pride

But now I'm sitting here at the Husky

Waiting for my buddy to arrive

I had a single wide, it had a satellite dish on the side.


Maybe an hour ago when I telephoned, maybe he's not home

Maybe he's drunk or stoned, maybe he's not alone, I don't know

Maybe his old truck refused to go,

Because it's thirty-nine below

I had a single wide, it had a satellite dish on the side.


It went up in flames at thirty-nine below

I ran out half naked into the snow

My face was melting, my ass was froze

The widow came by with her husband's boots and coat


And she stood by my side

She remembers this is how my mother died

Mom was the waitress here 'til I was nine

They took me away, but I came back after a while.

I had a single wide, it had a satellite dish on the side.


Robert Howell:

Some songs take their time getting to the point. They ease you in with atmospheric intros or instrumental buildups before revealing what they're really about. "Single Wide" by Terry Tornblom is not one of those songs.

Within the first 15 seconds you hear the line, " I had a single wide, it had a satellite dish on the side," followed immediately by a catchy twangy guitar riff that grabs you and refuses to let go.

With just 13 words, Terry creates an instant visual while simultaneously raising questions that demand answers. The word "had" is doing important work here. It immediately tells us the story is about loss. Something happened to that trailer , and we need to know what.

The guitar riff that follows seals the deal. I want to hear it again. As soon as it's over, Together, that opening line and riff, create an irresistible combination. A compelling character with a story to tell, and music that makes you want to hear every word of it.

A songwriter might start with an idea they want to express, and then search for the music to carry it. "Single Wide" came to be from the completely opposite direction. Terry had a compelling guitar riff that was begging for the right story to tell.

The riff had been rattling around in Terry's head waiting for its moment. To his ear, it carried a distinctly southern rock feel. But Terry is Canadian, so that geographic disconnect presented an interesting creative challenge.

Rather than force a southern narrative onto his music, Terry let the riff guide him towards something closer to home. The result was a story that captured the same working class spirit as southern rock. But filtered through a distinctly Canadian lens, complete with husky gas stations and temperatures that dropped to 39 below.

If Terry had tried to write a generic southern rock song, "Single Wide" could have just been another entry in an overcrowded genre. Instead, by embracing his own experience while honoring the riff's inherent character, he created something that feels familiar and yet completely original.

Terry found the missing story for his southern rock riff on one of the coldest nights of the year. He'd arrived early for a gig at a village's local community hall, but the building wasn't open yet. While waiting in his truck, he noticed an abandoned single wide trailer across the street complete with its abandoned satellite dish.

As he sat there in the cold, Terry's mind made a connection. He remembered a barn fire that had happened years earlier on another extremely cold night. Pulling those two thoughts together, the abandoned trailer and the memory of that winter fire was, as Terry puts it, " more mechanical than inspirational," but it gave him exactly what he needed. The drama of losing a home.

That vacant trailer became the foundation for everything that followed in "Single Wide." A moment of waiting and noticing, combined with an old memory, became the seed for an entire narrative about loss and the thin line between having something and having nothing at all. 

With the abandoned trailer and the memory of the barn fire, now Terry could develop his narrative. And he wanted to populate it with the kind of detail that would make it feel real. The choices he made reveal a songwriter who understands that the right words don't just describe, they paint pictures that fuel a listener's imagination.

Take the satellite dish. Terry could have noticed any feature on that trailer, but he zeroed in on something that suggested this was once someone's home, not just an oversized piece of junk. The Husky Gas Station where the narrator waits isn't just any restaurant, it's a distinctly Canadian reference that places the story both geographically and culturally.

Even the temperature, 39 below, was chosen specifically because 40 below is where the Celsius and Fahrenheit scales converge. Making it universally freaking cold, while perfectly fitting the song's rhythm.

These aren't random details. Each one serves the story while leaving the room For listeners to fill in their own version of what happened.

Throughout "Single Wide" Terry returns again and again to the same, "I had a single wide" line. The repetition creates a hypnotic, almost obsessive quality that draws you into the narrator's headspace. Is he someone who's told the story so many times that certain phrases have become automatic? Has he spent too much time at the Husky causing his mind to circle back to the same thoughts? Or is this simply how traumatic memories work the way certain moments replay in our heads, whether we want them to or not?

Terry's choice to anchor the song with this repeated line serves multiple purposes. It reinforces the central image that sparked the entire story, but it also reveals character. This is someone stuck in a loop, unable to move past what he's lost.

The repetition also creates a circular structure that mirrors how people actually process loss. We don't experience grief in a straight line. We circle back, revisit the same details, try to make sense of what happened by telling the story over and over. 

"Single Wide" sits on a foundation of musical restraint. Guitar, bass, drums, and Terry's vocals. In an era where home recording technology makes it easy to layer track upon track, Terry made the deliberate choice to keep things simple. 

This wasn't about limitations or lack of resources.Terry had experimented with what he calls "fancy ass multi-tracking" on other songs, but "Single Wide" didn't need any of that. The story was strong enough to carry itself without embellishment, and he wanted the music to match that directness.

Terry's raspy, semi hushed vocal delivery, perfectly compliments this approach. He's not performing the story, he's telling it. That conversational intimacy would be lost if the production got too busy or polished.

The sparse arrangement also serves the narrative in another crucial way. When you're telling a story about someone who's lost everything, musical excess could feel wrong. The stripped down production of "Single Wide" mirrors the narrator's circumstances, everything reduced to its essential elements.

My favorite part of the song comes as the bridge wraps up and we head into what serves as the final verse. Lyrically the story expands, delivering significant background and an emotional gut punch in just a few short lines: " The widow came by with her husband's boots and coat... and she stood by my side. She remembers this is how my mother died."

The arrangement that's been driving the song forward pulls back to almost nothing, creating space for this emotionally charged memory. We hear about a moment of genuine kindness, a neighbor offering warmth and comfort to someone who's lost everything.

Terry allows just enough vulnerability to creep into his voice without overdoing it. A slight break that makes the moment feel genuine. When I told him about the impact this part of the song had on me, Terry admitted that he'd even impressed himself.

The minimal arrangement forces you to listen closely to every word. There's nowhere for the emotion to hide. No musical flourishes, to distract from the raw humanity of what's being shared. That production choice transforms what could have been just another verse into something that feels like a confession, a moment of vulnerability that the narrator rarely allows himself.

Terry doesn't claim to have a signature style. As he puts it, his generation was exposed to such a variety of music that his influences are "both eclectic and subliminal." "Single Wide" is a good example, a song that borrows from southern rock but ends up sounding distinctly Canadian.

What Terry is consistent about is his preference for straightforward music, making: guitar, bass, drums, vocals. The basics that he associates with "real garage band" playing rather than elaborate studio production.

When I asked Terry what artist he'd want to cover "Single Wide," his answer was simple. " Anyone, anywhere, anytime, covering one of my songs is the highest possible tribute." It's the response of someone who writes, because he enjoys the process, Not because he's chasing recognition.

That approach comes through in the song itself. "Single Wide" doesn't try to impress with complex arrangements or studio tricks. It's just an infectious riff that propels forward a well-crafted slice of life story about someone whose life took a hard turn. While making heads bob, all along the way. 

Songs Never Heard is written and produced by me, Robert Howell. It's a tribute to all the seldom heard talent I've experienced over the years. If you're interested in having one of your songs featured, drop me a note at rrobhowell@gmail.com. 

Until next time, keep writing.