Laith is a Texas songbird. A songbird braves his own tune. From the suburban hurricane of Houston to the colossal San Juans of the American Southwest, Laith's migratory mind and rambling spirit were ignited by the atmosphere of local barrooms & sticky-floor dives where he played Friday & Saturday nights. He was 15 years old & learning songs from what he calls "The Great American Dive Bar Songbook." On Sunday, it was back to where he learned to play guitar at church. The result is a tension in his songwriting like the altar and the barstool. Laith isn't interested in interpreting his songs and doesn't want to tell you how to either. As an artist he relishes in continuous flux, writing on the fly and in between smoke breaks. "If you're looking for the same song over and over, you're not gonna get it from me."

Songbirds fly low for the blues. Laith knows that to fly low is to feel high, and to feel high is to get struck by lightning. And lightning is the heart of this record. Texas lightning. Life's lightning strikes that interrupt and change the course. "There's been a lot of death that has marked moments in my life and those are lightning strikes."

On Laith's debut record, Lightning, he carries us across state lines from LA to Arizona, Colorado to Espanola, Houston to New Orleans, Utah on to the Great Northwest, where he currently lays his head, dreaming of running these roads until the wheels don't touch the ground. And his writing does just that. It burns along the asphalt until there's none left. And that's when Laith takes us beyond, on phantom track lines through the abstract geography of his mind. He flows seamlessly between railway signs and lost trains of thought. Like a true American surrealist.