By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
Ryan's drummer wrote me last summer, finding community in a gripe I'd made concerning hard-rock bands manned with school-of-stumblebum guitarists. He wanted to know what happened to all the good stuff. But Blackout Money, along with everything else ever sent along from Ryan & Co., ably collects those things that made fine, big-guitar arena rock years ago: one good singer-songwriter, arrangements that marry smashing riff with melody, and a drummer who knows how to hip-swivel as well as point the finger at the guitar man when it's time for climactic rock action.
So though Chris Ryan and his buds play dives in Manhattan, Blackout Money is made for drive-time airwaves: They go from hot-blooded, to R.E.O./T.W.O, to even a little something of Jackson Browne's "Redneck Friend."
Chris Ryan plays the Continental June 24.