AndreChrys_WindowToNowhere_CoverI throw a record on the pile, one after the other. Some are good. Some are my kind of thing. Some fall among the wayside and I leave them to the dust. Then some, I must say this one, swallow the dust of life and make it music.

Andre Chrys comes from Vancouver; just off the bus with many a year and many a tear. Anyone that has really lived carries life’s guitar on their back. Andre carries it and makes it tell his story. His voice is soul and gravel roads too often untraveled. Singer/songwriters are my wheel house. This man broke sunlight sober through my morning after window.

Window to Nowhere is his latest release. It is the song book of a man who has walked among the rain gutters and the love letter let-downs.

“Seems these days I really don’t do much. Bottles and the bills are piling up. Don’t answer the phone. Aint that brave.”

If it was a different time when labels and genres didn’t matter, then Andre would be among the balladeers. He harkens back to Orbison and Nelson. Willie that is. He delivers the bar soaked lines with soul and gravitas. Born thirty years before he could’ve walked with Kristofferson and Bobby McGee. You see, they told Kris to come back when he’d lived a little more. Andre has done that.

Window to Nowhere is an album I would buy. This I say in a day when no one does that. He knows when to pick it up and put it down. He gives you the old rhythm and blues like they were new. He is a gypsy soul taking a journey and waving us to board the bus. Kerouac spoke to reckless youth. Chrys speaks to a thirty-something who wonders what he’s done but knows what he feels. It comes from within.

The band that accompanies him is well assembled. His guitar acoustic hung shoulder followed by the eclectic electric backing is well balanced. His sound at times echoes an era long gone. He beckons like a ghost of a day gone by. Chrys does so well that you forget its an age of yesterday.

You can’t label him. He writes his songs. He sings them. That is all he will allow. This is where the music industry fails. There was once a time when the artist made music. Those days are unfortunately long gone. An artist like Andre Chrys should never be force fit like a square peg into a round hole. The game should be played so that he is a player. If there is one thing I could do with this review, I’d empower him. I would give him a voice so that he could write his own story. I pray that he is never mastered nor ensnared by the traps laid before. The writer tells the story; the story should never tell the writer.

We don’t get many times to find music that we feel. We remember a song or a time when we heard it. It is rare when it seems that someone could write our lives for us. It is though they have lived it with us.

Andre Chrys can do this.

The industry needs to shut up and listen.

So do we.

Follow Andre Chrys on Facebook.

Extended Plays is an ongoing music series written by myself and my partner Lizzy. We listen to music, go with our gut and spill our honest and sometimes brutal opinion all over this blog. We hope you take the time to check out the artists we review for yourselves. We tend to believe that we are always right about everything but the most beautiful thing about music is that our opinion doesn’t matter to anyone but ourselves.

 

 

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