Introducing: Lila Tristram

When London singer-songwriter Lila Tristram first sat down to write what would become her debut album America, she thought it would be a straightforward story of love and loss. Instead, it became something much larger: a record that not only reshaped her artistic identity but also redefined her life. Moving from East London’s late-night writing sessions to Wiltshire’s blossoming creative community, America captures both the boldness of reinvention and the intimacy of connection.

Over two years of collaboration at The Barn with producer Gus White and bandmates Ailsa Tully, Jack Handyside, Tim Gardner, and Heledd Owen, Tristram discovered new dimensions of her sound and herself. Here, she reflects on the album’s journey, from the heartbreak of the “cowboy” to the joy of community, and on what America really represents.

You describe “Closer” as the song that pushed you to expand beyond the “folky girl with the long hair and acoustic guitar” persona—can you talk about how that moment shifted your sense of identity as an artist?

Actually I think I did experience a little bit of friction around that at first. I was living in London and working at The Green Note (folk & country venue) at that time. My world, my community, was very much rooted in the acoustic / folk scene, so I felt like I was branching out into unknown territory.

But it was also very exciting, like I was entertaining a much bolder side of myself, and kind of stepping into a new form. A person who was bigger, more curious and more hungry to experiment and play.

Collaboration is central to this record, especially the trust and vulnerability you built with your bandmates and with Gus at The Barn. What did working with others unlock in your music that solitude couldn’t?

Oh, honestly I am so lucky to have had the opportunity to work with Gus & such a talented band [Gus White, Ailsa Tully, Jack Handyside, Tim Gardner and Heledd Owen]. Wow. I find myself thinking that a lot. Each person in that room contributed so much, put so much of themselves into this record, playing as though they were all as personally invested in my music as I was.

You know, I recently went to see a contemporary ballet. It was a cast of just two dancers. Both of them danced independently at first, and then for the third and final act they danced together. And it completely undid me. It reminded me that while we can do pretty impressive things by ourselves, it’s when we come together that human magic can happen.

So what was unlocked in my music – an expansion of soundworld, depth, humour, connection, groove, elevation. The unlocking of musical doors which only those individuals had the keys to.

The story of America is bound up not just with music, but with your personal journey—from moonlit writing sessions in London, to Wiltshire’s creative community, to the heartbreak of the “cowboy.” How did these different worlds feed into the emotional landscape of the album?

London, those nights staying up in my room writing, offered me a space for introspect. Amongst the hectic activity of that city, I would come home, unwind, process my inner world through just being with myself and my guitar in the quiet hours after dark.

The journey I had with the cowboy offered me a lot of depth of emotion which I think is reflected in these recordings. But for clarity, it’s not an album about heartbreak. It’s an album about human connection; and everything that goes along with that.

Wiltshire & the creative community here offered me a chance to share the work. The studio here, Gus and all of the other local artists provided a system of such loving and supportive energy, I never could have asked for a better place for my solitary art to be nurtured.

You write that at first you thought this would be a record about love and loss, but that it became “so much more.” What does America ultimately represent to you now, looking back?

I guess the word America to me is symbolic of a sense of hope and illusion. Wrapped together with the American dream, this sense of the endless possibilities of life, of capability, luck and magic. However there’s a poignant irony about it, especially in today’s political climate. And I guess the album is about exactly that; it’s the holding of these two spaces. The hopeful, unbounded joy and desire of dreams, meeting reality which is often harsh and difficult to comprehend.

But now that I’m able to sit and reflect on it, the album also represents one other thing. As I mentioned before, America is really about human connection. And what’s so beautiful to me about these songs, is that they helped me to connect to this new community. I really see it like the songs themselves have a life and agenda of their own, and the journey they lead me on to get them recorded took me out of my blinkered world in London and moved me to Wiltshire, into a whole new chapter of my life.

Daily life in Wiltshire—meals with housemates, folk nights, dog walks—seems to embody a new kind of creative fulfilment for you. Do you see this environment as the foundation for your future work, or do you imagine another transformation waiting just around the corner?

For now I feel very settled here. But I think it’s part of my constitution to forever be anticipating the next change. I often think that I have things fairly sorted out, only to discover that a huge life change is just around the corner. So while I have no plans to move, I’ve got used to being prepared for the next chapter to present itself. Whatever that might look like.