Shiloh Lindsey was born in Wetaskiwin, Alberta—a town named after the Cree word for “the hills where peace was made.” Her name, sparked by a spaghetti western and carrying its own meaning of peace, has always lived in tension with the wild edges of the world she came from.

The youngest of six, she was raised on a ranch in South Central Alberta before her family moved west to the Robson Valley of British Columbia—where the Caribou Mountains rise on one side, the Rockies shoulder in from the other, and the Fraser River winds through the middle like a silver thread. It’s a place where winters hold tight, and sound carries differently. Her now-departed cowboy father still rides through her songs, woven into lyrics like dust into old denim.

Shiloh made her early recordings—*For My Smoke* and *Western Violence & Brief Sensuality*—while carving out a place in Vancouver’s underground alt-country scene. Her voice is weathered and clear, her lyrics steeped in cinematic detail and dry, hard-won truths. She’s since brought those songs across the country, including a set at Toronto’s iconic Dakota Tavern as part of the NXNE festival—one of many rooms where her storytelling cut through the noise.

A few years later, she moved to Halifax, Nova Scotia. There—on the cross streets of Bloomfield and Isleville—she wrote the songs that would become her next release. When the relationship that had taken her east came undone, she returned to Vancouver and recorded the album, carrying the ache of the Maritimes back with her.

She’s traveled by train across Canada, played to strangers in smoky rooms and distant harbours, and walked through the complex heart of Fort McMurray—where industry hums like a second nervous system beneath the land. The weight of what we build, and what we lose, hums beneath her newer songs.

In 2024, a motorcycle accident nearly took her leg. Seven surgeries later—thanks to a cast of brilliant surgeons at Vancouver General Hospital—she kept it. But something else was taken. Something left behind on that roadside. What emerged is a deeper voice, something quieter but more unshakable. A shift. A shadow taking form.

The next songs come from that place.

Smoke on the horizon.

A veil lifting.