Matthew Ryan first debuted in 1997 with May Day (A&M Records) and since, has amassed an impressive catalog of critically lauded major label, DIY and indie releases to date. Matthew Ryan vs The Silver State is Ryan's 11th record released by Brooklyn indie 00:02:59. Photo by Bob Delevante.

I'm in a mood today. So this could read grumpy, or even curmudgeonly (if that's a word).Things are good, things are above the waterline. Work is good, I'm writing, I just scored a television show and there's more ahead. I just released a new song called Some Streets Lead Nowhere via iTunes and I'm finding there's a new flux of listeners finding me. My last tour was successful, more and more people coming out and singing along. My listeners are beginning to help me tell my story. And I'm genuinely moved by this new migration of intimate advocacy. It's a humanizing hum in all the flash and adverts. But there's a part of me that continues to feel unsatisfied in the new lawlessness of music and the way it's internalized.

I don't wish to mourn the horse-drawn wagon vs. the automobile. But things have changed, and there's no going back. The days we knew are a boutique, progress isn't always progress. Often it's what's expedient or more thoroughly marketed.

I miss the tactile nature of music. The submersing seduction of artwork. The smell of the ink on paper with the images and the liner notes. The large speakers, the console, the ritual of removing the plastic wrap and inserting the breathe of a world changed by someone's ability to say and sing something. I miss it. It's what I wanted for my work. I wanted it to exist for those that needed it, and I wanted my work to hopefully confide and insist that things are always on the verge of exploding into a perfect opportunity. I'm confused by the homogenized experience of downloading music now. There's no physicality to it now. There's no unique sensation to the event. It's a click and a few seconds and then a declaration of war vs. instant judgment. Now, the quality of music itself has been compromised for speed of delivery. The system of delivery is rarely gonna mug you like a sudden rain or burst of sunshine will. It's more of a cute little machine that looks more like it could light a cigarette rather than unleash Love Will Tear Us Apart, Positively 4th Street or Keep On Rockin' In The Free World on you.

But it is amazing isn't it? Even with all the new traffic online, and as compromised as technology has made the width and clarity of recordings, songs still arrest you. Anonymous and handicapped, they still take over a room, shake you, force you to shake your ass or stop cold in reflection, cry and smile. Songs. You can't fucking kill them. And if you're song is good enough, honest enough, clear enough.... It will create a universe all its own through the migration and delivery in cold places like email and Yousendit. And on the end of those strange transmissions lie ears and a heart still wanting to be moved.

So I say, give your music away. Not all of it, but consider which song of yours at this moment is the ONE song you'd want anyone to hear. That's the song you should unlock the cage for. Be smart. Pay your rent. Work hard. Stay open and hopeful. Don't buy into subscriptions and donations and other silliness, If your songs are good enough they will speak for themselves. You should lean for life outside of your cult. People value what moves them. If you engage people, they will engage you. And eventually they will tell your story for you.

When we do our jobs, when we deliver on our promises, we're rewarded. I suggest that we understand that. Listeners, lovers of music, want artists that full fill their promise. And in return, they understand the reality of it. They will become patrons of your work. They'll come to your shows. They'll buy your t-shirts. They'll pass your music along with genuine heart and advocacy. Because even still, music is one of the few things that can connect, comfort and rile us in such a pure way. It has value because (watch out, this is gonna get redundant) when it has value, it has value. It's indefinable, scary and dangerous. The new world can't be bought. At least the halls of truly meaningful music cannot be bought. The Jonas Brothers and other drivel will always exist. It's brainwashing. It's bought and designed and sold and bought and re-invented and sold again. But the halls of the meaningful have to carve their own path, it has to exist ultimately based upon its merits and some collective willingness to understand or feel it. Those merits are cousins to magic, and it depends on its ability to confide something that everyone knows, but can't manage the words let alone a melody. That's the work of artists. You gotta be willing to release those songs like a bird into that great wide open. Cause you know, if you love something, set it free. If it never returns, it was never yours. If it returns to you, it's yours forever.