‘Calico’ paints a sonic romance between Ryan Beatty and collaborator, Ethan Gruska.
About half-way through Brockhampton’s ‘Saturation III’, you’ll hear the voice of a twenty-year-old Ryan Beatty singing the hook on ‘BLEACH’; a track that shook the walls of nearly every house party I went to in 2017. Painfully unaware that Beatty’s career would run parallel with my music taste for the six years to follow, I continued to admire him from a distance.
This April, after a Frank Ocean-esque three-year hiatus, Beatty released his third studio album alongside a compilation of artwork and live studio recordings. ‘Calico’ is ostensibly for no one, but with nothing to hide. Equal parts vulnerable and subdued, it feels like Beatty at his most authentic. Although an unexpected far cry from its electronic-fuelled predecessors; ‘Boy in Jeans’ and ‘Dreaming of David’, this album feels just as cohesive from start to finish and packs the same introspective prowess. Effortlessly floating from track-to-track through orchestral outros and effervescent string arrangements, ‘Calico’ definitely owes a share of its conviviality to producer, Ethan Gruska.
Scrolling through Gruska’s discography, I am shocked at how remarkably similar it is to one of my Spotify playlists. In the last year alone, the prolific collaborator composed and produced albums for SZA, Gus Dapperton, Del Water Gap, Holly Humberstone, Manchester Orchestra and Boy Genius (twice), just to name a few. It’s clear that Gruska fell out of the indie tree and hit every branch on the way down. There’s a notable Paul Simon influence in his solo music, which feels more present in ‘Calico’. It’s exactly that country-folk twang that makes this seemingly unlikely partnership work so well.
We open with ‘Ribbons’, a heartfelt story of reflection post-breakup that sets the table delicately for the album to follow. Complete with light percussion, gentle strings and laced with metaphors in second person (The ‘ribbons’ in question refer to tears running down Beatty’s face as he drives), it is clear from the start that Beatty is unafraid of addressing his flaws in the face of pain. There are two particular lines later in the track that I think about often:
“Who’s gonna hold you while you sleep? / Well, it’s brave to be nothing to no one at all”
It’s almost like Beatty comes to a stark realisation mid-thought, finding a sudden comfort in his solitude. The latter of the two lines could be found on a billboard on the drive between Palm Springs and Los Angeles around the time of the album’s release. Feels right, doesn’t it?
Beatty contemplates the feelings around letting go of a relationship in ‘Bruises Off The Peach’. As the instrumentation widens, we hear him belt for the first time in the bridge; a familiar nod to his previous albums, as he reassures himself that real love would always hold him down. It’s worth noting that his fruit of choice is one that bruises notoriously easily, hence the saying “bruise like a peach”. Perhaps this is testament to his sensitivity and gentle nature. That being said, ‘Bruises Off The Peach’ shows no signs of guilt in separation. Lyrically, this is Beatty at his most cut-throat, truly “careless like a comet”.
Photo by Daniel Adhami
“Infinite Jest and cinnamon bread / Why don’t you make yourself at home?”
In the opening lines of the equally honest, ‘Cinnamon Bread’, Beatty references Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace’s novel about the toxic trappings of the entertainment industry, alongside the home comfort and familiarity of ‘cinnamon bread’. Beatty’s tumultuous industry roots echo a familiar journey of a viral YouTube sensation, primed to be a heartthrob. There’s a dichotomy here between the vulnerability expressed in Infinite Jest and the emotional restraint he maintains in his personal life. “Why don’t you make yourself at home?” might be Beatty yearning for a connection with somebody who can acknowledge and empathise with both sides.
The appropriately spacey ‘Andromeda’ is undoubtedly my favourite track on the album. Maybe there’s a personal connection to references of hot Arizona nights that take me back to my time spent there. Either way, Gruska and Beatty’s sonic connection is at its strongest here. Beatty oozes astrological poetry over triumphant string compositions, gentle acoustic guitar and soft synths. The final lines of the chorus are:
“Spinning out Andromeda / watching Jupiter come back around again”
Beatty is referring to the discovery that the Andromeda galaxy is spinning out towards the Milky Way due to the gravitational pull of both galaxies, destined to eventually collide and become one. I too like to see the romance in this.
It’s at this halfway point in the album that I start to recognise potential similarities to Harry Styles’ latest, notably in some of its melodies and breathy vocal intonations. Don’t get me wrong, I can see how a few tracks on the album might make for appropriate ‘Harry’s House’ b-sides, but for me, ‘Calico’ scratched an itch that Styles couldn’t reach. It felt more genuine and had a better pen game, with Gruska’s thoughtful and patient production sewing together an overall, more congruent project. Much unlike the aforementioned, Beatty’s free-flowing vocals feel like another instrument in the orchestral pool, lending a hand to an atmospheric low-end of muted pianos, timid woodwind and string arrangements. Sure, there’s a fine line between cohesion and redundancy, but the record’s more idiosyncratic tracks like Andromeda and Hunter allow for an experience equally complex and consumable.
The seven-minute ‘Hunter’ is a cowboy tale, full to the brim with western imagery like “Cedar trees fall in the forest / echoing the cardinal chorus”, “Frost covered meadows” and “a ‘73 Chevy truck”. It’s Beatty at his most wistful and poetic. Honestly, he’s really showing off. Real-life cowboy and extremely talented slide guitar player, Dylan Day features here. I’m not sure to what extent, but a third pair of hands is clear on ‘Hunter’. It’s a rare, but important, stray away from the otherwise more predictable Beatty/Gruska pairing. The track has moments that remind me of Radiohead’s ‘Desert Island Disk’, and I mean that as the highest compliment.
‘White Teeth’, initially my favourite on first listen, is arguably the most structured on the album. Soft and melodic, with country-leaning instrumentation throughout in the form of banjos, and even a harmonica, it’s difficult not to fall into a comfortable slumber as the track washes over you. Beatty and co-writer, Michael “Uzi” Uzowuru, a frequent collaborator of Frank Ocean, write about the memories that remain after a love is lost, like “a red wine stain” to “white teeth”. The track serves as a reminder that we are mosaics of everyone we have ever loved; with “little clues” of them resurfacing in our day-to-day habits. ‘White Teeth’ is yet another healthy take on moving on, while still recognising the impact a fleeting relationship has on your identity.
‘Calico’s’ final instalment, ‘Little Faith’ touches on deeply personal themes, but with an all-too-familiar sense of optimism. Beatty references the feelings of apprehension towards medicating for mental health purposes. He could also be talking about addiction and relapse; “[taking] a pill from the palm of an angel…to clean up [his] act”. Gruska teams up with slide guitar cowboy, Dylan Day, Phoebe Bridgers’ string composer; Rob Moose, and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver. I would do anything to be a fly on the wall in Rick Rubin’s ‘Shangri-La’ studio as this track came to light. In the second half, Beatty shifts the focus towards his relationship with his mother, noting that she always knew his truth as a queer man:
“Going through your jewellery / I smile, but I know you see through me / You knew who I was before I knew me / on the very first day.”
In the album’s final lines, I feel like Beatty is addressing the listener directly, repeating “What’s it gonna take? Have a little faith” over a stack of cinematic strings and lap steel guitars. At its core, it’s this “faith” that feeds the essence of the entire album.
In an era of constant output, ‘Calico’ is testament to the musician hiatus. You can hear the three years of growth and self-awareness as Beatty sheds layers with each track. Beatty originally described the album as “the slow closing of the wound”, and it’s clear from its themes that ‘Calico’ exudes the ability to love, lose and heal with patience and optimism. In a press release, Beatty tells the interviewer that “letting good and bad experiences exist in your life is how you free yourself from pain”. I’m working on being kinder when I’m hurting, and learning to be more patient with my deep emotions. If it’s not already obvious, thematically, this album came at exactly the right time for me. It is clear that even when Beatty feels nothing, he feels it completely.
Favourite tracks: Andromeda, White Teeth, Cinammon Bread
