Artist: David Ramirez
Album: We're Not Going Anywhere
Bitrate: 227kbps avg
Quality: EAC Secure Mode / LAME 3.98.4 / -V0 / 44.100Khz
Label: Thirty Tigers
Genre: Indie
Size: 67.60 megs
PlayTime: 0h 39min 23sec total
Rip Date: 2017-12-02
Store Date: 2017-09-07
Track List:
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01. Twins 3:38
02. Watching From A Distance 4:19
03. People Call Who They Wanna Talk 3:30
To
04. Time 4:48
05. Good Heart 3:19
06. Stone Age 5:06
07. Telephone Lovers 3:34
08. Villain 3:41
09. Eliza Jane 3:24
10. I'm Not Going Anywhere 4:04
Release Notes:
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David Ramirez wears his Mexican-American heritage proudly on his
defiantly-titled, Thirty Tigers debut We're Not Going Anywhere. "Being half
white and half Mexican has made this current political climate especially
interesting," he says. "So many cultures in this country are being viewed as
un-American, and it breaks my heart. My family has raised children here, created
successful businesses here, and are proud to be a part of this country. Most of
what I've seen as of late is misplaced fear. I wanted to write about that fear
and how, instead of benefiting us, it sends us spiraling out control." Refusing
to be a target of someone else's paranoia and prejudice, Ramirez mixes
philosophy and provocation throughout this fine collection of songs.
The first words of "Twins", the album's opener, are "Where were you when we lost
the twins? / Where were you when the fear set in?". Rather than a chorus there
follows a simple, sad refrain: "There she goes. Goodbye America." Ramirez sees
our country descending into a tailspin, its citizens -- drunk on willful
self-deception and paranoia -- willing to compromise every principle in the
service of isolationist patriotism, and he has undoubtedly found himself the
subject of prejudicial ire. "Give me a dirty look scream till you're blue in the
face", he sings in "People Call Who They Want to Talk To", "Throw punches and
tell me you hate me I'll handle it all with grace." There is no questioning the
source of this anger and will to violence, as he sings later, in "Stoneage":
"I'm having trouble seeing colors in the dawn's early light / No more red, no
more blue: all I'm seein' is white." His response to all this is simple, somber,
and defiant: presence as a revolutionary act. On the album's closing song, he
declares "I'm not going anywhere / You can bury me in the ground or spread my
ashes I don't care / I'm not going anywhere."
A spirit of righteous anger infuses many of these songs but doesn't overtake the
album. If Ramirez betrays a political perspective here, it is beyond the simple
labels we throw at each other. Ramirez is a humanist above all, and his
expressions of this viewpoint extend beyond the social and into the individual.
He treats conflicts of the head and the heart with equal aplomb. The
bittersweet, beautiful "Time" masterfully captures the slow march into necessary
conformity that is aging: "Who wants to grab a drink tonight? / I know, I know,
it's only Tuesday, and you got work tomorrow. / Who wants to come to my place
after the bars close? / I know, you got the kids and can't wake up hungover."
Time is the only thing we possess, yet it ultimately will destroy everything we
value, from our leisure to those we sacrifice that leisure for.
The album's lead single, "Watching From a Distance", hauntingly captures the
lingering pain of loss in its opening lines: "Don't you dare think that I don't
think about you / Just 'cause we can't speak doesn't mean you're not on my mind
/ Like a ghost, like the moon, like a god, like the truth." So, too, "Telephone
Lovers" effectively portrays the damnation of separation, it's lamentations of
being "too far away" giving in to the resignation implicit in its closing
question, "What the hell are we thinking?" Ramirez proves a master of capturing
the contradictory politics of the heart.
This is the first of his albums that Ramirez has not self-produced; rather, Sam
Kassirer, who has helmed records for Josh Ritter, Elephant Revival, and Lake
Street Drive, helps Ramirez to expand his sound beyond his deep roots affinity
and to create a true band album. In particular, Matthew Wright's quivering organ
and synth playing evoke depth and melancholy amplified by Simon Page's sparse
yet moody guitar work. Both create space within the songs for Ramirez to fill
with his growing lyrical acumen and everyman's voice. These songs reach for
radio play without cloying for it, and they deserve to be heard.