It is rare to go to a show and be very interested in the opener and have no knowledge of the headliner. On this evening, I made it to the Ballroom early to catch the force of nature known as Ryley Walker. Spotify Ryley and you get a mash of Brit-folk, raga-space, and guitar histrionics that are difficult to discern from your streambox. Catch him live and you see a self deprecating guitar wizard dotted with hysterical inter song banter. The last time I saw Ryley, a native Chicagoan, was the marathon final game of the World Series in which the Cubs won. The game lasted so long, with a rain delay, we were the last two in the bar. Good set this evening pulling from his several releases: Roundabout from The Halfwit In Me, and a stellar Primrose Green ( check that album cover for a cheeky homage to Van Morrison's Veedon Fleece). The highlight was an extended raga infused If I Were A Carpenter, the Tim Hardin one, not the sucky imitators. I urge readers to deeply listen to this artist, gems abound.
Martin Courtney is the front man for the indie band Real Estate. He has a solo record and was praised by Ryley as a "great songwriter". I didn't get that sense, he seemed like a lo-fi Ben Gibbard from Death Cab for Cutie. The songs were stripped down and Martin seemed uncomfortable sans the clubby millennial mope-core that usually occupies his audience. Martin would do well to imitate Ryley and drink a big glass of Idon'tgiveaFuck before the show. Maybe I should follow my own advice and give Martin a deep listen.
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