Ryan Beatty’s Calico and the bravery of brevity.
Queue Calico and let the sunlight dry your tears. Ryan Beatty’s quiet vulnerability makes Calico a powerful reminder that love comes after loneliness.
I debated writing this article for a while, hoping I could gatekeep one of my favorite artists for just a little longer. But when you have four songwriting credits on one of the biggest music multihyphenates of all time, this feat seems futile. When Beatty posted about his involvement in some of the songwriting for COWBOY CARTER, this was not only a win for the Hive in me, but also a win for my high school self that has been listening to Beatty since 2017. His songwriting is undoubtedly getting more attention by the rest of the music world, for Beatty will also be accompanying Maggie Rogers and Noah Kahan on their 2024 North American tours and performing at numerous music festivals, such as Gov Ball and Lollapalooza. It is with this recent recognition that I must finally write a love letter to Calico, Beatty’s third studio album and most introspective project to date.
Calico further cemented Beatty as one of my all-time favorite artists and vocalists. Between hearing him live during his 2023 tour and watching his online live performances, Beatty’s angelic vocals have been a gift to me, both from the studio and on the stage. He never gives too much of himself away in his lyrics, yet vulnerability bleeds from all nine tracks on the album. But even outside of my long-time appreciation for Beatty as an artist, Calico is an undeniably beautiful record that demonstrates Beatty’s vulnerable exploration of love, loss, and loneliness, all painted with the sonic palette of a summer in the southwest.
Calico feels personally connected to the landscapes of California, Arizona, and Texas, for Beatty’s memories of summer in the southwest infuse his lyrics with genuine emotion. He’s often thinking about love alongside the “Sandpaper pastures/Quilted in calico cream,” or recalling “an Arizona pleasure with the wind.” Even if he has to concede to a solo realization that “You were right/Texas is hot at night,” he places himself with someone special alongside the vast, hot, dusty terrain of the southwest.
While Beatty has never been one to reveal too much about his personal life, the brevity of both the album and his lyrics hone in on his ruminations of love’s fleeting moments. Spanning only 33 minutes, his short lyrics feel all the more ephemeral, placing the listener in feelings that he wishes would last forever. He infuses his lyrics with tender memories of love on “Cinnamon Bread:” the tender remembrance of how “You hummed a little out of tune/And somehow you sounded cool” reflects on the past with a sweet endearment reserved for someone special. On “Bright Red,” he recalls “Glitter on my face/Scrеaming your name/Laughter evеrlasting.” Being the shortest song on the album, his gorgeous vocals transform his brief lyrics into a sun-soaked memory that you wish you were a part of.
Beatty has a knack for transforming lyrics into personal vignettes. But what makes these vignettes of the southwest feel so monumental for Calico is how this setting becomes embedded in his memories of love and heartbreak. The haziness of his loves makes him question where he is now. “Multiple Endings” seems to hit him the hardest with the reality that his past lover may have been asking more of him than he deserved:
So you pull me apart
And now you're making me answer
But I don't answer to you
I went through days
With multiple endings
Just to get through
Even with Beatty’s soft voice, there’s something sharp in the near rhyme of lyrics like “Boy, it's hard being you” followed by “Boy, it's hard being used.” A more subtle bite accompanies the imagery in “Bruises Off The Peach,” where Beatty touches on the flaws of his relationship and partner: “I cut all the bruises off the peach/Not as beautiful, but still as sweet.”
His reflections of the past result in the album’s bittersweet notion that love may potentially be a cycle of heartbreak that gets you to the same loneliness you started at. On “Hunter,” the album’s longest track, Beatty likens a hunter following a trail to himself following another’s lead in a relationship.This ultimately leads him back to his lonesome: “All roads lead to where I started/Every sunrise follows darkness/Every single mountain has its peak.” The twang of country guitars gives this song a similar rhythm to following your own southern trail, but Beatty remains unsure of where this trail really leads him.
The winding trail of “Hunter” puts him back on his own, positing that heartbreak may put you on a similar spiraling path. “Ribbons” hits the listener with this feeling at the start of the album: “suddenly you're older/Spinning the turnstile over and ovеr/Who's gonna hold you while you sleep?” Cycles guide much of the album, whether it’s an observation on the seasons changing or a realization that you’re changing with them.
Even with all of this, his regrets don’t necessarily come from these relationships. He’s honest about the fact that he would do them all over if he could. “Cinnamon Bread” depicts an infatuation with someone despite their past relationships, and “Andromeda” ignores someone’s faults to the point where Beatty recollects the haziness of being in love:
Twirling my hair
It's not everything I wished for
But I didn't care
I just liked having you there
The feeling of someone being with him was enough to ignore the flaws of the relationship. The bridge of “White Teeth,” really hones in on what he would do differently. Not only is it an incredible demonstration of his vocal ability, but it begins to show his acceptance of past heartbreaks:
If I could stretch these hours into a lifetime
Well, I would stretch these arms
And do it at the right time, I would
In spirit you were there, well maybe next time
Careful with your words, won't let it slide by
Candy in your cheek, sweet goodbye
His lyrics are tinged with regret, imbued with the budding acceptance of the way things were. This comes full circle on “Little Faith.” The last track of the album feels like one of closure, ambivalently touching on his own mental health against the album’s backdrop of love and heartbreak. The song’s title evokes religion and his own family’s connection to Christianity, creating an interesting blend of mental health and religion in a track about having enough faith in yourself to move forward. He draws upon the support of his friends and family, and the role that love has in changing for the better. He reflects that “I didn't think I'd want to be here/But something told me I should stay.” It’s daunting to change and move forward, but it’s also for the better.
But moving forward doesn’t have to erase these memories. He still holds on to these moments, the lyrical vignettes that make Calico special, but with the realization that this isn’t all he should hold on to. Even in the album’s saddest moments of loneliness and brutal recollections of heartbreak, Beatty’s vulnerability leads him to a place of acceptance. This vulnerability shapes Calico, and his sheer gratitude to the musicians that supported him both on the album’s production and the live performances.
The lead single “Ribbons” was guided by the proverb that “It's brave to bе nothing to no one at all,” and this phrase guides the listener throughout Calico. Ryan Beatty shows us there is bravery in brevity, and love to be found after loss. The last lyric of Calico reminds us to “have a little faith” in ourselves; when the night is over, the sunlight can dry our tears.
edited by Sydney Cook.
album artwork believed to belong to either the publisher of the work or the artist.
