Spencer Lee

If you ask Spencer Lee how he’s doing, he’ll light up a cigarette, look right through you, and tell you he’s getting by. If you stare at him long enough, you start to feel like it’s not a 22 year old rock star on the rise that you’re talking to, but some old crow, a lone wolf that’s been out on his own for years. And you won’t be totally wrong.

Maybe you want to know what kind of a man Spencer Lee is. He can tell you stories about growing up in a football town where if you didn’t play sports you felt like the exile on Main Street. About liking the shit that people didn’t, and wearing the shit that people didn’t, and saying the shit that people didn’t, and getting in trouble all of the time. He’ll be as sure as the night is dark when he says that he never cared about that life; he always knew he would be a singer, an entertainer. A heart-pumping, soul-throbbing, blue eyed rock star.

How did Spencer Lee start singing? You’d have to trace those roots back to Fort Scott, Kansas, where only dirt roads run through the wild plains and cows live in the backyard. Where Spencer balanced on clothes baskets at age three to put on shows for his grandparents. Where he drove crowds of teenaged girls at summer camp absolutely ape shit. Where he was just about to pack up and drive home from camp when a record executive from Los Angeles ran to his car and asked him, “What are you doing here? Why are you still in Kansas?” Where, soon enough, he got in his car for good and drove all the way to Hollywood.

If you want to know what Spencer Lee sounds like, he’ll do his best to tell you. He’ll grin about ruining Temptations records by playing them over and over, studying Percy Sledge, teaching himself Jimi Hendrix guitar licks, worshipping Otis Redding. “When I was in high school,” he’ll say, just casually enough, “I had a couple girlfriends. And one of them introduced me to R&B.” But then he’ll shake his head, and he’ll say, “It’s all of that, but it’s different. Can I play you something?”

And if you want to know what Spencer Lee is doing now, right now, you better brace yourself. Signed to The Brain as an artist and a songwriter, Spencer is getting ready to put out hot-blooded rock’n'roll like you’ve never heard before. He’s the rough-edged Stevie Wonder; the dark horse James Dean; the younger, leaner, sexier Johnny Cash. He’s all American cool: born and raised in the nation’s dusty heart, working at the two supermarkets in his town of 8,000, landing in high school suspension every day. His guitar is as dirty and raw as his boots are muddy from a day out on the farm. Spencer Lee is funk, he’s rock, he’s soul—and he’s the catchiest, grittiest, most visceral voice in pop.

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