The Rye

There was a time when men were men and music was roared not
whispered; a time when 'windswept' and 'artistic' went hand in hand
with 'belligerent' and 'psychotic'; when the catatonic state was
merely a pastime and alcohol was inhaled not for pleasure but
survival; a time before chicken rolls, skinny jeans, the wheel.
It is these times THE RYE evoke; nay,create anew. The Rye- a
quadrupedal semi-musical beast stitched together from all four corners
of the known island, a tune-spluttering troglodyte of the damp and
depraved innards of a crumbling Galway City- is an elemental force
akin to a brain-damaged pensioner's wit.
Unbridled, red-raw and half-oiled. Made up of Kevin on
howling, winking and acoustic divilry, Cian on five-course
banjo, lead guitar and pints of liver, Barry on grinning
between bass and tenor banjo, and the ginger Dessie on
animalistic unprovoked drum-battering, The Rye is a folk heroine's
sopping wet reoccurring dream.
Rife with an idiosyncratic charisma, The Rye pay homage to both the
whiskey-stained barflies of Southern old-time good-timery and the
toothless gin-soaked grimaces of traditional Irish yarn-spinners in
equal measures, poured into the broken glasses in the hands and
beneath the feet of those who are enlightened.
The Rye- the physical embodiment of grand craic for want of an
evening, all twelve tribes rolled into one, the Proper Job.



"No one embodies the spirit of Jerry Garcia quite like the Rye, my new favorite band. They are on this disc with 'Big Dip,' a fiery instrumental jam against a stomping beat and wicked acoustic licks." (Mike Farragher, Celtic Pulse)



View THE RYE's EPK