What gives? One Little Indian sprang from Anarcho-Punk roots and formerly specialised in intelligent, left-of-centre pop with a subversive edge and an impressive penchant for dance-based artists as a second string. Where did the Americana leaning come from?
Well, whoever set the ball in motion should get a large star and go to the front of the class. I mean, pre-Xmas we got Jesse Malin's magnificent "Fine Art Of Self-Destruction"; then Jeff Klein's moribundly fabulous "Everybody Loves A Winner". And now, as the summer begins to peak and people act strangely with the ensuing hot weather, here comes MATTHEW RYAN'S "Concussion": if anything, even darker than Klein's masterpiece and possibly even better. Phew!
Although Ryan hails from Pennsylvania, "Concussion" (his third, following "Mayday" and "East Autumn Grin") was laid down in Nashville over an 8-day spell fuelled by whiskey, coffee, cigarettes and raisin bread. That's obviously a potent prescription, too, as at least half of the resulting songs are deathly slow, fatalistic and totally fabulous, with a live, close-miked and "fuck the mistakes" vibe coming off the participants: the same attitude ensuring Klein's "Everybody Loves A Winner" was such a brilliantly confessional record.
Rather like Elvis Costello's "King Of America", most of "Concussion"s songs were contructed around Ryan's acoustic picking, with colouring from pedal steel, organ, cello etc added to suit. Ryan sings these pain-wracked, descriptive songs in a creepy, parched voice that's equal parts Tom Waits, Mark Kozelek and Peter Lorre and there's precious little redemption anywhere here. He sings: "we're all moving targets and it's all for sale" on the debased, stillborn blues of "Happy Hour" and it's nigh-on impossible to choke back the tears. Even something with the skeletal beauty of "Too Soon To Tell" is regret-ridden and irrepairably broken.
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So yeah, "Concussion" suggests Matthew Ryan is up there with the finest fatalistic US talents like Bill Callahan, Mark Koelek and Jeff Klein himself, but it's always a rewarding, melodic listen, however close the lure of oblivion. Indeed, when a full band enter the picture - like on the Lucinda Williams-assisted "Devastation" - the ensing bruised roots-y rock sound is entirely exhilarating.
Besides, "Concussion"'s other major trump card is its' killer trio of songs bringing it to the tape. The desperate, low-riding, harmonica-blarin' rockabilly of "Night Watchman" is a brillantly portrayed story of alcohol-fuelled domestic violence, suicide and murder. In it, Mother's favourite 13-year old Hank Low kills his vicious father and when Ryan comes to the fatal moment ("I came up slow behind, movin' awfully quiet, I remember summer crickets...I stabbed him 30 times") the tension is palpable.
It's superseded by a genius, bleeding version of The Clash's "Somebody Got Murdered" that's as good a Strummer tribute as you'll hear and then finally there's the unbearably poignant "Shake The Tree", where Matthew looks inwardly to a degree most of us would always shun. Devastating.
"Concussion" is a wounded, experienced record that haemorrhages compassion and wears its' scars with a defiantly blasted pride. Matthew Ryan is a major talent: don't for one second doubt it.
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