Chris Lyons

A perfect companion piece to the recently released Silver Synthetic album from earlier in the year, this solo stint from the band’s Chris Lyons retains the Synthetics’ incomparable calm but scales back the studio bloom to something more akin to a ‘70s private press treasure. Where Rosalie was a crystalline collection studded with jazz touches and brass embellishments, Painters Street takes things back to basics; 16 in tape, one room, and the sound of a band bubbling together into AM gold. Lyons’ songs have the same low-slung sway to them that they have within his larger project, if anything, reclining even further into the speakers here. The record captures a kind of rumpled comfort, scuffed but never threadbare, familiar as an old denim jacket that’s seen you through charmed and chipped times.

For a record rooted in transition, it’s remarkably steady that way. Built around a groove that bobs along to the white lines out the window, the album reclines and relishes an unhurried pace. The jazz touches of Rosalie rear a bit of their head on “Long Gone,” but for the most part, this has it foothold in Canyon Country and Americana. Guitars sway like suede fringe, the bass lopes over the bumps in the road, and Lyons’ vocals lean back and pull their hat down into the sun. A chili is coming, or already here depending on where you’re located, but Painters Street offers a lingering ray of sun to stick you out through the Winter months ahead.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.