LYLE HUTCHINS - Flatlander
- Wolf Georgia - MusicFarmer5
- Jun 13
- 3 min read
MUSIC FARMER 5 - Review by Wolf Georgia
From Chesterfield to the Cosmos: Lyle Hutchins Charts New Ground on Flatlander
There’s something beautifully disarming about Flatlander, the debut album from Lyle Hutchins — a 21-year-old songwriter whose roots in rural New Hampshire and artistic shaping in the soul-thick air of New Orleans have fused into a sound that feels both weightless and worn-in. It’s an album that greets you like an old friend who’s been through something, wearing a grin that says, “Yeah, life’s weird — let’s talk about it.”
Opening with the standout single “M.I.A.,” Hutchins immediately lays down his calling card: warm guitars with just enough crunch, a rhythm section that bubbles with under-the-surface complexity, and a vocal delivery that floats somewhere between Grizzly Bear’s indie grit and Brian Wilson’s mellow euphoria. The lyrics play like confessions scribbled on the back of a diner napkin — brutally honest but funny, sharp-edged yet self-aware. He tows the line between existential breakdown and self-deprecating punchline. The guitar solo midway is a standout moment — quick, jagged, and wildly melodic — like a late-night thought that somehow brings comfort instead of chaos.
The song’s visual companion — a music video co-created with longtime collaborator Isra “Peam” Chongtaveetham — adds another layer to the emotional world of Flatlander. The video’s scrappy, shot-in-five-hours style becomes a strength, evoking the same DIY spirit that underpins the entire album. The nighttime footage, last-minute improvisation, and glimpses of moonlit parking lots capture that lost feeling in your twenties: unsure of your place, unsure of yourself — but still showing up, camera rolling, heart open.
From there, the album unfolds like a collection of postcards sent from various corners of the emotional spectrum. “Shoulders” brings in a lightly tropical shimmer — shaker percussion, electronic drums, and gently cascading guitar arpeggios. Hutchins doesn’t overreach; he leans back into his arrangements, letting the melodies breathe and the textures bloom. It’s subtle, almost breezy — until it’s not. Like many moments on Flatlander, the song reveals its emotional depth gradually, like heat waves rising off a summer road.
Then comes “River Runs,” where banjo and slide guitar dance together in an oddly perfect partnership. It’s twangy, yes — but not dusty. It’s alive, odd, and confident. This is where you feel the influence of Hutchins’ time in Americana’s backyard. He knows the genre’s language, but he’s not speaking it the way it’s written.
“When I Was 13” is a late-album gem — ethereal and arresting. The opening is foggy with ambient mist before the acoustic guitar breaks through like sunlight. “I’m in the same place I was when I was 13,” he admits, and it hits like a universal truth for anyone trying to outpace the past. The instrumentation mirrors this mood — ghostly, then grounded — holding the tension between memory and momentum.
“Drive to Canada” is where Hutchins takes a left turn, stylistically. Auto-tuned vocals and synth textures flirt with indie pop and experimental folk in a way that feels both daring and deeply personal. It’s not the most accessible track, but it’s proof that Hutchins isn’t afraid to expand his sonic map — even if the destination is unclear.
And then there’s “Flatlander,” the closer and title track. It’s sweeping. It’s fiery. It starts with a roaring guitar tone that wouldn’t be out of place on a Switchfoot record, yet never loses the intimacy that defines Hutchins’ sound. A distant synth pad lingers behind the lyrics, like a memory that refuses to fade. The song doesn’t try to resolve everything. Instead, it stands tall in its emotional ambiguity — triumphant, maybe, but definitely earned.
