"You only get one life. You can either choose to follow your passion, or you will regret all of the chances you didn’t take." - Krista
Thank you for stopping by! My name is Krista Hoose (pronounced Hose), and music is my passion, whether it is performing, writing, learning, teaching, or listening. I have been playing guitar and singing for audiences since age 6, back when I wanted to be Wynonna Judd when I grew up. Some of my biggest influences as a musician and a writer are the Judds, Jason Mraz, Rush, Led Zeppelin, Carole King, Lori McKenna, and Brandy Clark. After college and then getting that 7-year itch in my career, I have returned to playing across the state of Indiana as a solo act, in duos, and in full bands, playing both rhythm and lead guitar, bass, and occasionally filling in on drum set. My roots are in country music, but I am all for a well-written song! Check out some of my favorite covers and original songs below, at www.facebook.com/kristahoosemusic, or on my YouTube channel.
For booking, cowriting, or teaching info, please reach out below, on Facebook, or email email@example.com! Thank you!
My setlist is constantly changing! From the popular standards to deep tracks to requests on-the-spot, I play a little bit of everything, from Merle and Miranda to CCR and Fleetwood Mac, Alanis Morissette and The Weeknd, along with a few songs of my own. If you would like a copy of my song list, please send a booking inquiry below or a private message via the link at www.facebook.com/kristahoosemusic.
Grandpa's Filling Station
I wish time stood still like it did back then,
when people waited their turn,
lined up at Grandpa’s filling station
in trucks with bench seats and ginormous steering wheels
for a gallon of gas that was only around twenty cents,
at the post office to mail a letter
written in cursive with a fountain pen,
or to place a call on a telephone,
back when the operator was your second best friend,
and you could sometimes overhear your neighbor
in mid-conversation with her sister Clara again.
I wish there were fewer distractions,
no cell phones and tablets
for immediate satisfaction,
and the book in your hands
was purchased in a five-and-dime transaction.
Honestly, don't we have better things to do
than to figure out another newfangled contraption?
Remember back then,
when the number one rule
was to treat others with compassion,
when prayer in public schools
was not such a far-out abstraction,
when kids were taught right from wrong,
facing actual punishment for an infraction?
I wish kids played outside,
on bikes and roller-skates,
losing track of time,
getting dirt on their hands and knees,
scattering at the sound of the dinner bell chime.
back then, neighbors became family,
tightly-knit, with no one left behind.
There were fish to catch,
lofty trees to climb,
and front porches with rocking chairs
perfect for Sunday afternoons to unwind.
back then was a different time,
one that I will always keep nestled
somewhere in the depths of my mind
as a constant reminder
to always be honest, patient, and kind.
Because back then,
from the stories I’ve been told,
that’s exactly what you would find.
As Seen From The Lighthouse
In the middle of the ocean,
no one knows there’s a storm.
You go for days sitting on the boat
rocking anxiously back and forth.
Then one day,
out of nowhere,
a glitter of sunlight peeks through the clouds.
The thunderous roar of the waves crashing
becomes but a whispering splash.
The dark clouds slowly disappear,
and there is a mysterious calm all around.
You think to yourself,
“This life at sea isn’t so bad.”
And then you realize,
it’s through the chaos of the storm
that you learn how to survive.
Without the deafening thunder,
without the pounding rain,
without the bobbing and weaving
of the sacred vessel that you command,
you are merely floating
above all the fishes
in the deep blue sea.
The first sliver of light as the sun rises on the horizon;
the prayer you whisper under your breath
when you feel lost or frightened;
the lively chatter of robins and cardinals
on an early spring morning;
the soothing sound of a Stardust recording;
taking it one day at a time,
scaling up that mountain
only when you’re ready to climb;
hoping that this too shall pass,
clinging to hope,
because hope is all
that we have.