About

First person. Underground soft rock — street drop-ins, not a concert career.

I am Torin Vale. Mid-forties. Concord human — lean under a worn brown duster, wavy brown hair at the jaw, short beard, dark burgundy scarf that has outlived three scarves and one bad manager. My axe is a custom twelve-string acoustic with a piezo older than most jump clearances. Fingerpicked. Chord work that leaves room for the story. Harmonica only when the verse earns the breath. Voice sits in a warm tenor pocket with clear diction — if you cannot hear the place name, I failed.

I do not do formal concerts under this name. No dome bills. No ticketed tours. I drop in on street corners, transit-ring layovers, and berth edges — play until the room or Customs gets curious, then leave. Underground narrative folk for Corridor Light. Migrant campfires. Gate queues. Credstick arithmetic with a heartbeat. Place names first. Bridges that land like verdicts.

Torin Loombridge is my Tavern Level / Renni nom de plume — fantasy bard house name, booked inn nights, mug comedy, and the big catalog where most of the money lives. Same songwriting pocket. Different dressing. We keep the song folders and Squawk handles separate so the leagues get inns and dragons and the soft hours get freighters and jump fees. We do not pretend you cannot know.

Come and Catch Me is bounty-paper defiance. Liability Baby is the write-off ballad auditors hate. Credstick Gospel is jump fee with grocery money. Meridian Rain is annex weather and smiles that move too fast. Small book on purpose. The inn book is longer.

KSPI 94.7 keeps the soft hours warm. Bring your own kettle. Leave the soft lie at customs. Do not ask me for a Vale tour poster — ask Loombridge for a league night.

Find the music on Corridor RadioKSPI 94.7. Between sets, notes land on the Road Letters. Squawk: @torin_vale.

Corridor Radio

KHES

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