Ryan Beatty Achieves Brilliance in the Isolation in ‘Calico’

Written by Sovhi Nwanokwale, Photo by Lucas Creighton

In order for Ryan Beatty to write Calico, he had to go away. There has always been pressure for artists to release music at a quick pace, but the expectation of activity in digital spaces has added to that pressure. Even so, early on in the writing process Beatty knew that in order to get these songs somewhere, he needed to leave the noise behind– at least for a little while. 

Beatty has grown up since his days on YouTube, where he rose to fame at just twelve years old for singing covers in his bedroom. Since 2018, the twenty-seven year old has released two full-length albums, Boy in Jeans and Dreaming of David, and was featured as lead vocalist on some of the most successful tracks off of BROCKHAMPTON and Tyler, the Creator projects. Known for his golden voice and pensive lyrics, there was no doubt that Beatty would create something as lasting as Calico, but as Zane Lowe of BBC Radio 1 put it best, fans had no idea that he would make something so timeless this early in his career. 

Where Boy in Jeans dealt with the complexity of being gay and a teenager, and Dreaming of David recognizes the cracks in a relationship gone wrong– Calico explores the devastation of being left with the memories of a relationship. With Ryan’s voice clear and production flowing mostly with light piano and guitar, and stacked harmony – the audience can hear how Calico pushes against the experimental pop that Beatty has previously worked within. With words so bearing leaving little to hide behind, listeners have no choice but to hear what Beatty is saying. 

In "Ribbons,” Beatty speaks about the sundrenched memories of falling in love, but then immediately comes to the importance of self preservation in love with “Bruises off the Peach.” He laments that though cutting people out makes us feel less whole and less beautiful, we are saving ourselves from early rot. He  follows with “Cinnamon Bread,” which speaks on the fear of loving someone who you know has hurt others and will more than likely hurt you. 

All of these songs are scarily self aware–fearful of losing something that is already gone. They are afraid of remembering, but they are even more afraid of forgetting their love. It’s rare when an artists declares a need for distance, and in that isolation that audiences feel drawn in to them.