01.23.07

Sometimes we like things so much we can barely be objective

Posted in back catalogue, matthew ryan, some albums we done liked others we ain't - January 23rd, 2007 at 10:36 am by Mimi

Sigh.

Matthew Ryan – Concussion and From a Late Night High Rise

Sometimes I just hate myself for missing out on the good stuff while I’m off reading books about math theory or comic books. (And here I will have to WARN for me talking in comic book metaphors and references for a while, since I’ve been on a comics-reading jag lately.)

These two albums are very different, which to some people would show depth of talent and interest and to others will be just annoying—

Digression: I think we have all had the experience of hearing a record and just flipping the hell out over how perfect and integral to our continued existence it is only to buy the artist(s)’s other work and be gob-smacked by how unlistenable it is. There are acts that transcend this—but even I don’t want to listen to Guitar Town. Change is hard, and there’s a fine line between artistic development and what devoted listeners will stretch to accommodate (looking, as per always, at you, Ryan Adams). We all find our own balance with this. I am often the person who likes someone’s early work and hates the subsequent (big budget) stuff. Cricket is much more loyal of a listener than I am. [I like to think not loyal to a fault. That's probably arguable though.—Cricket]

I said all this because Matthew Ryan is someone for whom I am willing to stretch to accommodate his growth.

I suppose the most remarked-upon aspect of Matthew Ryan’s music, based on reviews (both heinously critical and exuberantly overly excited), is his voice. This is a make or break issue for anyone listening to him. Some people are gonna hate him because his vocals are this crushed glass and whiskey-broken rasp that wavers from bitter to wounded to pleading. Listen to it with the headphones on and give him a couple goes.

Concussion came out in 2001 and features a duet with Lucinda Williams on the song “Devastation”—cue Cricket! [This was one of the first few of Ryan's songs I heard. His voice had already sold me, but singing with Lu? Sent me over the edge. Also I'm re-listening to both albums as I go through this and I keep getting distracted and just stopping to listen. It's really that good. Er, to say I am absurdly giddy about Matthew Ryan is probably the understatement of the century.—Cric]

“Rabbit” feels like a late Sunday evening as the sun’s going down and you just feel like crap and lonely for no real reason. Those days you get in the car and turn the crank and everything just feels hopeless, even with the sticky humidity and a bright sunset grounding you. This is sort of a tattered driving song. I’m sure Cricket likes it. It think he alludes to “rabbiting” away from a crappy situation instead of sticking around to work things out. [I don't know about this being a driving song, since I think this song requires scotch and we all know I don't drink and drive.—Cricket]

My god, this record is bleak. Normally, this isn’t my thing at all, because if I want to be depressed, I can just turn on the news. Even on “Happy Hour” when he’s singing about letting go and letting god, it feels way more Tom Waits than anything else. “If you had everything you wanted, what would you wish for, and what would you lose.” I think this lyric is pretty exemplary of the sharp, bitterness Ryan manages to fill with poignancy rather than pathos. Basically, he’s saying that without hope there is nothing, and what is the meaning of hope when you have everything and have no need to hope. That’s a little weighty for pop music and I think I see why he’s had to work to get an audience. Dumbing yourself down to sell records seems to work in Nashville. [And clearly Ryan isn't dumbing any of it down. Or dulling the pain.—Cricket]

Look, if you’re terribly, tragically existential like Cric and me, you need this record. She likes to listen to depressing crap when she’s depressed (why is beyond me) and I like to be reminded sometimes of the universality of experience. We all get down (as in sad and not breakdancing), and a lot of that has nothing to do with anything tangible. This record has that feeling of the inevitability of tragedy and heartache that comes to everyone’s lives no matter how good or well-ordered. [But. But, you see, it's oddly hopeful for all that. Listening to it fills my chest with so much emotion that I feel I could burst and there's as much joy as there is misery in that emotion. Really, I love this so much that I can't even write sensibly about it. It's probably best that Mimi did the bear's share of the work here because you’d just get giddy squeeing from me and nonsensical stories about my past romances.—Cric]

I am extremely embittered that I didn’t previously own this. ARG! Bitter, I tell you! [I agree. We got the head's up here from a boy I know and really I should have listened to him the first time he mentioned it. The good news is we have close to a dozen albums to luxuriate in now, rather than having had to wait for all of them to come out.—Cric]

Now From a Late Night High Rise. However hyperbolic you think the above review was, it ain’t got nothin’ on this.

Just buy this, if for no other reason than to support a guy from Nashville who needs your support. It’s like buying local produce, but with music. [He is kind of like those perfect summer Heirloom tomatoes you buy from the guy with the truck at the side of the road, but you know, with music and no seeds.—Cricket]

From “Babybird:”

Baby, baby, please
Get up off your knees
This ain’t the time or place to grieve all you grieve
I’m declaring war on arrogance
It’s always been the worst and the fall of men
Just look at Rome, look at the old south
It’s the oppressed that show you then and now
How sheer will can turn the world on its side
And when they do it again
Your luxury
SUVs
Won’t be
No place to hide

Uh, hello, what? This isn’t vapid, I-love-you-baby bullshit songwriting, folks. Bring your mind and engage with the songs and you’ll come out the other end more than just entertained, maybe also a different sort of person. [I can't believe you left out: "Martin Luther King and the Liberty Bell/vs. a Super Bowl ring of artifacts of Hell/Hello could you please, hold for a while?" Oh, catch me before I just fall down and die from the goodness of it.—Cricket]

On “Providence,” Ryan’s voice almost brought me to tears with the strained hurt and need. I’m a total bitch, so this one will probably win you over. Also, the weird electronic beats work here in a way I’m not usually a fan of.

“Everybody Always Leaves” is this weird upbeat pop-y sounding song with these beautiful, poetic lyrics that is completely about juxtaposition of the tempo and electronic peppiness with the devastation of the words. Holy crap. [I'm nearing embarrassing myself if I keep going on about how much I love this. And goodness knows I have no shame, and am pretty hard to embarrass. I feel the need to digress and talk about his website (good, especially so compared to the usual Nashville craptasticness) which features graphics of the man with dark and light wings in front of my favorite bridge. It's like before I even knew it, some one was tailor-making the design exactly for me.—Cricket]

“All Lit Up:”

I’m all lit up
From the inside.

What on earth has turned me into a lyrics quoting fourteen year old? The glory that is Matthew Ryan’s vocal delivery. Man. This stuff verges on EMO and I am eating it up with both hands. Maybe Cric and I traded brains while I was in the whiskey-induced coma? You know, in a totally unsurprising turn of events, this record sort of reminds me of RYAN ADAMS! Yes, I am nothing if not predictable. [Maybe Concussion is close to Whiskeytown-era Adams, otherwise, ugh.—Cricket]

This is the closest I get to liking mainstream pop music (of which this is somewhat, in that it sounds like the Postal Service and that ilk in a lot of ways), and people who find that music accessible will like this record more than some of the other stuff we’ve gone totally batshit for. [I confess to liking that kind of music and, man, this album dissolves me emotionally. Concussion is the most perfect kind of alt.country, while From a Late Night High Rise traverses almost to the other end of the good music spectrum.—Cricket]

The last track is spoken word, and as much as I want to listen to it over and over to hear Matthew talk, it’s about a very personal tragedy for him, and I just feel sort of like it’s too much emotional voyeurism. [This is "The Complete Family" and you have to be made of stone not to be won over by this.—Cricket]

If you are around our part of the world, after you buy the albums, go see him live. [If you can make the Nashville show, you know you will find us there looking all emo like Eeyore.—Cric]

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