Ryan Calder Band » Ryan Calder

New album, songwriting and finding inspiration

Ryan — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 12:30:33 +0000

It’s never a perfect science as to what makes a hit song. Some say the key to good songwriting is the melody. Some say good songwriting is the combination of a catchy melody with the right lyrics. Some say songwriting has little to do with it – it all depends on the artist… some artists will sell plenty of copies of a new album no matter how poor the songwriting is.

For me, lyrics are as paramount as the music. A catchy melody is only an inspiration to me if the lyrics convey something meaningful to the listener. In other words, songwriting should make a point. The author should stand for something.

The other important aspect of songwriting is honesty. I will say that I like my private world, because it’s exactly that: it’s a secret place where my frustrations, insecurities and vulnerability are safe from the scrutiny of the world outside.

The conundrum is that inspiration for good songwriting – the deeper truths – are found in that private world. It’s the stuff that we all relate to. And a good song is an honest song. A good album is an honest album.

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If you haven’t already deduced it by now, it’s a time of reflecting on my own inspiration, and thinking about the new album. My life has taken on new meaning in the past 18 months. The band has matured, travelled a bit and we’ve discovered some things about ourselves. I find inspiration and confidence in this.

The other obvious inspiration for a new album is that I’m a father of two now, and I look at everything differently. I find I’m constantly asking questions. Do I practice what I preach? Am I honest enough to say no? What kind of world do I want my kids to grow up in? What makes me angry? Where do I find peace? Is there hope?

Songwriting and inspiration for this new album is wide and varied… I’m intrigued more and more by bible characters. I wonder about God constantly. I’m inspired by living legends. I’m angry and optimistic about the city I live in. I’m more in love with my wife than I was when I fell in love with her. And my kids bring me inexpressable joy and hope for the future.

You know… normal, simple truths.

If anything, the new album will be cranked up. Somehow, I will be able to afford that electric guitar. We’ll get Tammy’s vocals up to full throttle. Rudi will smack his pig skins. Jon will reinvent how a keyboard is played. And we’ll throw Berto out on the audience to crowd surf.

In other words, it might get loud.

Mudman triathlon part two 2011

Ryan — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 20:27:55 +0000

Albert Falls. 9am. It’s 169 degrees. And here I am, along with several hundred other crazy nut jobs, on the banks of the dam about to begin the second installment of suicide.

Okay, that’s slightly dramatic. But you get the picture: It’s the start of the second Mudman Triathlon at Albert Falls Dam.

Staring out at the open water, I could already feel my lungs protesting at what lay ahead. Not only is it choppy, open water… but it’s fighting the masses for 750 metres in the dam… and that’s just the start. Then we get on the bike for 20 kilometres, and then run five kilometres.

“Is this your first one?” asked the gentleman alongside me, obviously noting the anxiousness on my face. “No,” I reply. “I just know what we’re in for. How about you?”

He chuckles. “I’ve also done it a few times,” he replied. “You’re the singer?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen you on the stage a number of times.”

“Cool. Ryan’s my name.”

“Johan!” He gives me a firm handshake. We chat a bit more before the siren sounds and we dive off into the depths.

The first loop of the swim is the usual mosh pit – getting kicked in the head, scratched and punched, stopping and starting and stopping again because some idiot in front decides to do breastroke. And that’s only 100 metres in. After 350 metres, we’ve completed one loop, so we get out the water, run/stagger/crawl around the parked Land Rover, and repeat it all over again.

About 18 minutes on the swim… far too slow, but nonetheless, done. I surface from the swim and meet my trusty seconders and fan club for this installment: Tam and Rachel Grace. The latter’s perplexed, furrowed brow seems to say, “Why you doing that dad?”

Beats me. Still trying to figure it out.

I limp my oxygen-deprived frame to the transition and fumble around getting myself dressed for the bike. Everyone else is also huffing and puffing, and there’s not much banter going on in the blazing heat, which makes me wonder: if we’re not gunning for first place, why are we doing this again?

“Is anyone having fun yet?” I bellow across the bike pound. A few exhausted chuckles, then quiet again. “I didn’t think so!”

The bike leg starts by going up. And up. And up… all the way to the top of the Msinsi nature reserve. It’s a 10-kilometre loop, which means I, as a full-distance sucker, have to do it twice. I’m pacing myself against the rest of the mob… and there are all shapes and sizes. Going up the hill I pass three serious boeps, and can’t help but wonder how they got ahead of me in the swim. Possibly more buoyancy?

Too much to think about, as I try to keep up with the skinny dude in front of me. He seems to have a good tempo going, so I try and stay on his wheel as we ascend the hill…

We’re nearing the top when it suddenly dawns on me that I haven’t drunk anything yet. This skinny dude surely can’t maintain this tempo the whole way? We’re not even three kilometres in! Still, I knuckle down and keep him within my sights… although by now, the sun is blazing down, my vision is blurry, my thighs are about to split open and I’m ready to cough up a lung. Dehydration is something we’ve been warned about, and I can’t help but think that something cold and wet for the throat would be just the business right about now.

At the peak of the climb is a water table! With three girls cheering us all on! Problem is, they’re sitting. In front of a table of cups and an ice cold tank of water. What kind of sick joke is this, I wonder. “Would you like some?” they ask. But now the skinny guy is laughing and forging ahead.

“I’ll hopefully be coming around again,” I tell them, “Be ready!” And I haul after the skinny dude, who seems to have new-found strength going downhill.

When it comes to downhill, I have two problems. Firstly, no shocks. Secondly, no boep.

The shocks problem means my arms are getting more of a workout than my legs. The boep problem is that when you’re going downhill on a bike, it really helps to be fat. All the overweight contenders I thought I’d ditched on the way up were catching me on the way down. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

At the end of the first loop, some smart punk, beer in hand on the side of the trail, asks “Are you guys full distance?”

“Ya,” I reply, wheezing and huffing.

“I’m sure you’re going the wrong way.”

“Nice try,” I say. “Have another beer.”

Up we go again, this time with kiddies and a mob of half-distance athletes in tow as they start their first and only leg. We reach the top of the climb and the water is available this time, which makes everything seem mildly beautiful. And so begins the descent. Going downhill I realise that keeping my mouth open is a bad idea, because of the dust churned up from the riders. But being out of breath, there’s little option.

By the time the run comes, I must have swallowed a small anthill. What mud? They should call this the Dustman Triathlon.

I have no words to accurately describe the run. The course goes up a single trail through the forest and down again, on uneven ground. Impossible to get a rhythm going. In the February mid-morning heat, only Satan himself could have designed such a course.

One step at a time, with the odd drink… plod plod plod… and eventually, the finish line appeared, along with my support crew. And who else should I encounter there, but Johan. He unfortunately cut his foot on the slipway in the swim, and had to bail out. “Next time,” he says with grim determination. I admire that.

Happily united at the finish line.

I revealed my medal to Rachel, who claimed it as her own. All that, just to give the prize away. Why do I do this again? No idea. But I feel like I’m getting closer to an answer. Maybe the next one will reveal it…

Mudman triathlon part two 2011: Training blog

Ryan — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 06:47:59 +0000

On March 6, I will be making like a bread truck and hauling buns in the second Mudman.

The problem with training for the Mudman is the multi-discipline nature of the event. It’s not like, “Oh ok, let me go for a jog, and see if I collapse from a heart attack… if not, I’m good to go!”

Oh no, dear minions… there’s no shortcut here. If you don’t put in the time, you don’t get there results. You have to apply yourself over a period of time to each discipline. Herewith, the training diary:

Thursday, 24 Feb:

A little late to start training, I know. But none the less, an evening gym session. Began with the bike. Taking my cue from Lance Armstrong, my plan was to ride a low gear and keep a very high cadance. That means, basically, blicksem it as fast as you can. Managed 15 minutes at 100 revolutions per minute. Frik… it hurt. 150 calories in 15 minutes. But then the fun began… because then it’s the treadmill. The next 10 minutes would have looked hilarious on film, as I can only imagine what I must have looked like to passers by: something similar to the running motion of a penguin with a pineapple shoved up its rear end. 12 minutes, 2.2 kilometres.

Friday, 25 Feb:

Slept like the dead last night. The endorphines were still flowing this morning, and I started the day feeling superior. Took to researching about calories, weight loss and gaining a six-pack that will make me even more irresistible to my wife. (Fitness is as much about how much baggage you carry as it is about how fast you can blitz a time trial.) So it all looked doable at 8.06am – only select, fresh, healthy food was on the cards.

By 10.37am, I was starving. Then lunch-time rolled around, and on this particular day it was a company affair, with catering consisting of pies, mini hamburgers and chips.

Bleak. I had two carrots as well.

To redeem myself… hill reps. It works like this: sprint up a long hill (around 100-200 metres), jog back down the hill. Repeat three times.

Experts maintain this is good for strength, cardio and burning fat fast. From my experience, I would add it’s also good for sadistic-type personalities and exorcising demons.

Saturday, 26 Feb:

Lactic acid build up. That means stiffness… and I feel now like I am literally walking like a penguin. No one has said anything, but I wonder whether they’re just being polite. Those hill reps were probably a bit premature. I am stiff in the weirdest places… but we won’t go there.

Rather than wallow in the mire, I decide to push (run?) through the pain barrier, and so set off on a five-kilometre afternoon session. With the sun blazing down in typical February KZN heat, I was not quite 100 metres down the road when I began to wonder whether this was such a good idea. 4.75km… 26 minutes of sheer sweaty throbbing.

Sunday, 27 Feb:

Rest day. Ate pasta. Went to church. Prayed.

Monday, 28 Feb:

Strong in the faith that my prayers would be answered, I resolved that every last achievement from my previous visit to the gym had to be bettered. The plan was to get there in the evening… but phonecalls, work and general life got in the way, so resorted to push ups.

Tuesday, 1 March:

Sore chest. Other commitments during the day and the evening, but planned on getting to gym at lunch for a swim. But by 9pm, I was asking, “Erm… where did this day go again?”

Wednesday, 2 March:

"It's a slow, sanctifying process..."

Put aside everything else and after dropping off a CD with popular local DJ Steady Eddie, I found my way to gym. Cycle to begin with. Blasted 15 minutes on the bike. Ok, maybe “blasted” is a generous description. It’s all relative. In comparison to a crippled tortoise, I blasted it. But still thinking, “there’s every chance that I will still come last in the race”.

Perseverence, they say, is the key… so I followed the bike ride with 3 kilometres on the treadmill at a pace of 5:10/km, rounded off by 500-metre swim (completed in 9:30).

Bought wife a McFlurry on the way home, as per her request. Resisted getting myself one. I am so righteous.

Thursday, 3 March:

Another evening session. Same workout as last night, in the hope it would get easier. Man, was I wrong! By the end of the run, I was seeing bright lights and everything seemed other-worldly. I thought exercise was supposed to be good for you? All this seems to be doing is killing me slowly and not-so-softly.

*Sigh!* Perseverance, they tell me. Training is a slow, sanctifying work that somehow, in the end, produces the results. But it all takes an agonising amount of time. Roll on race day…

Parenthood: The rockstar life

Ryan — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 14:53:04 +0000

So there we were, Saturday night, 11pm… my missus and I… staring blankly at the mixer.

The birthday cake for our two-year-old daughter had just come out the oven and was cooling on the counter. The day began at 5.15am (our kids don’t quite understand why that’s illegal) and we haven’t stopped since then. Ah, parenthood.

The hypnotic effect of the butter icing swirling around in the mixing bowl was enough to begin my philosophical departure: what was life like before the birth of our kids?

I honestly can’t remember. My life was probably really pathetic. Back then, if I could remember, we probably did whatever the hecky we wanted to. Not being a parent meant spontaneous decisions, meal times whenever we wanted to eat, weekend sleep-ins… it was all on the cards. We could fill our time with our own endeavours. We could sleep as much as we wanted, we could watch TV for hours, we could visit Durban beach on a week night, we could…

Like I said: pathetic.

Our life is very different now. The band continues on and will continue on, but rock ‘n roll has got nothing on parenthood. You can argue all you want with me, but nothing requires more robustness, more hardcore all-round ability, than parenting. It’s true. Ain’t no ‘hood like the parenthood – an area made up of the most hardcore, rockstar human beings around. Keith Richards… pathetic. Moms and dads… rockstars.

Sharing is caring...

My wife snaps me out of my meanderings and hands me a whisk to speed up the process.

Our rockstar Rachel wants a “pink cake with ballies”, so here we are, whipping it all together.

The next day, the ballies (Astros) go on the cake.

A proudly South African birthday meal...

Her birthday party is a great success, she is spoilt rotten with presents and we are blessed with an awesome, rockstar group of friends who travel out en masse to celebrate at Albert Falls for the lunch-time party.

Loads of children running around, babies in arms getting passed around, three generations of family and friends altogether around the braai…

This is the life, and I’m in my element.

I know I’m biased, but I think this little girl is awesome. I thought I’d just share that, and a couple of pics from the day. Two years ago, parenthood started me on a journey which has still only just begun, but there is no way I would go back. Never. This is the rockstar life.

Ain't nothing like a load of open space...

"My happy birthday party!"

Happiness is...

Blowing out the candles...

Behind the Song: Hide Away

Ryan — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 18:58:58 +0000

It’s not often that I get to just sit and play guitar, but on this particular Saturday afternoon, I was strumming the chords that would become this song when Tam walked into the room and started singing spontaneously.

I remember we’d both been pretty busy and it was nice to just be at home, with no agenda for the day. Tam walked in, heard the chords and said, “Hmmm, that’s nice!” and then proceeded to sing “Run away…”

[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

That was the catalyst for this song which found its roots in Psalm 63. I love David’s yearning, his complete desperate dependence in the words “my soul clings to you”. I cohere with that at least three times a week.

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This song was tracked and recorded fairly liberally, and I’m not convinced we got the full measure out of this song, even though I still really like the version on the album. This was the first song Tammy recorded on vocals, and she keeps saying she wasn’t fully warmed up and she can hear it. To be honest I think there’s an authenticity in the vocal tracks of this song which is what I like about it.

On a technical production note, Roberto’s bass solo in this song ended up with a bit too much compression for my liking in hindsight. What makes his bass playing so unique is the raw funk tone he gets when he’s playing live, which isn’t there in this song. Be that as it may, I still think the mood is captured perfectly and the sentiment in this song, with its 6/8 timing and lazy rhythm, aligns quite nicely musically and lyrically.

Behind the Song: Loving Every Day

Ryan — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:39:14 +0000

This song was the first one penned for the new album, about four years ago. It was one of those songs which very quickly had a structure, but developed slowly lyrically… so much so that it was only completed last year.

So for those who don’t know, my beautiful wife Tamlyn Mary is the inspiration behind this tune. Without boring you with too many details, Tam and I met at a time when I was fairly rogue.

I was disillusioned with pretty much everything: God, Christianity, South Africa and it was all supposed to be. I was a cynic. Love was a kitsch concept wrapped up in Valentine’s Day commercialism, and marriage was an out-dated idea. I was listening to Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit to find some kind of solace and relief from all the happy people everywhere.

But God in His gentle way let “grace [smile] upon this reckless heart and I was leant a helping hand”.

[Audio clip: view full post to listen]

Now, there are cynics who will gag, puke or simply roll their eyes at the idea, but it’s true. Ask any wedding photographer – they are fully booked months in advance. People want to get married. I asked an agnostic, middle-aged man – one of the most intelligent guys I know – why he wanted to marry the woman he’d been living with for 15 years and who had given birth to their 3 children. “Because we just wanted to,” he said. “I have no more intellectual reason than that.”

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Marriage is not an out-dated idea. Everything I had been told by the media, Hollywood and self-help shows was a lie. For me, marriage has been an awesome, incredible four-year adventure… and I can’t wait to see how the rest unfolds.

Musically it bears influence from Eagle Eye Cherry’s Save Tonight and Marc Cohn’s Walking in Memphis, and I really like the feel of Jon’s piano solo which for me encapsulates the mental picture of various seasons of life passing by, but with a good measure of joy that can be found in each. The band took to this song really easily, and it slotted into place fairly simply when we were recording it.

I hope this song encourages you if you are married. This is a song for the mundane moments of life. This is a song to play after you’ve worked through an argument and find that the two of you are closer than you were previously. This is a way of celebrating marriage as a God-given gift, rather than some good idea.

And if you are single, I hope this song encourages you to find someone who makes you come alive.

Royal Rock 2010

Ryan — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 11:50:42 +0000

So there we were. Five against 5000. A freezing cold Friday night in Maritzburg. Thanks to BigBeat, we were given the opportunity to perform at the Royal Rock concert – part of the annual Royal Show. On the line up was the Ryan Calder Band, Watershed, City Bowl Mizers and Wonderboom.

RCB rocking the Royal Show

It was quite a different performance for us. From time to time it happens, but screaming teenage girls in the front row is seldom a Maritzburg feature most days of the year. I had wondered beforehand how quickly news would travel, but we never would have anticipated the response to Jon’s sex appeal.

It was only a week ago that Berto announced at our Hexagon shows that Jon is the only single member of the RCB. And six days later, there they were in their droves: thousands of dizzy teenage admirers, screaming their brains out in love-struck wonder at our 6 foot 4 keyboardist.

I must tell you… some nutter, wearing a gigantic 4-foot, 30kg hat, waltzed up to the front row, obstructing the view of those behind him. So an irate student behind the hat took it upon himself to try and dislodge it from the nutter’s head by chucking his shoe at the sculpture. But he must have had a few pints because he missed by miles and sent the shoe hurtling in the direction of the aforementioned keyboardist.

Jonz9r, being the dynamic stage personality that he is, nimbly ducked the flying shoe (George Bush would have been proud) mid-way through a riff and continued unabashed to rock the bras off the adoring minions.

It’s quite a view from a stage that size as well. Inamongst the screaming teenage girls were a few standout faces like our friends Galen Schultz and Kelly Macbean, Michelle Atagana, Linda, Annie, Debbie, Anthea, Jenette (who took the photo above), as well as hooligan groupies Neil du Plessis and Richard Bleeker. Man, those guys are classic – screaming “I love you Ryan!” in pitch-perfect, maniacal falsetto. Inamongst the noise it sounded just like my mom, which was comforting.

Our music was well received by at least six people, who bought new albums. In fact, one of them – Tim from Kokstad – arrived late and caught the last song, which he enjoyed so much that he decided it was good enough to warrant the purchase of On The Edge. Tim, you’re awesome.

By the way, we’re going to be on radio soon. Watch out groupies! News coming soon.

p.s. A VERY BIG thanks to all of you who continue to support us. We’ve been taking attendance registers behind the scenes and you’ll be rewarded with Jelly Babies. Chat to Rudi, he’ll distribute them.

Planning for the Hexagon Theatre

Ryan — Fri, 21 May 2010 12:32:22 +0000

We had a meeting on Saturday. It was scheduled for 8am. Yes, yes, I know, that’s not very rock ‘n roll. I even baked muffins. Seriously. Burnt them a bit, but insisted that on principle the rest of the band eat them. They politely, if uncomfortably, consumed my first attempt at chocolate muffins.

By 8.40am, we’re ready to begin. In attendance are Rudi, Roberto, Rachel Grace and yours truly. Apologies from Tam, who has work commitments, while Jon, we assume, is still slumbering in CT.

On the agenda for this meeting is what we’re gonna sing at the Hexagon Theatre next week. I hand out the proposed setlist. Rudi is happy to see that we have two acts and substantially more songs than yesteryear’s hour-long Better Days Show, while Berto scrutinizes the order of old, new and cover songs. Rachel, in the meantime, is showing off her colouring book to Rudi and crumbling muffins all over the carpet.

The meeting is brief, but never short, as we gab about everything else other than the task ahead, from advances in technology (such as Project Natal) to work-related stresses and headaches. The RCB get-togethers are a strange mix of group therapy and random banter, but for me it’s refreshing hanging around these hooligans.

But there’s a definite plan, and this is going to be one hot new run of shows from the RCB. Next week’s shows will encompass new songs (from On The Edge), old songs (from Better Days) as well as a number of favourites of ours from the likes of Cole Porter, Ben E. King and Chuck Berry. Yes kids, we’re old school. Even Rachel.

We are very ambitious with this new show, and there are just three nights to catch the fun. Hope to see you there.

Trailer: The Ryan Calder Band at the Hexagon Theatre

Live and solo with Rory Eliot

Ryan — Mon, 10 May 2010 09:23:59 +0000

Saturday night was one of those nights that took me back a few years. I took the stage with no band mates and just my acoustic guitar in a packed Crossways Pub in Hilton.

The occasion was actually the gig of Plush frontman Rory Eliot, who was out to showcase a few new tunes as the band goes into the studio shortly to record their fourth album. Rory invited me along to open up proceedings for the evening, post-Sharks/Stormers game.

On arrival, you could just tell it was going to be one of those evenings. Everyone is ticking after the steady flow of beer and shots, and the air has that smokey haze about it. It’s noisy inside and out, and getting from one side to the other of the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd means everyone has to breathe in and out alternatively. “Acoustic evening”… yeah, right.

And everyone is more courageous on a night like this. Occasionally some young executive gets up on a table and leads a slurry war cry. A few brawls ensue outside from time to time. You get the feeling that anything could happen on a night like this. As I say, it took me back a few years.

It’s a completely different vibe when you’re on your own up on a stage. Truth be told, it’s terrifying. It was terrifying back then, and it still is. Normally if things get out of hand, I can just go and hide behind my bodyguard Rudi at the back of the stage. But not tonight. There are times when you just have to remind yourself why you pay medical aid every month, and off you go.

To kick things off, On The Edge. Then I’m Alright. Wide Open World and More Beautiful Tonight brought out more drinks and the lighters swaying to and fro amidst the dopey haze. It’s nice to be playing to someone else’s fans, actually. You know that they’re not there for you, and as a result there’s less pressure. And this lot seem drunk enough and surprisingly happy enough to accommodate some of my originals, and there’s generous applause after each song.

Better Days rounds the set off and the crowd is warm, my job is done. My guitar is still intact, and I’m only bleeding from my fingertips. I send my wife an sms to assure her that I’ll live to sing another night and all my limbs are intact.

I then sat back and relaxed, and took up my seat to catch the Plush tunes. Today, Tainted and Wishing Well all fulfilled the usual magical fan club’s sing-along sessions, but I was interested in the new stuff. Carousel, Closer and Furtherest Place From Home show a new depth in Plush’s music, and it would be obvious to make the deduction from Rory’s university studies in songwriting in Bath (UK).

When we performed with Plush (in Cape Town at the Assembly), Rory told me that the growth from his studies is not something he’s necessarily aware of, but it seems “that’s what everyone else thinks”.

I first met Rory about three years ago, during the season of Rory Eliot and the Reason. It was after a hiatus of Plush, following the death of Rory’s band-mate and close friend Chas Smit. At the time we met, the band was rebuilding momentum, and one of the things I remember Rory saying was, “We do well because we write good songs.”

I agree. He does write good songs. The band works hard, they reach for greater things and are working their way up the SA music ladder even more. No doubt their fourth album will be a great new chapter in the band’s repertoire and something they push hard for, in the world of radio and in the commercial and corporate sphere. Here’s wishing them well.

Ryan Calder Band Album Production #5

admin — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 10:29:19 +0000

Recording more bits and pieces… bass, keyboard and other lesser known evils…