Stylophone

Sylophone is singular (Ryan) with many sketches of songs. Like pencil lines before the fully realized paintings. This is Stylophone. THUMBNAIL SKETCHES. Influenced by herbal therapy, the love of music and it's ability to provide the VERY nessesary soundtrack to lives, It sends us back and forth in time like a time machine. Words inked black on white paper. All of my life has been music, from watching the rainbow - outer edge circle on the "Capital" label of "Magical Mystery Tour" spin on my mom's turntable at 3 years old. Since about 10, I have been playing some form of music. My brother Raff and I recording our version of punk rock with my band trumpet and his snare drum from band... screaming into a cheap, K-mart, hand held recorder. Ice Cream Paramedics. Shit Mule. "Penis Your Majesty" in the early 90s. "Plane 15" with my best friends in the world in the late 90s. "Green Formica Table" ( http://www.myspace.com/greenformicatable) was so much fun, with friends I don't see enough of any more. "Ray Ray's Crackwhore" - Randy and I trying to make each other laugh. Echo Ghost (http://www.myspace.com/echoghostus). All of the above were wonderful collaborations. Stylophone is all me. Me jamming with myself. Cosmic on sound and possibility. Quick ideas, recorded fast in first take form so the inspiration does not have time to escape. Relaxed to perfection and channeling something from inside of me. Hear me learn to play the cheap instruments I have collected from Ebay! I started recording Stylophone in 2000, always thinking I would eventually go back and re-record the ones I liked into a more polished form. I don't know if that will ever happen. New ideas keep coming and ending up on my computer's harddrive. Maybe this is how Stylophone is ment to be. Rough, sketchy, learnings rushed into Cool Edit like a casting out of demons. I hope you find something nice about it! Drowned in creative offerings, drawn to music draped in green. Fingers ache to trace faces of ghost on white paper. Tired, of and from working a job that kills who I am. Herbs and ink. Paint me into a song of flowing words. Blue-green eyes. Artist. John Waters, Steve Martin, Jeff Mangum, David Cross, Black Belt Jones, Sam Henderson, and John Lennon are my Gods. Shying in a corner, I remain unseen. Music is the theme songs that keeps the film of life moving. I hope you are happy, safe, warm, with a full belly, and a temper for what is right (or left). RyAn