But I just kind of stay in one chord and sing verses and stuff. I’ve just made these cyclical folky records for years, which is fun, and I’m grateful to have done them. I feel like I went into a machine and I came out with a bald ponytail and now I’m a prog artist. It’s like the Stefan Urquelle of prog records. You know that episode of Family Matters where Steve Urkel goes in the machine and becomes cool? Let’s address the elephant in the room: Is Course In Fable actually a prog record? He also addresses the most burning topic on rock Twitter: whether the guy from Eve 6 has taken over his corner. “The music on this record is stuff I had always aspired to do, but I was still hiding behind influences, or just wasn’t tapping into any potential, and just going along with the motions,” he says.īetween the bird chirps earlier this week, Walker offers his thoughts on the new record and a whole lot more, including the tao of the used CD and how he’s worked to get sober. At the very least, it represents a major evolution for Walker, who prepared more for Course in Fable than he ever had for a solo album. The new album is quite possibly his best work to date. Opener “Striking Down Your Big Premiere” is pure AM Gold, while single “Axis Bent” stomps along like a long-lost Steely Dan hit, with Walker’s soaring, smooth voice beckoning the listener. But beyond all the heady music-nerd bait, Course in Fable finds a groove in ways his previous albums rarely did. Over seven songs-five of which stretch past five minutes-he and his bandmates shuffle through tempos and movements, often sounding like the world’s best working jazz-fusion group. Produced by John McEntire of the legendary Chicago post-rock outfit Tortoise, the album incorporates synthesizers and vibraphones seamlessly alongside Walker’s virtuosic playing. While the earlier release was folky, dronelike, and punctuated by lines like “It’s not very fun / Being a fun person,” Course in Fable is immediately vibrant and, well, fun. But mostly, he’s eager to talk about his new album out Friday, one that finds the troubadour exploring a new genre for him: prog fucking rock.Ĭourse in Fable, Walker’s fifth proper solo LP, offers a markedly different listening experience than Deafman Glance. (Come for the Sigur Rós fanfic, stay for the harsh truths about SXSW.) He’s also open, as willing to discuss his love for Dave Matthews Band as he is the plight of the pandemic-era musician. He’s extremely funny-something anyone who follows him on Twitter would expect. He speaks warmly throughout our hourlong conversation, alternating between gentle self-deprecating sarcasm and wide-eyed earnestness, all with a certain Midwestern charm. You can still get a really good lo mein there and stuff, but is it worth $1,400 a month? So I moved up here where it’s way cheaper. “I moved there so I could go see a killer show every night and play music with the coolest people in the world and do all the cool New York things.

“I was in New York City for a few years,” he says.

But before the pandemic shut down much of the music industry last year, Walker had never considered relocating to such a serene setting as Western Massachusetts. At this stage of his life, that opportunity for tranquility serves him well-he recently celebrated two years of sobriety, and he’s moved beyond the self-proclaimed “sad bastard” (yet strikingly beautiful) music that captivated the indie world with 2018’s Deafman Glance. The 31-year-old Chicago native and preternaturally gifted guitarist is speaking from his temporary home in Springfield, Massachusetts, where he has plenty of space and a lot of nature to take in. When I reach Ryley Walker by phone earlier this week, the first thing I notice is the sound of birds chirping. Content warning: This article discusses substance use and mental health.