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Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band
What does it mean when a musician is described as “literary”? Of course, such an adjective can be employed as a compliment, informing potential listeners that the performer understands the power of their words and takes the time to construct meaningful narratives in their songs. But the description can also signify a sort of neutered state, one where the fun often associated with music takes a back seat to capital “I” Ideas.
As New Threats from the Soul, the latest album from Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band, continues to make appearances on early “best of” lists for 2025, the word “literary” is often put on bandleader Davis. We want to make sense of this unique voice, so we place him in a lineage of other erudite singer-songwriters like David Berman and Jason Molina. Such comparisons, while understandable, do not do justice to the rambunctious spirit of the album. New Threats from the Soul is not only a fun record, but also a funny record. It is best to think of Davis as a sort of cultural vacuum, one intent on sucking up the detritus of 21st century America‚ and then emptying the bag to show us why we are who we are. Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band will perform Friday, Nov. 7 at Falcon Bowl.
Giddy Irreverence
Perhaps not surprisingly, New Threats from the Soul is informed by an almost giddy irreverence, one that has roots in Davis’s musical past. Before fronting the criminally underrated band State Champion, Davis grew up in the punk rock scene of Louisville. “I grew up skateboarding and listening to punk,” notes Davis, “and I think it’s forever in there. My brain was just malleable clay at that point. I think it really formed me into the person I am, even if I never make a ‘punk’ record again.” And while New Threats from the Soul does not sound like a punk record, the album is informed by a punk spirit (and in true D.I.Y. fashion, Davis continues to do the artwork for his releases). “I’ve always felt like a bit of an outsider,” continues Davis, “and not in a way I necessarily resent. I think that’s a lot of what formed me.”
There is little doubt that such a perspective informs Davis’s lyrics on the latest album. Throughout New Threats from the Soul, Davis develops an observational style of writing, as his status as outsider provides him with the space to see how the trivial details of day-to-day life can provide insight into universal truths. “I didn’t really even mean to go and park the Monte Carlo in the street,” he sings on “Monte Carlo/No Limits,” “And technically I just left it there when it crashed/Now I’m scared it’s there to last/For lately love has made a business out of you and me.”
Such subject matter, along with Davis’s country-informed vocal delivery, has led critics to attach another descriptor to New Threats from the Soul: “Americana.” When asked if this word means anything to him, Davis is blunt in his response: “No. I don’t think it does. That’s a word I don’t honestly know what it means.” For Davis, New Threats from the Soul is made up of “rock music”—nothing more, nothing less. I am inclined to take him at his word.
