The Warmth

by Ryan Jordan

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credits

released April 18, 2016

Music and Lyrics by Ryan Jordan

Ryan Jordan- Vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, mandolin, piano, keyboards, organ
Alex Trevino- Bass
Alex McGillivray- Drums
Austin Wells- Electric guitar
Kathleen Parks- Violin
Joya Graves- Vocals
Ryan Beke- Vocals

Produced by Ryan Jordan
Additional Production and Arranging by Alex Trevino, Alex McGillivray, and Ryan Beke
Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Will Holland, Chillhouse Studios, Boston, MA

Album Art by Ryan Jordan

Copyright © 2016 Ryan Jordan

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Ryan Jordan Boston, Massachusetts

Ryan Jordan is a singer-songwriter from the town of Clifton Park in upstate NY. From the age of six he has been honing his piano skills, and has been playing guitar and writing since high school. Jordan draws his influences from such artists as David Wilcox, Norah Jones, Fink, and Chris Thile. A Berklee graduate, Jordan now resides outside of Boston. ... more

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Track Name: Lincoln Ave
All my things are packed in boxes
Stacked along the walls
Of a room that’s getting smaller by the hour
I’ve emptied out my desk of
All my childhood memories
The days when we thought we were tall
From sitting on our mothers’ knees, now
All my things are packed in boxes
But I won’t forget where they came from

Because those old clothes ain’t my size
But that little kid’s alive, he’s just got older eyes
I keep singin' "oooh"
I play the part, but
When I’m in that house, you know
I’m right back at the start

What a funny way it is, I
Keep the strangest things
To remind myself of days when we were young
Baseball gloves and trading cards
Tattered, worn with age
Wishful thinking told me that they
Still my find a use someday, but
What a funny way it is
The way we think when we are young

Someday soon, these
Faces will be gone, just
Phantoms in a fog, but the
Houses stay the same, lined in
Perfect rows down Lincoln Avenue

But there’s a method that I’ve got to try
Though the youth inside my bones may wonder why
I’ll leave this place behind and store
The memory in my mind
A home to call my own is just the
Step to feeling a better kind of fine

Now all my things are packed in boxes
Stacked along the walls of a
Room that’s getting smaller by the hour
Track Name: Tumblin'
A hundred miles of dusty road
And this motor running just a little too loud
Cause life is catching up with me
So fast, I fear I'm close to run down
Sometimes the trip is more a
Tumble into mystery
I just have to believe my feet will
Take me where I wanna be

Oooh...
I'm running for it, come and
Catch me now before it gets too late

My home it wasn't all that grand
I'll miss the simple memories
The warmth of mama's apple pie
The taste of love, the smell of nicotine
But nothing compares to the taste
Of living right on the edge
But I'd rather keep my head
Don't care which circle of hell I'm off to

Not a soul can stop me now
This town won’t hold me down
I’m on the move

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