Look who's coming

Kyler England

Los Angeles is Kyler England's hometown nowadays, but she's not there all that often. She spends most of her time on the road in have-guitar-will-travel mode, while also finding time to issue a string of critically acclaimed self-released albums. In advance of a Friday appearance in Durham, she spoke with staff writer David Menconi.

Q: The record industry seems to be falling apart, with CD sales falling and radio playlists shrinking. Has it been frustrating trying to launch a career at a time like this?

A: Oh, yeah. I've loved these years of being independent, and I'll continue doing that if I need to. But it would be great to have a label to help with financing and promotion and marketing and all that, which would allow me more time to just be a musician.

The labels have been tightening down on everything. I did a demo deal the summer before last, which was not the best experience. It was kind of the major-label cliche: My ideas weren't listened to or valued. At the end, I was supposed to play for the president, and he just brushed me off after I'd waited for two hours in the lobby of his office.

It was frustrating and humiliating. But I guess it's good that that happened on a small scale, before I was tied into a five-record deal. I've not given up on labels entirely; I'm still interested in the right partnership. But I'm not holding my breath or waiting around for someone to find me.

Q: Your producer, Richard Oliver Furch, has quite the high profile as an engineer/mixer -- Macy Gray, Emmylou Harris, Whitney Houston. How did you meet up with him?

A: We met at Berklee [College of Music in Boston] in ear-training class, which had two parts. First, you'd listen to music and transcribe it. Then you'd do the opposite, look at a piece on paper and have to sing it. And it would be some weird jazz melody, never a simple pop tune. You'd have to look at it, be given a start note and then sing it in front of the whole class. Even worse was going to the board and transcribing a melody they would play. It was very high-pressure. I almost got an ulcer from that class.

Q: Your voice has a pure, high tone that seems ideally suited to country music. Do you ever think of going in that direction?

A: I could see myself on the pop side of country, which isn't nearly as twangy as it used to be. But I'm not ready to change paths and commit to that fulltime yet. In a way, it's something I've fought for years, ever since my mom told me when I was 10 years old, "You could make a million dollars singing country." People hear that in my voice.

To be honest, I've never listened to country music much. More like U2, Sarah McLachlan, that side of things. But I've noticed my North Carolina roots coming out more and more. It's always been a part of me even when I didn't know it was there.

Q: There's more of a big rock sound on your new album, "The Green Room Sessions," than on 2003's "A Flower Grows in Stone." Is that what you were going for?

A: That's the culmination of a lot of things coming together. My songwriting grew a lot the past several years, as did my voice. My other records have worked toward the same goal, so this is the refinement of that musical approach. Every record I make seems a little closer to what I'm going for, informed by what I've learned and listened to. This time we were going for that big pop-rock kinda sound.

Q: Do you do much writing on the road?

A: I get ideas, but I'm too pressed for time or worn out to flesh them out completely. Mainly because I'm out there by myself with my acoustic guitar, doing all the driving and navigating. If someone else was driving the bus, I could write.

I wrote "Laika" [from "A Flower Grows in Stone"] several years ago when I was touring in a big van with a friend. I sat on the wide seat in back with my guitar and wrote that. Finished it on I-40 and debuted it at the old 6 String Cafe. That's the only one I've ever written literally on the road.

The biggest thing is having the seed for the song, from which everything else springs from. I've forced myself to sit down and write, and without that first little seed to nourish it's usually a waste of time. For me, writing melodies and chords and good musical ideas comes way, way faster than lyrics worth keeping. If I can get a title or phrase for the chorus, everything else will spring from that. I'll write those down, hold onto them until I've got time.