Himalayan Bear - ...Attacks The Brilliant Air
Soundsect.com

“There’s a dull sense of anticipation in the air. Two lovers’ eyes meet and they hold glances for what seems like an eternity, but is probably no more than a few seconds. In those precious moments, there’s a sense of worlds colliding. Such an innocent act could hold no value for most, but for these two, there’s almost something remarkably tangible about this gaze. There’s a certain lust there, that goes without saying, but somehow each can grasp something more. Somehow there is a shared understanding of what attraction compels them to one another, and the sheer joy they derive from each other’s company. Closing the distance between them, their lips meet.”

The last three and a half minutes of “A Light Grows Brighter” are kinda like that.

On his second album, The Himalayan Bear (aka Ryan Beattie) strips his songs to the barest of bones: most tracks are constructed of sparse guitars and charming rhythms that allow his falsetto to shine.

Upon repeated listens there are numerous standouts. “The Captain”, in particular, shows of Beattie’s ability to sing with remarkable appeal. It’s here that his timbre reaches the sort of passion with which Jeff Buckley crooned. The restrained churning of “Sounds Are Birds” shines at its finest when Beattie whispers, “Though there’s shelter in your love, there’s an ache in your head”. The deceivingly morbid “The City Wind” changes dynamics with a guile beauty few can pull off. Meanwhile, “Lo, Lonesome Island” (which is also the title of his first album) seems to pull discordant strings into a mesmerizing account of seaside procrastination.

However, Beattie’s finest moment comes six minutes into the second track, “A Light Grows Brighter”, when he utters, “I want to hear you for the first time again” before slyly picking up the pace and singing, “Lines they might stray/ But blood stays the same.” You’ll have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but you’ll think it’s gorgeous nonetheless.