The world is full of talented people you’ve never heard of, and it’s quite possible that Ryan Scott is one of them. Around New York, if you know about Ryan Scott, then you know. “Ryan Scott?” Enough said. Funky? Oh yes. Soulful? Unquestionably. Prepared to surrender himself totally to the music and the moment at all times? Affirmative. 

But if you don’t know, it can be difficult to catch up. Ryan Scott doesn’t make it too easy to find him. He claims it’s not intentional. “You just have to know the right people,” he tells me. Indeed. 

Ryan spent years waiting for someone to throw him a bone before ultimately deciding that “there was no bone.” He worked as a sideman, session cat, songwriter for hire, wedding singer, “jazzy jazz jazz” player, and probably plenty more things that he still won’t mention. Eventually he decided to start saying no to the rent work and start saying yes to the muse. The good news is that he made a killer solo record, the bad news is that the rent might be late this month. 

He released his latest project, A Freak Grows In Brooklyn  earlier this year. He wrote, performed and recorded the project alone, almost entirely on an 8 track multitrack cassette recorder. He wanted to make an art project, a calling card, and a personal statement. He did all that, but he also made something very, very good. But, really, extremely good.

He says he spent years becoming a jazz musician so he could be free. Then he spent more years freeing himself from being a jazz musician. 

I like Ryan Scott and I think you should too. 

Here he talks about growing up the only child of a stock broker in northern California (“one of the least bluesy things”), crossing the “jazzy line”, “keeping things open”, moving to New York right out of high school and falling in with a crowd of itinerant musicians who taught him how to “roll cigarettes and drink beer”, and what it’s like inside his head. 

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