TERENCE RYAN

DON'T PANIC

3QTR / KOBALT

OUT 6/23/17

 

CONTACT: 

NOAH BETHKE (Publicist)

RENEE COTSIS (Publicist)

KEVIN WORTIS (Marketing)

 

BIO

Terence Ryan was born and raised in Pembroke, MA; a typical Boston suburb, tradesmen and commuters that sound like they’re from Southie and drink like they’re from Dublin.  Quick to lend a hand or levee a fist in defense of what they believe.  Not many musicians in town, if any.

No artists in T’s family, too practical, too much work to be done, too much food to keep on the table, late nights when dad would come home and wrap aching hands on a cold beer in living room.  They ate in the kitchen.  Terence made music in the basement.  First it was guitar, Junior High, mimicking the radio, then piano, then the laptop, then came bittorrent and in rushed a million influences – Kanye, Coldplay, Blink 182; later it would be Bon Iver, Frank Ocean.  It was here he honed his sound, not even aware that that was what he was doing, blending folk and soul, indie rock with banjos and big 808 drums. 

But it wasn’t until California that he found his voice. Terence found a friend to take over his industrial warehouse job and went west.  Working odd jobs, playing and writing, couch to couch, until he ended up living out of his car, seeping in parking lots, harassed by cops; inspired, or fed up, he would put towels in the windows, open his laptop and record vocals.  Find a quite campground and cut guitar and banjo.  The dream of music, career, fading, it just became survival.

Terence headed back east Fall 2016 with everything he owned in the back of a Honda accord.  Mass plates, dent in the back from that junkyard gate and what we become his debut LP scattered amongst a thousand Logic sessions on his Macbook.  Once home Terence headed to Maine, to a tiny fisherman’s house from the 1800 on the seashore to put the pieces together.

Terence, like so many kids growing up in the working class that America has left behind, is seeking more. What was once a linear path from hard work to upper middle class is not a meandering labyrinth of opiate abuse, government deception and seasonal depression. Terence wants more for his family, his peers, his community, the world.  His music is the searching for such, the desire or such, the story of so many people who feel disenfranchised.

In the mode of the great troubadours past Terence’s art is the modern struggle to achieve, not greatness, but just a little better then what we got.