Momentum. Evolution. Expansion. Those are important traits for a critically-acclaimed group that recently celebrated its 15-year anniversary. "When you've been a band for as long as we have, there's a lot of moving on," says Thomas Johnson. "We just keep going, because that's how you keep things fresh. That's how you keep the spark." By matching the sharply-written songs of three distinct frontmen with a progressive mix of rock & roll, electrified folk, and cosmic American roots music, Futurebirds have built an audience that's as wide as the band's own sound. With Easy Company, Futurebirds' fifth studio album, that sound reaches a new peak.

Featuring four songs apiece from singer/songwriters Womack, Johnson, and Carter King, Easy Company feels like a celebration of the tight-knit bonds that have held Futurebirds aloft since 2008. Back then, the guys were college students at the University of Georgia, building a buzz around town with shows at fraternity houses and local bars. Years later, they've become headliners at bucket-list venues like The Ryman and The Fillmore, collaborating with fellow genre benders like My Morning Jacket's Carl Broemel along the way.For Futurebirds, the road goes on forever. Easy Company is the latest stop on a journey that's still unfolding, winding its own path through American rock & roll, giving Futurebirds and the grassroots community they've created — the Birdfam — a new place to land.

I had a band in college and we moved out west under the guise that we would continue the project in Los Angeles, I ended up in Long Beach and the others in their respective places.

My dad had this saying growing up "if you wanna hear God laugh, tell him your plans".

It was hard to keep the project afloat, one wanted to try his hand at film scoring, one was focusing on building a life for his family, and eventually the project fell through. I hold no animosity toward the situation, we were all in our early twenties and just trying to figure out our own paths. I still love and admire them. 

After it ended I had an identity crisis, sort of a what the hell am I doing in Long Beach, CA by way of Boston, MA and by way of Jacksonville, FL. Music was the only thing I wanted to be good at, the only thing that I desired. I refused to head home with my tail tucked between my legs and forever be cursed doing the yacht-rock-cover-bar-band circuit. 

I decided to go out on my own: write, record, produce, and distribute my own art. I was nerve racked and excited at the same time. The idea of doing it all myself was debilitating but being able to have complete creative liberty was a new challenge that I relished.

After four years of survival jobs: stagehand, deckhand, linecook, etc; and a failed relationship, I finally made the pilgrimage to Los Angeles. I always had this narrative in my head that Los Angeles was a mystical wasteland filled with fake and vapid people. I told myself this as a coping mechanism, I was scared. Scared of failure, rejection, and humiliation. 

When I let go of this notion the world opened for me like a flower. You still have to navigate and operate in the social/professional climb, but thats the case with any place or scene. I've realized that if you ask for help most of the time people are willing and wanting to help you. Life is still hard, I still work 3 jobs to survive, but I've never been more creatively satisfied and fulfilled in my life.

When I first started out doing music in Los Angeles I decided that I should choose a name for myself that was reflective of my artistry and background, eventually settling on the moniker Deloyd Elze. I've always liked when artists choose a persona they can operate in, it gives you parameters, and my government name was the most popular boys name of 96.  

Deloyd was my great grandfather.

This is his story.

He met my great grandmother on a bus going to North Carolina. He thought that she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen and and tried to sit next and talk to her. She wouldn't give him the time of day and when he asked her why she wouldn't talk to him her response was "I was raised up north and was taught that it is impolite for folks to talk without being properly introduced".

They ended up staying at the same hotel, if by chance or design is still unclear. From what my family told me he apparently payed the bellhop to ride up and down the elevator all day until she finally got on. The bellhop asked for her name and then told her "Virginia, this is Deloyd. Y'all two have now been properly introduced". 

They got married three days later and ended up having seven kids, one of which was my grandmother.

They moved down to Cairo, GA after they got married; where Deloyd grew up. My great grandmother was apparently the talk of the town because she wore pants and talked "unlady-like" which just threw him further in love with her. Times were tough and they were barely making ends meet when Deloyd's friend George approached him with a proposition of stilling moonshine in his attic at the farmhouse. 

They ran for about two years and made hand over fist. My grandma says that it was the best 'shine in the county but I have a feeling that every family says that about their own families accomplishments. The law caught wind of it and Deloyd took the fall. He served two years in jail.

When he got out he promised Virginia that he would stick to the straight and narrow and they started a fish market together. The trick was that at this point he had developed a reputation around town and people, competition and law enforcement alike, still knew of his prowess in the art of corn liquor.

He went into the shop one day and started noticing things were out of place and they next thing he knew the place was surrounded. My grandma told me that she could still hear him screaming "VIRGINIA COME QUICK THEY FRAMED ME".

The head Sheriff of the town was this big burley ginger-headed fella that everyone called "Red", odds are that no one actually knew his real name.

He pointed at these bottles that they found in the stock room hidden under tarps and said "We got ya red handed Deloyd, best come clean son". Deloyd proceeded to pick one of the bottles off the floor, pop the top, and take a swig. Looked at Red dead in the eyes and said "You red-headed som-of-a-b***h, drink this s**t and tell me I would make anything this bad".

When they booked and processed him a Federal agent walked in, told him that the government was trying to crack down on the illegal sale and distribution of alcohol, and gave him an impossible choice. He could either roll over on the folks that he knew were stilling in town or he could go to prison and never see his wife and kids for the rest of his life. 


He chose his family.

He rolled over on everyone except for George, his old business partner, and sold him the farmhouse. In those days it was unclear or not if they had witness protection but that courtesy was not extended to Deloyd or his family.

They knew that they had to get the hell out of dodge and decided to flee, in their eyes, the other side of the world: South Florida.

I guess back then 225 miles practically was.

They settled in the Ft. Myers area and is where most of my family still resides today. 

Deloyd was a complicated man. Most of the time people, and life, are. I don't think he was either a good or bad person, I just think he was existing in the best way he knew how. The reason why I chose his name is because of that reason, I want my art to represent the many facets of people. From the hopeless sorrows, deepest shames, righteous angers, and greatest joys. 

The cycle breaks and repeats itself, I am Deloyd Elze.