The Story Behind The Story: by Kyler England
Hey there. My name is Kyler England. Kyler like Tyler with a “K”, England like the country. Yes, that’s my real name and no, I’m not from England. I’m from North Carolina and have also lived in Boston, NYC and most recently LA, but lately I feel a bit like I’m from the rental cars I’ve put so many thousand miles on. Some people would call me a road warrior, some would probably call me crazy, but I think of myself as a modern troubadour. These days I spend about half the year traveling with my trusty acoustic, singing my songs for people all over the country. It’s been a long and winding road so far and I can’t wait to see what’s around the next bend. So how did this journey of mine begin?
I was born and raised in the countryside outside Raleigh, NC. Read: middle of nowhere, but just close enough to go to the city schools. If I screamed, no one would have heard me. It was lucky for me though, because I spent many an afternoon brushing my horse and singing “Borderline” and “Another One Bites the Dust” at the top of my little lungs.
My early days were heavily influenced by the peacefulness and natural beauty of the landscape. Pine trees, dogwoods, red clay, crickets and more 4 legged friends than you can count on both hands. There were cats and horses and dogs and rabbits and fish and the occasional guinea pig or rescued chicken. (i guess technically they count as 2 legged + 2 winged friends) I know it sounds like I grew up on a farm in Hickville, USA and you’d probably expect me to croon about pick-up trucks in a slow burning twang, but it wasn’t like that at all. My parents were pretty hippie-ish and the animals were all part of the family, not dinner in the making. A meal at my house was much more likely to involve some strange combination of homegrown sprouts, homemade yogurt and homemade bread. We also had an enormous compost pile, thanks to the horses, which housed a prolific vegetable garden. Back in those days I spent my free time riding my horse and playing in the creek with my twin sister and younger brother. It was quite an idyllic way to grow up.
In addition to sprouts, my young appetite was cultivated on a steady diet of Joni Mitchell, Mom’s hero, and The Beatles, Dad’s obsession, with some Stevie Wonder, Jethro Tull, and Crosby Stills and Nash thrown in for flavor. Though no one before me in my family ever made a dime making music, we all had great voices and ears and we sang all the time, in three part harmony no less. I remember us kids begging Dad to play “Yellow Submarine” on his well-worn acoustic guitar from college and singing our hearts out when he finally gave in. That same ragged Yamaha was the guitar I snuck out of the hall closet one night when I was 16 and was supposed to be doing homework. Something got into me that night. I was a straight-A-over-achieving kinda kid and rarely procrastinated, but somehow I got the idea I should teach myself guitar instead of doing Calculus. I had a chord book and an itch and by the end of the night I was playing “Blood and Fire” by the Indigo Girls. Within the week I had written a few songs about some devastating crush I had at the time. They were pretty rotten and I sincerely hope they never see the light of day, but I discovered a deep love for songwriting that even teenage angst couldn’t top.
I had already fallen head over heels in love with singing over a decade earlier and was quite the little ham. One family legend has it that I used to stand on the hearth, wooden spoon for a microphone, and serenade make believe audiences at age 3. I even sang the lead in school musicals in elementary school but during my adolescent years, like most every kid, I was shy and awkward and retreated inward. For years I did my singing in choir, on long horseback rides in the woods, and while practicing for piano lessons.
In college at North Carolina State University, I started performing my fledgling songs for fellow students at the monthly open mic, CoffeeShack. I was still uber-shy but forced myself to get over it and quickly gained confidence because of the encouraging response and growing number of fans. I played a few gigs off campus every semester but was also busy juggling studies towards two degrees: my self-designed course in World Music/Philosophy/Religion and of all things, Chemistry. After a summer internship in the field of chemistry where I felt like a total black sheep, I returned home feeling lost and to top things off got broken up with. Nothing like getting dumped to make you completely re-evaluate your life, and if you’re a songwriter, to write a whole new batch of broken hearted songs. That was the turning point where I admitted to myself what I had known all along, that I wanted to be a musician. And the fear of being miserable if I didn’t follow my heart gave me courage to spare.
Within days of graduation from NC State as a Valedictorian with 2 degrees, I know, I’m a geek, I packed my bags, traded in my riding boots for a pair of funky, black, stacked-heel lace-up boots, and moved to Boston to attend Berklee College of Music. There I finally found myself amongst kindred spirits, a whole different kind of nerd: music geeks. I loved my new home, the excitement of the city, the thriving music scene and the highly addictive coffee of Dunkin Donuts on every corner. My three semesters at Berklee were an inspiring whirlwind but I was antsy to get out of the classroom and on the road. I ended up joining the ranks of Berklee’s acclaimed drop-outs, but not before forging a musical friendship with producer-engineer-mixer-pianist-bassist- synth-programmer-guitarist-in-a-pinch-mad-scientist, Richard Oliver Furch of Berlin, Germany. (Macy Gray, Fountains of Wayne, Tyrese, www.tribaseproductions.com) “The Furch”, as he is known in some circles, went on to become my producer and partner in crime for 3 records released independently on my record label Gypsy Rock Records: A Flower Grows In Stone (2003), How Many Angels? EP (2001); If The World Would Just End (2000). And I’m thrilled to say we just recently put the finishing touches on 4 brand new songs, The Green Room Sessions EP (2006).
But back to the story. Just as I was finishing up at Berklee, I got the kind of call that no one wants to get, my mom had cancer. She passed away 6 months later despite medicine’s best efforts and nothing has been the same since. Sometimes I think I’m frozen as the girl who lost her mom and faith in the world at the same time. The only way I survived it was writing songs and singing the hurt out. I’m still working on that.
***interlude***
This is where I should probably tell a corny joke to lighten the mood so here goes:
How do you know if there’s a singer at the door?
Because he can’t find the key and doesn’t know when to come in.
That’s a little better. Except that I hate stereotypes that singers aren’t real musicians cause me, I can tell you if you’re playing a 13 on a subdominant chord in my song and I don’t want it there or if you anticipated that last 8th note before the bridge and I want it straight. And don’t get me started on wanker, cliché guitar licks…
***end interlude***
At that point I needed a change, a distraction, a fresh start, so I succumbed to the gravity of NYC and spent 3 years sleeping very little in the city that never sleeps. The unforgiving pace suited me just fine and only reinforced my work ethic and DIY spirit. Ironically, the very essence of NYC was what taught me to really go for it, which lead me to book longer and longer tours that took me away from the city. I fell in love with life on the road, with performing every night, with being an indie singer-songwriter. By now I’ve played in all but 12 states in tiny coffeehouses for 30 people and in huge amphitheaters opening for the likes of Sting and Annie Lennox and have had all kinds of crazy adventures in between. I recently released a collection of live and acoustic demos of my newer songs called Live Wire (2005) which captures the raw energy and emotion of my live shows. Or at least that’s what people tell me.
I’ve met so many amazing people who’ve helped me along the way by buying my CDs for all their friends, giving me a home-cooked meal and futon to crash on, or helping me with directions when I was lost. (both literally and figuratively) It’s been such a blast. The rest is a blur except that somewhere in the midst of my never-ending tour I packed my stuff up, bid my Brooklyn hood a tearful goodbye and moved my home base to Los Angeles. I love it here. The eternal sunshine, all the exotic looking succulent plants and palms, the tight-knit singer-songwriter scene and amazing musicians who have been so welcoming and friendly…oh yeah, and my two little kitties, Sly and Eve, who sleep inside my guitar case when I practice. (not quite sure what they’re trying to tell me…that I’m a snooze or that they wanna go on tour with me?) To be a dork and quote one of my own songs, “It’s a far cry from where I was born”, and who knows where I’ll end up next. All I know is, for now life is good. That’s my story…and I’m sticking to it.