Video and Report ~ Andrew R. Tonry, photos by Jason E Kaplan, POD playlist below

“When you get here, just come on in to the garage — we’ll probably be rocking out,” says Shane de Leon, giving directions to his home. “And I mean rocking!”

On arrival, the garage door is wide open. Toward the back of the room, behind the two monolithic steel letterpresses and beneath a hand-painted mural, there is a drum set, keyboard, and a cluster of amps. Nine-and-a-half-year-old Kirkland Leach and de Leon, his bandmate, are between songs.

De Leon’s actual title is “respite caregiver.” Leach — or “Kirk” — has Asperger’s syndrome, an autism spectrum disorder.

Together the two are the band called Road Race. And although de Leon, a veteran of numerous groups, assists with drums and recording, the 9-year-old steers the ship insistently. The duo recently wrapped their second album, The Adventures of Rocketboy and Egypt, which de Leon released June 30 on his own independent label, North Pole Records. And while writing and playing is a passion Kirk and de Leon intimately share, it is equally a refuge, pacifier, and an escape from Kirk’s often devastating afflictions.

At age 4, Kirk was diagnosed with full-blown autism. Doctors told his mother, Danielle Spencer, that Kirk would never be able to speak, let alone function on his own. Certainly they didn’t imagine him as a singer.

When he was 2, Kirk’s crying and screaming was never-ending. One day, on a whim, Kirk’s father placed a keyboard in front of the boy and something profound happened.

“He would play three and four hours a day, not even wanting to stop and eat,” remembers Spencer. “It was one of the first things to really draw him out of himself.”

However, Kirk’s intense behavioral problems persisted. “It used to be fits, five or six times a day, that were huge,” Spencer remembers. “They were animal-like.” By the time he reached first grade Kirk had been kicked out of five schools.

Certain triggers sent him into a rage.

“You couldn’t even say the word ‘bye,’” says de Leon, looking at Kirk. “Can I say ‘bye’ around you right now?”

“Yes,” says Kirk, turning his head away.

De Leon continues, “If he was walking down the street and he heard someone say ‘bye’ ... he would attack that person — bite them, kick them.” Again de Leon calmly addresses Kirk. “Why did you hate that word?”

Reluctantly, Kirk responds: “I still hate it but I got control over hating it.”

The bond between de Leon is close and compelling. “Shane’s really part of our family now,” says Spencer.

Spencer first approached de Leon two years ago at Children’s Club, a nonprofit day-care center in Southeast Portland that serves many children with autism or special needs. After watching him, Spencer knew that de Leon would be a good match for Kirk.  “I could just tell because of who [de Leon] was,” she says. “Very strong and firm. Very kind.”

Spencer’s maternal intuition was spot on, as de Leon turned out to be a musician as well. When Kirk and de Leon first met, Kirk presented his would-be mentor with a homemade tape of his music.

“I bring the tape home and it’s these great keyboard lines and great lyrics,” de Leon remembers. “I’m like, ‘Are you serious? This kid is 7?’ I started working with him. His whole room is just keyboards and hundreds of cassettes that he’s recorded.”

Again Kirk pipes in: “More than hundreds! Thousands!” His mother agreed — her son had likely recorded over 1,000 tapes of his music.

As part of a grant-funded program from the state of Oregon, Kirk and de Leon spend 20 hours a week together, and a large part of that time the two are in the garage, playing music and recording.

Kirk steps to the keyboard and begins to play, throwing out new songs like a ball pitcher. He winds up an arrangement, wings it, and moves on to the next.

When the boy plays, one can see him enter a trance — the musician’s calm. It’s clear that this is where he is most at peace. When asked how he feels when playing, he responds, “It feels like I can do a lot of good things. And that all my good memories are good stuff that happened that I can turn into nice music.”

Kirk’s never received any formal music training.  While Kirk is no Mozart, he is a pop artist who can ably navigate scales and basic music theory and bang out catchy songs all day.

A quick count in de Leon’s iTunes reveals over 150 songs recorded by the duo. With de Leon often on drums, Kirk pounds out the keyboard lines then moves on to overdub vocals, which he does in a free-flowing stream-of-consciousness style.

“He’s kind of created this whole cosmology of people who populate his songs,” says de Leon. “He’s Rocketboy, I’m Egypt. We’re fighting this guy named Beater.”

Kirk has begun performing live at the prodding of de Leon and it’s going well. “All his teachers came to [a concert at Backspace],” says de Leon. “I think they saw him in a different light. They came up to me and were really excited that he has the opportunity to do stuff like this.”

Like his music — and perhaps in some part thanks to it — Kirk has been growing and maturing at an almost alarming rate. “I don’t believe it, to tell you the truth,” says Spencer. “I don’t even know what’s happened.” And though there is still a ways to go for both Kirk’s well-being and his music, the distance already traveled is compelling motivation for all involved.

“Sometimes I look at him and it’s like another person’s here,” adds Spencer. “I always knew he was in there.”

Road Race will play live to celebrate their CD release on July 10 at Backspace, 115 NW 5th Ave.  For more information about Road Race, go to northpolerecords.org/bands/roadrace.

POD song sampler from Road Race CD, songs Rocketboy, Dragon Shoes, We Both Decide Tribute

Below, Leach at a May 2009 show at The Way Post on N. Williams Ave.