Second to Mary

by Ryan Sobb

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about

Ryan Sobb is a young songwriter with a weathered heart and soul beyond his years. Sobb has been playing music for six years, initially playing guitar in a number of projects that blended covers with original songwriting. He first cut his teeth in a band called Open Heart Experiment, a group he formed with close high school friends in Barrington, Illinois

The EP Second to Mary is Sobb at his best, utilizing influences from classic rock and alt-country to form a musical vision all his own.

Every song has a story and a myriad of influences from Sobb's life. He cites his mother's struggle with Multiple Sclerosis and the challenges this brought on his family as an emotional well he tapped when creating these songs.

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credits

released September 4, 2012

AR003

Executive Producer: Kris Ward
Art Direction: Blake J. Graham

©Airspace Records, 2012
The Airspace Group
TheAirspace.net

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Airspace Records Chicago, Illinois

Airspace Records is an independent music label under The Airspace Group

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Track Name: Are You Insured
Time will fill the gap in my teeth
with sand.
Fossilize every smile, every song
with every band.
Time will fill the gap in my teeth
with sand.
Fossilize every smile, every song
with every band.

[Harmonic Uprising of the privileged youth of America and its partners]

I will sauter my cause and make it stick
this year.
Hadn't it happened down South, it woulda happened
right here.
On the front porch of your neighbors
Everybody at church says you're a good neighbor
Track Name: I'm Not Tired
The fires burned
through our better half.
Ash to what was
and what will never be again.
And it made me cry to hear
it was over.
Made me red with shame to feel
the weight slip from my shoulders.

When hungry eyes have gone.
Along with everything that kept us keeping on.

I will tire then
I will tire then
I will tire
tire then.

We all still bend
the same foul line.
Lend our lips to crooked verse
in the promise of precious time.
And I suppose that their machines
run dry this place.
Left blood under my nails,
same shade streaked across my face.
Track Name: Steve McQueen Goes to Lake Michigan
It ain't fair the way you look at me.
Your eyes are softer now then they used to be.
Well baby maybe you may want to dance.
And with legs like mine
and eyes like yours it be a shame
no to take a chance.

To mean things true.
Baby, I could get to knowing you.
And your mama, oh, she may have been right.
There'll come a night.

Stuck in the dead end town
with the same dead end folks.
Sitting at the same seat,
telling the same goddam jokes.
Well baby maybe you may want to dance.
And with legs like mine
and eyes like yours it be a shame
no to take a chance.
Track Name: Winslow
As far as I'm concerned,
this is the last place there will ever be.
This town is a hole that wont be filled,
by mores of you and me.
And I will not fore sake these whispers
to the shallow night.
The yellow moon hands over our highway,
lonely sister to my headlights.

And it may as well been Winslow
or some other God-less place.
And it's just as well that I'm leaving
weathers getting cold anyway.

With one oar in the water,
and one eye on the shore.
How's it any wonder I'm still headed
for where I was headed for.
And the whispers, of old timers
build verse throughout my head.
And the farewell of a girl I knew
rides shotgun on my back.

Sometimes I still see you in
recesses of my coffee cup.
When the rain comes down
and the morning gives way
to a day without the sun.
Is it me who had to fail, or us who have to be
cause there is no both there is only words
the ghost of in between.
Track Name: What's Mine
The uniform grimace makes it hard to distinct,
between husbands and fathers in our precinct.
They bend and shake in the wind like the tail of a kite.

Ya, it's a far away land in the mouths of reports.
Apathetic "I'm sorry"s "We always follow orders".
I heard they found a body on 12 last night.

And will they ask me if I done my best.
God's great mercy, haven't felt it yet.
Slither through the pews to find a right.
To ask the Deacon what's yours and what's mine.

I guess that's what you get, for the price of privilege.
You get a filled green bag, and a note from the village,
saying "I guess things weren't as good as we thought."

Now there's a hazed out sun, the sound of tearing dirt.
Nobody gets redemption, nobody gets hurt.
And Lou Reed's "Pale Blue Eyes" fills us all.

And will they ask me if I done my best.
God's great mercy, haven't felt it yet.
Slither through the pews to find a right.
To ask the Deacon what's yours and what's mine.