Bill Ryder-Jones – Iechyd Da Review

Goodwill and positive wishes presented in the title of this piece from Bill Ryder-Jones get off on the right foot. At a time of year when so many are hoping to do the same, hearing the indie rock musician hold out hope for the best of times for himself and his listeners is heartwarming. Iechyd Da. A toast to the future and what better time to release such a statement than the quiet months of January, when people are trying their best to stick to resolutions or hold out hope for plans? Ryder-Jones has hit a delicate mark with this release and a tender, honest recollection through these thirteen offerings from the prolific musician is a real early-year treat.  

Genuine and heartfelt from the earliest moments, Iechyd Da brings out the best in its warm, deep and heavy mixture. Every instrument, somehow, is given clear prominence as the layers of I Know That It’s Like This (Baby) filter through. Acoustic beauties, sliding tenderness from a crooner who begins to pick up the pace midway through as he makes grand realisations in the lyrics. Sharp and exceptional work from Ryder-Jones should be no surprise but this is a new level of quality – frankly as good as Richard Hawley’s heyday. Tender heartbreaks on A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart pt. 3 are one of many clear indicators of how personal turmoil informs the next steps. Ryder-Jones finds himself at a loss throughout Iechyd Da as he lays tribute after tribute to lost loves and finds within it some hopeful salvation – his listeners can find it along the way too with these rising pianos and gentle, understanding acoustics.  

Forced independence filters through on the marching triumphs of We Don’t Need Them. Gaslight yourself to a better place. What a choice This Can’t Go On is, a brutal understanding of the need to move on. Wallow if you like, it will do no good for anyone. Iechyd Da wishes you all the best and it is full of those hurtful and uncomfortable truths for self-betterment, and the crystal-clear mixing, the piano thumps and thuds of backing vocals, almost like angels, on This Can’t Go On, are perplexing. Bowie-like echoes on …And the Sea… mark an inevitably lush midpoint, and Iechyd Da goes from strength to strength after. How Beautiful I Am is the next powerful shift, a piece which holds firm and has similar, charming characteristics to that of Daniel Knox’s chamber timbre.  

Ultimately the childish cries which surround the piano, closer to the end than the start of Iechyd Da, resemble some sense of innocence returning to replace the glut of dark days. It happens. The rift of loveless days inevitably comes to a close and you are hauled from the shadows with someone or something to latch to. If it happens again so be it, but for Ryder-Jones, the days of loneliness are endless. Thankfully for Anthony offers up this shift in tone – and Iechyd Da is as tender and well-plotted a narrative as it gets. Give in to it and there is hope within, and while it is not a lasting feeling, Ryder-Jones gives enough of a spectacle toward the end, allowing listeners to find their peace in a calm final track, Nos Da. Your old rules are not your definition, and Iechyd Da is as lovingly open as it gets.