Roman Candle is delighted to welcome Dylan Earl to St Mary's, Chester, on Friday 4th April. Special guest Gravedancer.

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Tickets are £14 advance from Grey N Pink Records or See Tickets.

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DYLAN EARL

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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.

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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.

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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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-DEARL

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GRAVEDANCER

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Hillbilly, NOT redneck! If you can't tell the distinction, I prefer moonshine and skinny dipping over Coors Light and Nascar. Banjo's and fiddles over Kid Rock. Yard full of feral dogs over yard full of rusted motors.

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Hailing from the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas, I'm traveling the world to lyrically dump out my purse in public. Sometimes on my lonesome, sometimes with the backing band of some friends who are far more talented than me.

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Gravedancer is what the music is called, but ya'll can call me Baker. The songs I write are generally sad in their nature, but don't expect anything resembling a serious conversation out of me in person. C'est en sirop, couillon!​