Whiskeytown
Pneumonia (2001)

Review by: Brandon Copple
Date: 11/1/03

Ryan broke up the band right after recording this record, god knows why. Who wouldn't want to be in a band that makes music like this?

Pneumonia is mellow and sad, a record about abandoning your hometown and loving the wrong person and being loved by the wrong person and other stuff that 20-something small-town kids feel when they walk home alone on a cold city night.

Most of the songs are straightforward melodies, bittersweet and irresistible. Caitlin Cary’s fiddle is often the lead instrument, and it’s a swell compliment to Ryan’s strained, soulful voice. The music feels lush without seeming overproduced.

The last song, "Bar Lights," ends with Ryan breaking a string and stumbling over the final chorus. There is laughter in the studio and then you hear Ryan say “I’m going to the bar; fuck this.” The fact that they left it all in there – the string break, the blown vocal and the closing missive – is one of the things I love about this album.

Whiskeytown
Faithless Street (1998)

Review by: Brandon Copple
Date: 11/1/03

This is what I'm talking about. Sounds like it was recorded in a bar after closing time. Lots of rough edges but nothing false about it. Ryan knows what it's like to be stuck and desperate and drunk in a shitty little town. So do I. It's all here.

There is a song here called "Factory Girl" that is worth the price alone. A beautiful two-guitar piece with three verses that don’t form a narrative, but manage to tell a story – probably because it's a story you already know.

Whiskeytown
Strangers Almanac (1997)

Review by: Brandon Copple
Date: 11/1/03

"Parking lot, movie screen; I don't feel anything
Cigarette, beat-up TV; I don't feel anything"

The lines above open Strangers Almanac and suck you immediately in to a world of heartache. The song, "Inntown" is a powerhouse. At his best, Ryan writes sparse songs, sometimes just two verses. There are a few such gems here, including "Inntown," "Houses on the Hill" and "Everything I Do." The rest is fairly so-so.

Like all the Whiskeytown records, Strangers Almanac feels like the band made it in a week, locked up in a barn somewhere in North Carolina. I love it.