A tribute to Phil Aaberg

My friend Phil Aaberg passed away this week.

Phil was more than my friend. He is a Montana icon. Phil was nominated for Grammy and Emmy awards.

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Phil grew up in Chester, Montana. When his talent outgrew what local teachers could offer, he took the train to Spokane for more lessons. That image has always stayed with me: a kid from the Hi-Line, chasing something bigger, carried forward by the land he came from. When Phil spoke, he would talk about his love for passenger trains, how important they are, how much they can give and connect.

In many ways, his story is woven into mine.

He talked about the landscape that formed us both: “On the prairie, sound carries a long way. The sense of vision is important, too” he said. “On a clear day, you can see the Rockies a hundred miles away. I try to communicate that sense of distance and loneliness.”

During my 2022 congressional campaign, Phil offered to play at my fundraising events. Hosts in Bozeman, Helena, and Missoula opened their homes for intimate concerts. I was moved each time. But when Penelope and Ben Pierce hosted an event where Phil played, the power of Phil’s music hit me hardest. My mother, who brought music to our family, sat next to me and we held hands while Phil played. The music washed over us. When Phil asked us for our request, anything we wanted, I asked him to play “Simple Gifts.” It was magical, a true gift to me and my mom. A recognition of the music that had sustained us through so many years.

My mother had introduced me to Phil Aaberg long before that night in Bozeman at the Pierce’s home. In the 1990s, I was living mostly out of a suitcase, competing in rowing events around the world. My mom mailed me a CD of High Plains. I wore it out. Phil had a way of translating Montana’s open spaces into sound. In those traveling years, his music brought me the landscape I missed so deeply.

His pieces move between the intimate, Little Brother, and the vast, High Plains. He celebrated the holidays with characteristic warmth.

Phil’s sense of humor came through in a brief email needling Evan Barrett, a mutual friend, about an email address update:

I cannot pay adequate tribute to Phil Aaberg. But I want to mark his passing, and to acknowledge something his life made visible: the ways we touch one another’s lives are so often unseen.

And I want to ask, for today, that we take Phil’s tag line to heart:

Listen. Listen. Listen.

Virginia Tranel and Phil Aaberg, October 2022

All together.