When Kirkland Leach was diagnosed with autism, doctors told
his mother, Danielle Spencer, that her son would never be able to
speak, let alone function on his own. Pop singer, it seemed, wasn’t in
the cards.
As a baby, Leach cried and screamed incessantly. His parents tried
everything. When Leach was two, his father put a keyboard down and
something clicked: The boy found peace.
After Leach’s musical discovery there was little else he wanted to
do. He would play for hours, sometimes refusing to stop even to eat.
And while his mother noticed her son beginning to emerge from the
casings of his afflictions, the behavioral problems persisted. Leach
was kicked out of five schools by first grade. Certain words sent him
into violent rages.
While Leach continued bouncing around programs and diagnoses (his
condition is now thought to be closer to Asperger’s), his mother worked
tirelessly, trying everything from audio therapy (he hated it) to going
vegetarian (he enjoys it). All the while, Leach found solace in music,
and began to record himself singing and playing keyboards. He says he
has recorded over 1,000 songs, a figure that his mother backs up.
At Children’s Club, a non-profit for autistic kids, Leach’s mother
noticed Shane de Leon, a caregiver. She asked de Leon to work with
Leach outside the club, though she couldn’t have known just how
perfectly the two were matched. De Leon is a longtime fixture on the
Portland indie music scene. He plays with Miss Massive Snowflake and
runs Northpole Records (home to Rollerball and Larry Yes). When he
first met Leach—who knew nothing about de Leon or his
interests—the seven-year-old gave him a tape, complete with
hand-drawn cover. It blew de Leon away.
The relationship has become almost familial; they work on his
behavior, but they also work on songs under the moniker Road Race. De
Leon is preparing to release Leach’s second album, The Adventures of
Rocketboy and Egypt. It’s sweet and simple pop music, populated
mostly by a cast of heroes and villains in an alternate universe
concocted by Leach. But there are, at times, moments of bittersweet
melancholy, a look into the boy’s scratched psyche.
Now nine, Leach has made incredible progress. He’s coming into his
own, both as a functioning person and an artist. Without music,
however, there’s no telling where he’d be.