Dylan LeBlanc

Dylan LeBlanc is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who often finds himself flirting with the edge -- or "dancing on a razor," as he calls it -- as it is all he has ever known. A verdict vagabond since he was a little boy tossed between Texas, Louisiana and Alabama, LeBlanc thrives on the precipice, never staying in one place for too long. It is that nomadic spirit that drew him not only to a life as a touring musician, but also to the beast that titles his newest record: 'Coyote.'

LeBlanc says he has always related to the insatiable, scavenging nature of the wily coyote. Much like the animal, LeBlanc is a wanderer who knows when to trust his instincts, musically and otherwise. It is a spiritual kinship that runs deep, but he credits one particularly hair-raising face-to-face instance with solidifying his bond with the animal.

LeBlanc was in Austin, Texas, climbing the face of a 100-foot cliff, gambling with Mother Nature's good graces as he pulled himself up by tree branches. Once he reached the top, all that laid ahead of him was a lush treeline. There was a breath of stillness, then the sound of a thunderous rustling that drew closer and closer to him. In a blink, LeBlanc watched as a frenzied raccoon came speeding out of the treeline, trailed by an animal that stopped and stared at him with striking intensity: a coyote.

"We're looking at each other dead in the eyes...and I'm saying -- out loud -- 'If it's you or me, I am going to kick you off the side of this cliff. I'm not going down.' It was intense, this human-animal moment," LeBlanc recalls. "I've never forgotten that... he was just trying to survive and so was I."

'Coyote' is LeBlanc's first self-produced release, boasting a cherry-picked lineup of what he calls "killer session players," such as drummer Fred Eltringham (Ringo Starr, Sheryl Crow), pianist Jim "Moose" Brown (Bob Seger), and bass player Seth Kaufman (Lana Del Rey). Though 'Coyote' covers familiar ground for LeBlanc of living on the edge of danger and its many consequences, the record is both autobiographical and a concept album built around the character of Coyote, a man on the run.

The story of 'Coyote' progresses linearly, opening with the dizzyingly declarative, strings-heavy title track which details Coyote's arrival and quick departure as he crosses the border and gets involved with drug cartels. The trouble builds and dark waters rise until track six, "No Promises Broken," a soaring, against-all-odds love song that marks when Coyote meets a girl, and his luck begins to change for the better. The song tells of how love heals, and places emphasis on lovers remaining open while maintaining their own freedoms, as LeBlanc believes that true devotion does not equal possession. He says that though both Coyote and his love each faced adversity, the hand of destiny put them on the same path and bound them together before they ever met:

"'No Promises Broken' is an honest love song about two people who come from the same troubled past, and fate intertwines them together. It's about acknowledging that there will be hard times ahead, but vowing to stick it out without making promises to each other that they know they can't keep."

"Wicked Kind" delves into Coyote's addiction and warns of ever-present temptation looming on the horizon, and the restraint it takes for him to look away. The LP closes with "The Outside," the title of which LeBlanc says is meant to be literal, as Coyote is outside of prison walls at last. With boundless slide guitar and skittish keys, it paints a haunting, desert highway vignette of Coyote fighting off lingering ghosts that breed a hesitance so potent that Coyote has to adjust his perspective and remind himself that he is free -- the fight is over.

LeBlanc has seen shades of a life not unlike the character of Coyote. He, too, strayed from the straight and narrow and sparred with managing anger in his adolescence. Just as the brutal truth of "Hate" describes that the most gnarled parts of Coyote were molded by his harrowing experiences, it is something LeBlanc feels is universal, as hate does not discriminate.

"I went to school with people from all walks of life. We were different, but we thought, 'We're all poor,' so we're all in the same boat. We all grew up in chaos. It was the '90s in Louisiana on the border of Texas... that air was thick, man. Sink or swim type of mentality."

LeBlanc is the first to warmly acknowledge his rough edges and tendency to chest-up to conflict, both the result of the volatility and instability of his youth. Now, no longer a boy who always had to be on alert and ready to defend himself, LeBlanc recognizes that his roots do not define or limit the man he is today. The cover art of a coyote wounded by arrows reflects just that, symbolizing LeBlanc's resilience through what he has experienced:

"The coyote is still upright, even though he's full of arrows, even though he has been shot at and wounded many times. He still keeps going in defiance of everything that has been thrown at him. You can't get an arrow out completely. You can break one side of it off, but the arrow is still there... there's still a scar. It becomes a part of you... of your identity."

Considering the distinct wisdom and lifetimes in his voice, it is no surprise that LeBlanc has known hardships, but he is a shining example of what beauty comes from perseverance. LeBlanc's tenacity has paid off in spades, leading him to a record deal with ATO Records, releasing the critically acclaimed 'Renegade' in 2019, and now 'Coyote,' which LeBlanc says is "the record he has always wanted to make."

Now in his thirties with a fiancé and a daughter he adores, LeBlanc is the closest he has ever been to the man he has always strived to be. With endearing candor, he confesses he is still learning to be less hot-headed and more gentle; but he doesn't think about dying every day, like he used to. LeBlanc credits fatherhood for the perspective he has now on what matters, and his key concern is remaining devoted to those he loves most. Though far removed from a perilous life like Coyote's, LeBlanc admits he still feels as if he is dancing on a razor's edge all the same. The goodness he is surrounded by only gives him more to lose, with each glimmer carrying an asterisk of fear. One misstep and he worries that it all could vanish, but the lionhearted LeBlanc seems to forget he once unnerved even a wild coyote with his eyes alone.

~~~~~~~~~

Dylan LeBlanc knows second chances don't come around often.

But, neither do voices like his.

Overwhelmed by the speed at which his gift took him from Applebee's server to "the new Neil Young" in a matter of months, he walked away from an unlikely major label deal after releasing two critically acclaimed albums. He slipped into a blur of booze and self-doubt. Exhausted and damaged at just 23-years-old, Dylan came home to Muscle Shoals, Alabama to write a new life for himself.

In between the moments of clarity and a few familiar falls, he also wrote a new album, Cautionary Tale: a collection of shimmering, arresting songs with the same haunting vocals that caught the attention of Lucinda Williams and Bruce Springsteen, now with a sharpened edge honed by hastened maturity.

"This record is about me getting honest with myself," says Dylan. "I had to let the guilt about the past go and find a new truth within myself. This time, I felt like I really had something to say."

To help him say it, he sought out long-time friend Ben Tanner, the same guy who had secretly helped Dylan record his first songs after hours while working at fabled FAME Studios. (He also introduced a 16-year-old Dylan to Wilco, George Harrison, and Ryan Adams by way of an external hard drive). In between touring with Alabama Shakes, Ben was beginning to engineer records again at the label he started with another friend of Dylan's, Grammy Award-winning musician John Paul White, formerly of the Civil Wars. The two both produced and played on Cautionary Tale.

"They prevented me from burying my words," says Dylan. "Doubt can often be my first instinct, and I'll try to cover things up with more elements to hide my voice, but I made up my mind to trust them. I heard Merle Haggard say once that the singer is secondary to the song, and they both helped me build a strong foundation for the emotions I was feeling."

The stripped down aesthetic that John Paul and Ben have made their label's calling card sets Dylan's voice in a light bright enough to see the patina the last few years has left behind.
"I spent a lot of time writing about programming and conditioning and the idea of ego," says Dylan. "I don't want to rely on my circumstances or the past to say why I am the way I am anymore. A lot of my songs like 'Cautionary Tale' and 'Look How Far We've Come' are about trying to break out of a vicious cycle. I was wondering if I could find my solutions from within--if I could believe in something beyond the present."

If Dylan was wandering through a cemetery with his first album Paupers Field ("Songs are like headstones to me," he told The Guardian), Cautionary Tale is an abandoned desert town. He reflects on what once was, and if anything could be again. At times, he wonders if the signs of life he sees on the horizon are real or just a mirage. Phantasmic, warbling voices in the background rise to meet his own and fade into the ether; ghostly guitar riffs echo in the emptiness around him.

Finding the right arrangement and words was a more deliberate effort for Dylan this time. After feeling lost in the "mania" of recording his first two albums, he relied on Ben and John Paul to help him collect the pieces of his vision.

"I've definitely become more disciplined. I don't count on things like inspiration anymore," says Dylan. "I learned so much from putting songs together with John Paul. Anything he does, it's always going to be well-thought-out and well-placed. I'm naturally an improv guy, but now I see how that can be more limiting than planning your next move."

That new-found discipline shows. Never one to write out parts, Dylan methodically scored the stunning string sections with violinist Kimi Samson and cellist Caleb Elliot. To form the polished rhythm section he wanted to drive songs like "The Easy Way Out" and "Beyond the Veil," he paired drummer Jeremy Gibson with Alabama Shakes bassist Zac Cockrell ("I wanted it to feel like a Bill Withers record or Al Green--soulful, but tight.")

While Dylan will be the first to admit he wasn't ready to stand on the stages he played early in his career, there's no doubting he is now. With a recalibrated compass, he's back on the road opening sold-out shows for British singer-songwriter George Ezra, another artist praised for a wisened voice beyond his years.

Dylan will continue to support George through September 2015, including a show at Nashville's legendary Ryman Auditorium. Next, he'll embark on his solo tour with dates throughout the South, Midwest, and New England.
"After everything I've gone through, I still love putting records out and singing for people, no matter how big or small the crowd," says Dylan. "It's the only thing I want to do, and now I get to keep doing it as a more well-rounded person. I guess I'm blessed... or whatever the hell you want to call it."