The Illegitimate Sons

Just a hop, skip and a jump from Naptown, in the berg of Fort Wayne, something is bubbling just below the surface. That something may be a batch of meth, you never know. Regardless, I’m pleased to be telling ya’ll, not about the social ills of the rustbelt, but rather about The Illegitimate? Sons, a homey six-piece purveying just the sort of kosmic American music that Mr. Gram Parsons dreamed about back in the day. Fitting it is then, that on July 1st, the band will release a full-length called, you guessed it, American Music. That’s a long time to wait, so I recommend you enjoy lead single Bleed It Dry slowly. - My Old Kentucky Blog

Heathen Blux serves well as his kind-of commentary on the way the world is heading these days... But regardless of politics this is an incredibly solid folk album with hints of country on various tracks. If the first track can send shivers down my spine why don\'t you check it out? - DataPerversion

I want Lee Miles to leave Fort Wayne.

As soon as possible.

That’s not the same as wanting him to be “run out of town on a rail” as they used to say back in the days when they had too much time on their hands and too many rails, apparently.

I want Lee Miles to leave Fort Wayne so people outside Fort Wayne can find out how good he is.

Miles’ latest CD, “The Leaving,” comes out Saturday, and there will be a release party at 10 p.m. at the Brass Rail on Broadway to commemorate the occasion.

“The Leaving” chronicles a bad year in the life of a good man.

Most of the songs were written in a five-month flurry of cathartic creativity, although catharsis was a consequence, not an expectation, he says.

Miles says his troubles – related to health, romance and employment – are of the type experienced by many. But writing about them did make him feel “about 50 percent lighter,” he says.

“It’s the sort of thing that once I am done and out selling copies, I will be able walk away from that place in my life,” he says.

“The Leaving” is a collection of gruff and gorgeous stuff, as intimate as whispers and as sweeping as anthems.

It is one of those local CDs that need not be graded on a curve.

Miles grew up in Fort Wayne but began his musical career in South Bend, where he attended Bethel College. He saw some success there but had to return to Fort Wayne when he started experiencing some mysterious physical ailments.

Even today, the reasons for his chronic fatigue, frequent dehydration and hormonal imbalances are still being pursued by doctors.

A geneticist based in Indianapolis has made some amazing strides in the past six months, Miles says, and this has renewed his hope.

“I haven’t given up on this,” he says. “I haven’t completely lost faith. The body is capable of miraculous things.”

His health is the main reason Miles has not tried to test his musical aspirations in vaster metropolises, he says.

Miles doesn’t want fame, fortune or name recognition.

“I just want to make a living writing music,” he says. “To me, that’s success. I have very little appetite for the other stuff.”

In the meantime, Miles’ friend, the music journalist Greg Locke, has decided to depart briefly from making his documentary on the Fort Wayne music scene to craft an intimate cinematic portrait of Miles, complete with visits to Indianapolis-based medical specialists.

The private Miles has agreed to all of this, but he’s “honestly not very comfortable with it,” he says.

This mini-doc should premiere in February, but don’t expect to see Miles there.

“Yeah, I told (Locke) I don’t want be there,” Miles says. “He thinks I am going to come. We’ll see how it pans out. - The Journal Gazette

Okay, no more pussyfooting or playing it safe; with Heathen Blux, folk-footed songwriter Lee Miles has released an album better than any this reviewer has heard so far this year. Led by unforgettable songs like “The Fuss,” “Catch a Snare,” “Down at the Massacre,” “Peasant Blues” and “Deserters,” Miles has released a lean, levelheaded album of artistic depth and maturity that very few – including high-cred studs from New York, Fort Wayne, Portland or Bangladesh – seem able to touch right now. Miles has just simply done it. He’s made something that will follow him around the rest of his life. He’s written and recorded an accessible (read: downright lovable) folk album that rings through triumphantly with stark poetics, haunting accompaniments and rarely told truths that can only be described as “fighting words.”

In Miles’ own words, Blux is “about the people who have been forgotten. It’s about treason as the new patriotism; people are sold down the river every day by the folks closest to them.” Blux is about, well, people, society, hope, history and trust. Simple things made cloudy by the folks we trust with the power of our freedoms. It sounds a bit muddy and sad in summation, but, really, Blux is about redemption, revolution and respect – all good, important things. The album is, in frank terms, a modestly recorded and methodically organic singer/songwriter album about one man’s feelings on modern times. Simple. Clear. Hopeful. Unbelievably good.

The lyrics pop to the head throughout Blux, surely, but also prominent are Miles’ thrifty arrangements, meticulous vocals and unlikely phrasings. An artist with many great moments in his past, Miles sounds anew here, as if everything leading up to the release of Blux was preparation or even trial-and-error, especially his vocal style. That said, the song arrangements aren’t convoluted neu-folk art pieces; they’re creative and minimalist, made for interesting, affable listening. Miles takes the slack-y, organic, off-beat sound Will Oldham perfected about a decade or so ago and makes it his own, so much so that Oldham comparisons – save for a vocal inflection here and there – no longer function. The nods to the artist’s heroes – Neil Young and Bob Dylan – still linger in spirit, but Miles has really accomplished something with this record: he’s found a small corner of the songwriter genre that hasn’t yet been captured. For this, Blux almost feels like a debut, or at least Miles’ first proper artistic launch.

Let’s get back to the lyrics. No matter how obscured the themes sometimes are in Miles’ latest set of songs, Blux has an unavoidable political backbone that can’t be ignored – thankfully one that never defaults to the simplistic “go team, revolt!” methodology. Miles sings these fight songs with vocals so detailed and strong that you have to perk up and listen to his conviction as he drops punchline-worthy observations about a dumbed-down society where clever politicians run wild. We, as everyday citizens, know very little about what really goes on; Miles’ writing is always aware of that, landing home the gist – usually through a storyteller approach – without ever coming off as anything other than a sturdy voice for, as they say, “what should be and rarely is.” Most important to this brand of usually wrongly informed subject matter is the clergyman at the center of it all; Miles never once takes a break to indulge in his own character, opting to tell his stories, landing his points in vague, never sensational terms. Lines like “You’ll spill my blood before you take my home” and “The healers make sick, yet they cash in the checks from the drugs they sell” are about as obvious as they get on Blux, making for an album worth studying, living with and – no kidding – believing in.

“Blux is the first cohesive, concise album I’ve done. The sound is rough but very clear,” offered the artist about his recent recordings, all of which he wrote, played, recorded and produced by h - Whatzup Magazine

It’s easy to spot a seasoned artist. Lee Miles comes to mind when I think of someone that has been writing, recording and performing for most of his life. Hailing from Fort Wayne, Indiana, Lee Miles has developed his craft of folk songwriting that brings early `70s Neil Young to mind, or more recently a southern The Tallest Man on Earth.

I first saw Lee Miles perform thirteen years ago, when he was barely old enough to vote. His professionality shone through even then as he painted images with words. Recently I saw him perform at Rachel’s Cafe in Bloomington, Indiana, and Miles has matured in his songwriting, like fine wine improving with age.

Lee Miles not only performs under his solo name, he has a band called The Illegitimate Sons. He’s also actively involved in a collective called Sixty Years War. His solo recordings envelope a minimalist folk songwriting style, with his harmonica and a banjo often accompanying his acoustic guitar.

His latest EP is called Open Your Grievous Heart, recorded in his Fort Wayne home. This is his fifth solo album since 2003, not counting the numerous of bands he has accompanied or recorded with. Record labels and promoters that favor folk artists would be remiss for not pursuing Lee Miles.

The Sixty Years War collective has involved thirteen artists and bands, including Longsleeves, Pezzettino, Jon Keller, Chris Darby, and Wooden Satellites. Together, the collective supports each other while touring, recording and helping each other further their careers. Not coincidentally, Lee Miles finds himself at the center of the collective. (The Sixty Years War name is in reference to the extensive wars fought against Native Americans, which is a fitting name since it was during the sixty years war that Mad Anthony Wayne constructed Fort Wayne while invading Shawnee Indians in Ohio and Indiana.) - Puddlegum

Throw the words Indiana and Americana into the same sentence, and 999 times outta 1000, whoever you’re lipjackin’ is gonna blurt out some variation of John Cougar Mellencamp. The other guy will probably say Henry Lee Summer. That guy should be commended, but not taken too seriously.

Fort Wayne’s Lee Miles is hell-bent on proving that, even if Jack and Diane are the blessed couple of Indiana roots music, the story need not end there for The Hoosier state. Through the course of a dozen thoughtful and tuneful numbers, Miles’ newest record, The Leaving, makes it abundantly clear that this is a young man with his own voice and plenty to say. More impressively, he avoids the temptation of trying to be too clever, a trap that has snared more young folkies than is fit for mention.

Sure, at times he may sound uncannily like the patron saint of Indiana folk (crossed with a little Dylan), but Miles is sharp enough to know when to leave influences on the shelf and strike out into the unknown. No word of any impending live performances, but I suspect that’ll change in due time. Until then, The Leaving is just waiting for you and your ready money over at TheIllegitimateSons.com. - My Old Kentucky Blog