RHyS—Music I've Met but Never Heard
step by step guide on imaginary friends
An old friend came into my apartment thirty seconds into the song. And then I said yay play time.
RHyS' music does exactly what music should do—it shows me someone. It draws silhouettes in my head from people of my upbringing with the intimate details and mannerisms that otherwise take a generation to learn.
Who RHyS let in the door with his bantering, genre-bending songs and how accurately they represent him isn't what to hold up. The fact that he has delivered me such a clear image bears the significance. It's evident in his sound: he has mined the composition, the strain of his vocals, his direction, and decision-making from a place within, a place uniquely his. And when I listen to his music I hear a stylus playing on his fingerprint.
Now, onto knock knock who RHyS’ melody drew at the door:
In walks a big banter guy, not a big talker guy. He will stay as long as the banter stays light guy.
He doesn't come over just to chat. He needs something, equipment probably. A ripper of sorts, he is a skateboarder or a surfer or pick your activity. I chose skating.
He-guy broke up with his girlfriend for asking why he skates so much. Not in that moment, but it was the catalyst. He doesn't really answer questions, at least not literal ones. And if you have to ask him why, you break his poor-guy-heart.
At the skatepark, he is quiet, calculated, and witty. He spends twice as much time intensely staring at a ramp or rail as he does riding it. And his riding style, too, is calculated. There are no wasted movements. It's closer to a dance than a trick. He's not performative—it's just obvious the amount of time he has spent with his craft, and it's obvious he carries an unequivocal mastery.
And then this song comes on and my apartment turns into a skatepark and I see his style with clarity and watch as he skates an entire run while I play with the threads on my throw pillow. He carves unique, fresh lines that would teeter on erraticism if it weren't for his command and control. He(the song) flips, bends, and goes to unexpected places, lending more weight to his guarded disposition.
People like to take that guarded disposition and slap mystery on my skater guy not a big talker guy. He’s enticing because everything he does traces familiarity. But he never gives in, never falls into what your eyes long to see or what your ears expect to hear. So people can be forgiven when wanting to solve the riddle of him with a question, even knowing he won’t answer.
And please don’t misunderstand my imaginary guy—he doesn't answer the questions because of his lack of depth but because of his tongue's ineptitude and lack of bandwidth. The answer to why he skates so much and why he makes his music lies in his actions and work. Through his skating style, his tricks, and his melodies and riffs, he articulates his complexities more accurately. And if you have to ask him why, you either lack the depth to see it, or he has failed in his communication.
Eventually, DJ Sally Shuffle runs through all of RHyS’ songs and puts on some Black Marble, making my apartment homey again. And I’m alone again.
I have no idea, nor do I care if RHyS resembles or has any of these characteristics. My projection more conveys the degree to which RHyS, through an honest and brave reflection from within, has successfully said something. His music says something. And that is rare. And because of it, wherever RHyS may be, whoever he may be, I feel connected. And that, here, at the very least, will be celebrated.
**at the time of writing this, RHyS has twenty-one monthly listeners on his spotify, and I have zero people who subscribe to my writing. maybe me feeling connected pulses through both of us shouting our complexities into the void. ily. H.A.G.S.