In 2019 I worked on an album design for Dylan Earls Squirrel in the Garden. Dylan had a couple of references to work off of and the final product only took a few revisions, mostly text and label requirements edits. I was able to achieve what he had envisioned fairly quick, as he needed a quick turnaround. After I sent the first design proof, in his words Dylan responded with,  “Fuck this thing looks good.” We wrapped it up and I loved being a part of it, it was always one of my dreams to design an album. 

From the album:

What is Country Music anyways? Country-politan? No-Bro-Bullshit Country, as Dylan Earl puts it? Genre boundaries are there to be broken like borders are meant to be crossed, and this record is going to prove that to you good and hard. That pedal steel you hear? It’s not a quotation of some record your dad owned. No, that’s real. That’s the USA. It’s the earnest emanation of beer-soaked floors from coast-to-coast. It’s the sound coming from the antique jukebox in the corner and the playlist in a million vehicles. It’s rural, urban, showy, restrained. That gut-busting, honest, almost cheesy voice? It comes from the quiet place between our favorite stoner-metal records and our third beer in places like Charlotte, Raleigh, Birmingham, Seattle, San Antone, Denver, Santa Fe, LA, all over the great damn state of Arkansas and everywhere in between. So slap this record onto your turn-table and slap George Jones’ corpse, because there’s a new sheriff in town, and it’s Dylan Earl’s gorgeous baritone. Should I mention the hard-touring, up for anything road-dogs you’re about to hear? Because they’ve seen more highway than your average trucker, and make Buzzfeed’s list of “100 American Dive Bars You’re Afraid to Go To” look like a 4-month tour announcement. Anyways, Jesus only knows what “Country Music” is– I’ll leave that to the critics and pundits, but I know what a real American sound is. I’ve seen it thinking and driving and roasting bones and kicking rocks and on a hundred stages. Lo, and behold, and boy-howdy: it’s locked in the grooves of this record. Enjoy it, friends.

-Willi Carlisle, folksinger