Ryonkt : Today's Weather is Rainy

	rain dance A path to the house	Download full album	There’s a certain kind of beauty that graces only small things—things that hint of ties to something grander, but that include only what’s necessary to be complete unto themselves. It’s the kind of beauty that makes the haiku as strong a form as the sonnet, that lets the occasional bagatelle sing as loudly as a concerto. And it’s the kind of beauty possessed by this small (two tracks; 15 minutes) new album by Ryonkt. While it wouldn’t be entirely misleading to say that the music on “Today’s Weather is Rainy” is ambient, neither would it be entirely accurate. For while the music herein is extremely soothing and profoundly serene, Ryonkt brings a formal rigor to his compositions that has more in common with the early minimalist composers than with your typical ambienteer. This might seem like a pointless distinction, but it calls attention to this album’s primary strength—the meticulous, subtle, and ingenious ways in which Ryonkt coaxes his pieces into developing musically while still maintaining an undisturbed sense of stasis. Both tracks (and I think it’s probably safe to consider them as two parts of the same composition) are built around two-note figures. In “Rain Dance,” Ryonkt uses the least possible rhythmic tweak to transform his compact idea into a fully realized musical experience. The track begins with the two-note figure presenting itself at a regular and stately pace. Gradually, the second begins to come quicker on the heels of the first, creating a sensation similar to the irregular regularity of waves crashing on a beach. By the end of the piece, things have run to their logical conclusion and the notes are sounding simultaneously. It’s a perfect small moment. In “A Path to the House,” Ryonkt subtly (and then dramatically) manipulates the ways in which his chosen notes decay. At first the small changes in pitch and timbre are barely noticeable, as the notes hang in the air like wisps of fog on a still night. But as the piece evolves the changes become more and more pronounced; whispers become full throated cries, until finally the background becomes the foreground and the music comes to a satisfying climax. And with that climax, Ryonkt ushers us back into silence--relaxed, enthralled, and ready to experience the whole thing again. It’s amazing what can happen in a quarter hour. Dave Keifer

There’s a certain kind of beauty that graces only small things—things that hint of ties to something grander, but that include only what’s necessary to be complete unto themselves. It’s the kind of beauty that makes the haiku as strong a form as the sonnet, that lets the occasional bagatelle sing as loudly as a concerto. And it’s the kind of beauty possessed by this small (two tracks; 15 minutes) new album by Ryonkt.
While it wouldn’t be entirely misleading to say that the music on “Today’s Weather is Rainy” is ambient, neither would it be entirely accurate. For while the music herein is extremely soothing and profoundly serene, Ryonkt brings a formal rigor to his compositions that has more in common with the early minimalist composers than with your typical ambienteer. This might seem like a pointless distinction, but it calls attention to this album’s primary strength—the meticulous, subtle, and ingenious ways in which Ryonkt coaxes his pieces into developing musically while still maintaining an undisturbed sense of stasis. Both tracks (and I think it’s probably safe to consider them as two parts of the same composition) are built around two-note figures. In “Rain Dance,” Ryonkt uses the least possible rhythmic tweak to transform his compact idea into a fully realized musical experience. The track begins with the two-note figure presenting itself at a regular and stately pace. Gradually, the second begins to come quicker on the heels of the first, creating a sensation similar to the irregular regularity of waves crashing on a beach. By the end of the piece, things have run to their logical conclusion and the notes are sounding simultaneously. It’s a perfect small moment. In “A Path to the House,” Ryonkt subtly (and then dramatically) manipulates the ways in which his chosen notes decay. At first the small changes in pitch and timbre are barely noticeable, as the notes hang in the air like wisps of fog on a still night. But as the piece evolves the changes become more and more pronounced; whispers become full throated cries, until finally the background becomes the foreground and the music comes to a satisfying climax. And with that climax, Ryonkt ushers us back into silence--relaxed, enthralled, and ready to experience the whole thing again. It’s amazing what can happen in a quarter hour.

Dave Keifer

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