Dan Pallotta Honors the Complexity of Fatherhood in Stirring Folk Single “Working Man’s Son”

New England folk songwriter Dan Pallotta has a new single out entitled, “Working Man’s Son,” a powerful, upbeat and introspective folk track that captures the emotional tension of gratitude and guilt in a son’s relationship with his father.

The first thing you notice in “Working Man’s Son” is the way Pallotta’s voice sits comfortably at the front of the mix — direct, warm, and unflinching. It carries the kind of raw, lived-in sincerity that doesn’t ask for permission. The lyrics unfold like a letter that’s been waiting years to be written, with each phrase carefully measured, each line a piece of a larger reckoning.

The acoustic instrumentation brings a brightness to the song that plays beautifully against its emotional weight. There’s an urgency in the tempo, as if the track is propelling itself forward on memory alone. Where one might expect a quiet lament, Pallotta instead offers momentum — guitar chords driving like footsteps down a familiar road, accompanied by percussion that pulses with a quiet determination.

Speaking of the song’s title, Pallotta states, “It’s lenticular. It means at once intense pride on one hand, and a heavy burden and sorrow on the other.” That double meaning threads itself through the entire arrangement. Nothing is singular here — joy is laced with sadness, honor tinged with regret. The song holds both truths, refusing to flatten the story into something easier to digest.

Originally imagined as a piano ballad, the track found its identity only after a shift in tone and tempo. “We tried that ten different ways and it was dragging. Once I decided to pick up the tempo and raise the key to about the top of my voice, the existing arrangement came together,” he explains. That choice infuses the song with a subtle defiance — a refusal to wallow, even in mourning.

The production, while full, never overwhelms. Multi-instrumentalist Peter Davis weaves in djembe, cajon, shruti box, electric guitar, and bass — each element adding its own character to the story without ever pulling focus. The arrangement feels handbuilt, like a well-worn piece of furniture passed down through generations. Everything has a purpose; nothing feels extra.

There’s a physicality to the sound — you can feel the strum of the strings, the gentle thud of percussion, the soft hum of the shruti box underscoring the verses like breath. That tactile quality draws you in, grounding the song’s big themes in something real and human.

Pallotta reflects on the complex feelings that come with being the son of a working-class father. “It’s lenticular,” he repeats, and the truth of that sentiment permeates every corner of the song. There’s a deep sense of respect for the labor his father endured, but also an honest look at the emotional legacy it left behind.

“Working Man’s Son” doesn’t try to resolve anything. Instead, it embraces the in-between — the liminal space where sorrow lives alongside pride. The chorus swells not in triumph, but in recognition. It doesn’t aim to comfort so much as to witness.

This is not a song of closure, but of continuation. The work is still ongoing — emotional work, creative work, the work of understanding who we are and where we come from.

With its blend of classic folk sensibility and emotional nuance, “Working Man’s Son” becomes more than just a tribute — it’s a portrait of inheritance, both material and emotional. And in Pallotta’s voice, we hear not just the echo of his father’s life, but the ongoing shaping of his own.