It hasn\u2019t been an easy 18 months for the world of music.<\/p>\n
From the likes of Tom Petty<\/strong> \u00e0 Chuck Berry<\/strong>, to Chris Cornell<\/a><\/strong> et Chester Bennington<\/a><\/strong>, and the recent tragic news of Scott Hutchison<\/strong>, the last 18 months have been an example of loss and of losing those who have gone far too soon. The amazing display of tribute across the globe, from some of the most influential names in music throughout recent generations, has been something beautiful to witness despite the pain that walks hand in hand with it. If it wasn\u2019t Bennington<\/strong>\u2019s poignant, heartbroken delivery of Leonard Cohen<\/strong>\u2019s iconic \u2018Hallelujah\u2019 in the face of the loss of Cornell<\/strong>, then it was the equally heart-breaking group tribute Celebrate Life<\/em> show for Bennington<\/strong> himself. And amongst those tributes was, of course, Cl\u00e9 de Ryan<\/strong>.<\/p>\n With the tenth and final Carton jaune<\/strong> studio effort, an appropriately self-titled album, acting as the 2016 swan song for one of the most distinctive pop punk bands of the last two decades, it was easy as a listener to also take the chance to reflect on time passed throughout those years and ponder on past choices. After all, lead single \u2018Rest in Peace\u2019 does this accurately enough; \u201cIf you could go back now, would you say it differently?\u201d <\/em>As a follower of any group, you often don\u2019t want to see the final chapter in the story, but it can also be exciting to see what comes next. Indeed, the closure of the band led comfortably into a continued period of production work and acoustic performances for frontman Ryan<\/strong> Cl\u00e9<\/strong>, largely spent building The Lone Tree Recordings<\/strong> studio and contributing to the latest Like Torches <\/strong>album, until eventually paying respect through the tribute performance of Linkin Park<\/a><\/strong>\u2019s \u2018Shadow of the Day\u2019. This was later followed up with Cl\u00e9 <\/strong>debuting the gentle, melancholic track \u2018Live On\u2019 during a live performance, a track written in reflection of Bennington<\/strong>\u2019s legacy.<\/p>\n Cl\u00e9 de Ryan<\/strong>\u2019s debut solo EP, TREIZE<\/em>, sees the musician writing primarily in reflection (recently re-embracing his hereditary first name \u201cWilliam<\/strong>\u201d (taken from his grandfather)) and explaining the EP\u2019s title which refers to personal difficulties throughout 2013. Indeed, when opening track \u2018Old Friends\u2019 begins, with softly played acoustic guitar and soothing ambiance that lingers gently in the background, Cl\u00e9<\/strong>\u2019s opening sentiment \u201cin 1999 I was first learning to sin, cranked up and hit the road to grind some gears again\u201d <\/em>immediately shows exactly the kind of record this is going to be; it\u2019s a far more mature statement that Cl\u00e9 de William Ryan<\/a><\/strong> is looking to make, with \u2018Old Friends\u2019 displaying a weary look back on the mistakes of youth and introspectively exploring a brand new identity musically. Sure, second track \u2018Vultures\u2019 may retain the slightest hint of what Carton jaune<\/strong> used to represent stylistically, but this is a song far more akin to the likes of Linkin Park<\/strong>\u2019s \u2018Sharp Edges\u2019, as opposed to the energetic pop punk tones of Ocean Avenue<\/em>, a lively acoustic riff driving the instrumental side of things while Cl\u00e9<\/strong> contemplates quietly, \u201cis it better to have had or to have not?\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n And, as the EP continues, Cl\u00e9 de William Ryan<\/strong> stays true to his chosen course; TREIZE<\/em> remains for the entirety of its duration a quiet, brooding meditation on Cl\u00e9<\/strong>\u2019s catharsis, with \u2018Thirty Days\u2019 softly navigating the pursuit and loss of a personal relationship, while \u2018Form and Figure\u2019 lightly echoes the gorgeous atmospherics of the likes of Ben Howard<\/a><\/strong>, avec Cl\u00e9 <\/strong>pondering \u201chow do I get right, color my eyes white again?\u201d<\/em> While stylistically much of the EP remains in very similar territory, it\u2019s the tender, open-hearted reflections of the lyrical content that ends up being so wonderfully captivating here, as Cl\u00e9<\/strong> draws the listener in perfectly, crooning with ease throughout TREIZE<\/em>.<\/p>\n Finalement, TREIZE<\/em> is a body of work that benefits beautifully from the past, with Cl\u00e9<\/strong> bearing the weight of it all lyrically and yet still displaying a continual desire to pursue the better and beyond. The lingering influence of personal struggles throughout 2013, rediscovering his identity musically, and the recent loss of those, both influential to Cl\u00e9<\/strong> himself and the rest of the world, have all clearly played their part in the writing of this particular chapter in the journey. It hasn\u2019t always been easy and it hasn\u2019t always been fair, but TREIZE<\/em> stares it all in the face admirably, and perhaps \u2018Great Unknown\u2019 says it best in a haunting sentiment of acceptance: \u201cfunny how time doesn\u2019t care, who we love and who we wish we could repair.\u201d<\/em><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"