A West Virginia chef-turned-musician performs songs about his and the Mountain State’s struggles that will tug at your heart.
Decades ago, under the sprawling skies of Trout Valley, West Virginia, Allan Dale Sizemore discovered his first piece of magic amidst the rubble.
It was a warm summer day, and his uncle, a familiar figure with a generous spirit, stumbled upon an old Harmony guitar in a trash pile.
Missing a string and bearing a gaping hole in the back, to anyone else, it was merely a broken instrument.
To Allan, however, it was a treasure. This battered guitar became his companion, his confidant, and the key to a world of melodies.
Music became the heartbeat of his upbringing, and Allan soon learned how to create his own rhythms.
Songs like “God’s footprints” tell the story of his personal struggles and those of other West Virginians in a style reminiscent of Tom Waits and newer working-class artists like Oliver Anthony.
“I’ve been singing and writing about this stuff for years now,” he said, referring to lost jobs, corruption, and other problems affecting the state. “If you’d told me 30 years ago we’d be worse off than we were then, I’d have told you there’s no fucking way that we could be worse off than we are now.”
He spoke candidly about West Virginia’s hardships and the resilience of its people, highlighting his commitment to uplifting his community by donating a portion of his earnings to local food banks.
However, amid all those struggle, Allan’s dedication to music bore fruit.
From TV series like Barnwood Builders, where he served as a music consultant, to performances on stages alongside legends like The Wood Brothers and The Avett Brothers, Allan’s talent resonated beyond the mountains of West Virginia.
He’s played at iconic festivals, including Merlefest and the Americana Music Festival, leaving his sound in the hearts of those who listened.
Yet, Allan’s life hasn’t just been about music. Over the years, he juggled various passions. A trained chef, he once ran a chain of successful restaurants, where culinary creativity married hard work.
The decision to close those restaurants was bittersweet, but he knew music was the calling he couldn’t ignore.
He recalled the absurdities of running restaurants and the power of live performances in an era dominated by technology and streaming platforms.
“My joke on stage a lot of times is about how now that the government has quit making pennies, I’m not sure how the hell I’m gonna get paid from Spotify,” he said, laughing while shaking his head.
Now, at the age of 55, with hundreds of songs under his belt and an unwavering spirit, Allan continues to write and perform.
His musical legacy is a reflection of his life—a harmonious blend of struggle, joy, and unwavering passion.
No longer just that boy playing a battered Harmony in Trout Valley, Allan is a voice for the heart of Appalachia.
