The Ballad of Lachlan Neville - Part II

II. The paradigm had shifted, no longer was I ruled by what I could receive but what I could offer and in this came a fulfilment I had yet to encounter.

As the glow of my phone began to cause an ache on the backside of my eyes, Melanie came in the room expecting me to be asleep. In a manic fit I launched into an animated rant in regards to what I had just heard. She received as she does and crawled into bed beside me.

“I’m really tired, sweetheart, you can show me in the morning,” she said as she pulled the covers and pressed her backside into me.

I turned off my volume and navigated my way into Lachlan’s DMs. With a collected and professional tone, I scaled back my purge of questions to a few simple compliments and interest in his origins. A wave of intuition and clarity both calmed my mind and activated my instinct. I had somehow had the fortune of finding myself connected to the early stages in the careers of Jessica and Colter and with that experience knew whatever powers aligned those relationships were bestowing chance on me, yet again.

The household woke with an eagerness to return home. We loaded the van under clear skies and embarked eastward on the Trans-Canada towards Saskatchewan. Routinely checking my Instagram messages, Lachlan replied with pleasantness and subtle flattery appreciating the contact from a “real writer” such as myself. Passing along my number I was soon to discover that Lachlan wasn’t from Alberta as my assumption was made but freshly graduated from a mere hour northeast of my family farm in Kennedy - better yet, no intentions of post secondary education.

I couldn’t get to him quick enough.

Days after discovering his music I was sitting in his parents’ livingroom just outside of Rocanville capturing field recordings on my iPhone as Lachlan played song after song. Lyrics melding his own experience with a fascination of the American southwest, rural colloquialisms, youthful innocence and a greater hope. He was singing as if he captured the spirit of not just his stated influences of Dylan, Springsteen and Waits but American Novelists such as Kerouac and Steinbeck. Interjecting his own intros with suggestions of books, thoughts on politics and backstories to song concepts - every other lyric to follow causing me to shake my head in admiration.

“Love as a contract and life was a plow”

and…

“The field needs a shave and the boys are gone now”

and…

“Coffee black in the mornin’, rosin and barley and Saint Anne’s Reel”

and…

“The sky was just canvas and chisels”

and…

“I’m building a farm for a family, they’ll build a contraption to blind the bright sun”

I didn’t write like this. I couldn’t write like this. That was the root of my excitement. Breaking the trend of having to tell young artists they aren’t ready for studio and to continue working on their craft, I left his farm expressing a dire interest to produce an album and a commitment to figuring out how to pay for it. I drove back to the city painting instrumentation into the demos and taking my liberties on structural arrangements. It felt like I had made decent records out of plywood my whole life and I was just offered a piece of mahogany.

my first time meeting Lachlan at his parents’ place in Rocanville

The following months had Lachlan trusting my guidance. We filmed live sessions with little jack films, we designed merchandise with Dan Syrnick, we wrote grants for studio time and we shared almost every stage I stepped on. As I spent six winter weeks in Nashville, I was representing my anticipation for his music more than any self-promotion I had ever done - talking up an album yet to even be recorded.

Returning home, I performed the illustrious Darke Hall in promotion of my upcoming release - Lachlan’s 20 minute opening set had an audience clamouring for more. In almost 25 years of moving my music forward in the world, I had defined myself with the philosophy that it isn’t who you know but who you ask - a vulnerability in requesting assistance. The paradigm had shifted, no longer was I ruled by what I could receive but what I could offer and in this came a fulfilment I had yet to encounter.

Committed to the album’s creation the universe picked up the slack.

Without knowing any details of our situation a message came in:

“I’d be happy to donate my engineering if you ever wanted to produce him…I think you could do some great stuff with him.”

once again in Lachlan’s living room, this time with little jack, listening to more songs

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Howdy Readers,

It funny how timing works. I’m more and more subscribing to the idea that we create it with our intention as humans. The other night we had 200 acres of wheat left to combine with a massive rain system about to settle in for a few days and as the wind blew it towards us it was enough to keep the crop from getting tough as our combines devoured a little over a quarter section into the night. We parked the combines and the storm came in. What a blessing, I’ll never complain about the rain.

So I’m bunked up in my bedroom at the farm taking advantage of the weather by working on bookings, catching up on label stuff and dammit, I even started a new tune last night called “Walter Allen Emile Jefferson the Three”. It’s got me pumped, a whole new direction in sound…yet again.

Young Lachlan is hitting the road this week for a collection of shows out west. If you are receiving this Substack and are in his vicinity please make the effort to get out and discover what I am so confidently boasting about him…I’d never lead you astray. I promise we are gonna be getting these new tunes out to y’all soon but for now he has a table stalked with t-shirts. If you have family or friends in the areas, do us a favour and send them out. Here are the dates:

Thursday, September 19 - Swift Current, SK - Raccolto (278 1st Ave NE) - 6PM

Friday, September 20 - Longview, AB - Twin Cities Saloon - 7PM

Saturday, September 21 (Afternoon) - Red Deer, AB - Honky Tonk Market, Bo’s Bar and Stage - 11:15AM

Sunday, September 22 - Calgary, AB - King Eddy Hotel w/ Carter Felker - 11:30AM

photo by little jack films