Now that you've found me...
I’m from where I woke up this morning. I write the songs that come to mind and struggle with the ones that don’t. I find humor in misconceptions and solace in laughter, love in the street and fire in the eyes of the marginalized. I prefer facts over alternate facts. I’m here to shoot you straight, although sometimes I fire from the hip. 


I was born a Cajun in Lake Charles, Louisiana at the end of the 1980s. When I was a boy, I was naturalized by the Natural State, then became a man. I plan to die in Arkansas. I dream of the raven riding thermals along the cliffs of the Ouachita. I’m blessed by the monks of Subiaco and silent with it’s hills. Sometimes my boots are tugged by the Calcasieu mud. A cold beer goes further than you think; “don’t give me two unless you’ve got 12 more” my buddy always says. I used to ride the levee at night and shoot at the moon. I used to run with the boys in Logan County, that’s also in Arkansas. I used to hold my breath in church until I saw stars just to see if Jesus would come down off that cross and save me. I used to hide from my brother, now I just hide from the cops. The sound of a dog drinking water is my favorite sound. I’ve never written all the songs I wish I had, but I’ve got 3 albums you can find on me or the internet. I used to be in a band called Keyless Gentry…we did one show. I spent all my 20s sweating on guitars, I hope to do it all my 30s. I spend most of my time behind a wheel, getting to you. 

Growing up, my mom played all her country tapes in our ’89 econoline. I love those songs almost as much as our memories. 

It was my mother 
Who first took me to the country 
I’m indebted to her 
Not only in Love 
But also in Time 

Say no to fascism


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Squirrel in the Garden (2019)

What is country music anyways?

Country-politan? No-Bro-Bullshit Country, as Dylan Earl puts it? Genre boundaries are there to be broken like borders are meant to be crossed, and this record is going to prove that to you good and hard. That pedal steel you hear? It's not a quotation of some record that your dad owned.

No, that's real. That's the USA. It's the earnest emanation of beer-soaked floors from coast-to-coast. It's the sound coming from the antique jukebox in the corner and the playlist in a million vehicles. It's rural, urban, showy, restrained. That gut-busting, honest, almost cheesy voice? It comes from the quiet place between our favorite stoner-metal records and our third beer in places like Charlotte, Raleigh, Birmingham, Seattle, San Antone, Denver, Santa Fe, LA, all over the great state of Arkansas and everywhere in between.

There's a new sheriff in town, and it's Dylan Earl's gorgeous baritone. Should I mention the hard-touring, up for anything road-dogs you are about to hear? Because they've seen ore highway than your average trucker, and make Buzzfeed's list of »100 American Dive Bars You're Afraid To Go To« look like a 4-month tour announcement.

Anyway, Jesus only knows what »Country Music« is --I'll leave it to the critics and the pundits, but I know what a real American sound is. I've seen it thinking and driving, and roasting bones and kicking rocks and on a hundred stages. Lo, and behold, and boy-howdy: it's locked in this record. Enjoy it, friends.

- Will Carlisle, folksinger

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