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An unfortunate corollary to Austin being a city with more bars than parking spots is that it also festers with an equal number of bar bands; friendly, safe blues rock that does little more than give frat boys an opportunity to lean over to a nearby girl and confidently declare, “I can play that on my acoustic guitar. You should hear me sometime.” Into this convenient slot slides Ryan Young, with his second full-length album, White Citrus. While perhaps at the top of the local niche, the artist’s uptempo songs rarely seem more than pleasant – something to throw on before cracking that first beer as the sun comes down – and are true to the genre to a fault.
“Genius” initiates the album with a fast paced, poppy acoustic guitar that strums over basic 2-4 snare beat. Sounding like the more relaxing offerings off of a White Denim album, it throws in some ebbing, effect-laden guitar before swelling up to a catchy chorus. The horn section seems to be the great redeemer here, adding a level of liveliness that makes one bounce in place ever so slightly. A nice guitar solo rings out during the latter third of the song, showing some of Young’s guitar proficiency. The highs on the guitar seem cut off though, keeping it from rising above the mix and truly crackle.
His instrumental adequacy soon gives way to a series of baffling metaphors in “I Got Me a…”. Singing about offering a girl some pot, Young declares that “I got me a pickle and its oh so green”. Take that for what you will. A funky beat makes this perhaps the most spirited track on the album as Erik Telford on trumpet lets loose with a wonderful solo as organ comps underneath – if you ignored the vocals, this would be the best offering on Citrus.
“By the Neon Lights” keeps things quiet and contemplative, with some fast acoustic fingerpicking. A few coordinated start-stop moments offer some rhythmic variety, and the coordinated melodic riffs are catchy and soothing. Young’s voice is in its prime here, fitting in with a slower, calmer folk pop sound. “Crickets in the Sand” loosens up the formula, starting with a long solo, as some thumping funky bass offers support. The band seems to find a nice compromise between energetic and smooth; elsewhere on the album, edgy moments are nipped at the bud before they become contagious, but here they roam freely.
For the first time giving the bass some limelight, “Sea of Green” features a nice opening riff as some Spanish guitar flutters over top. A welcome change of mood from the happier preceding tracks, this one seems veiled in a fog. A calm, poppy chorus makes this the most radio friendly track on the album. Young sings “you better sharpen your tools on a rainy day because you may need them”. As the rainiest sounding song on White Citrus, it seems appropriate that he would explore a variety of guitar techniques and sounds, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Drawing the album to a close, “Shiny New Toy” starts out slightly Broadway-esque with a bare bass/vocals exchange as instruments slowly filter in. Keith Hernandez’ crisp drum work propels the track along until several breaks leave Young to solo sing once more, at one point through a raspy microphone that lends an unusual amount of power behind his voice.
While the thirtysomething multi-instrumentalist is a competent player with a competent band, the genre of white-boy-blues-pop is so over-saturated that it takes something special to stand out. In White Citrus, the level of improvisation is minimal, flowing out only in the allotted solo slots. The rhythms are too simple, the mix too even, which makes each song seem painfully clean and sterile.
Blues is about sincerity and suffering, a channeling of energy through song. And while Young has a pleasant, crooning voice, he is no lyricist. “Dollar Bills,” for example, is an overly-moralizing song about the current economic depression, yet Young’s concern comes through in neither his voice nor his lyrics. There is no strain or angst, and the subject matter is laid bare with such awkward, trite wording that you get the impression that he just doesn’t care. Sounding like a puddle-thin Phil Ochs, he reminds us that “Now the FDIC ain’t got no green for me” and that, after the whole thing, he was “left feeling used if only slightly amused”. He pulls together the most logical and simple rhymes and offers no surprises. In the end, he confesses the flaws in his own album in the first few lines of the first track. “What a burden it would have to be/ to choose from all these people/ who all look like me/ nameless faceless yeah”. With so many others like Ryan Young, why should we burden ourselves with picking him out of the masses? The simple conclusion is that we shouldn’t. Listen to him in the bar, pay out your tab, tip your waitress, grab your gal by the arm, and go home – there’s nothing left to see here.
Websites:
www.ryanyoungmusic.com
Myspace
