Voted Amarillo's Best Female Vocalist of 2019 and 2020, Lindsey Lane is more than an award-winning songbird. With a dazzling flair for connecting with her audience, she captivates the hearts of the apathetic and elevates the joys of even the most enthusiastic. Buried beneath the shell of this vivacious twenty-something are the enthralling stories she expresses through song. Each lyric encompasses a sparkle of young love, hard goodbyes, or reveling female independence. Together with her band, Lindsey achieves a sound that critics say, “not only captivates today’s mainstream listeners but also causes an older generation to appreciate her true country roots”. With tones that mimic Tammy Wynette, Martina McBride, and Linda Ronstadt, her musical influences are all but palpable at her live shows.


This emerging country music star began testing the waters of the recording industry with her first EP, Gypsy Leavin’, released in January 2017. During which time she also worked full time as a third grade math teacher. In May of 2019, after five years of teaching and working nights and weekends to build a music career, Lindsey took a leap of faith to embark on a full-time journey in music. Since, Lindsey recorded her first full-length album, Nomadic Lover, set to release in 2021 and released two charting singles: “Blame It on the Whiskey” and “Run” to Texas radio. Together with her band, she opened for nineties country superstar Travis Tritt, the classic rock band, Great White, and some of Texas Country’s greatest; such as, Kevin Fowler, Bri Bagwell, Kolby Cooper, Kimberly Dunn, and shared the stage with Jack Ingram, Cody Jinks, Cody Johnson, Cooder Graw, and many others.


Now, Lindsey launches to radio with her new single, “Timber”. Delivering a somber power ballad written to reflect a time of self-desolation. Inspired by the haunting echo of grief, she puts her heart on the line to capture the mystery of moving on. Each line cuts like an axe bringing the listener on a journey through the mystic dark forest of heartbreak; posing the question, “if a heart breaks and no one is around, does it even make a sound?”