
Put yourself in a smoky Chicago nightclub in 1997. The local scene is an eclectic batch of multitalented instrumentalists banding together as incestuous collectives and far-reaching genre-expanding megabands. And then you notice Ryan Rapsys, alone, stepping onstage with only a drum set, a vintage keyboard, and a simple sequencer. With two hands and two feet, he manages to accomplish what some bands can't do with a six-person lineup. You're not the only person stunned.
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My Ladies Can't Remember The Eighties
Press On
Bad Ascending
Gyrations
Fallout
Nick Is Ryan
Where's The B?
Oh You Ache
Newscast
Bought Then Sold
As Close To Cold
Apostolic
Wickedness
Shut It
Weekend
Do You Up
Honey, I'll Be Home By Suppertime
friend in common
Needle And Crate
Confirmation Of Suspicions
Su 10 #1
Cindy You Hate To Eat
Red, Blue, Yellow
Playboy
Broken Ground
New Dusk Policy
Two Basic Colors
Broken Gourd
Weatherbeaten
From an Unpublished Letter
The Sun Theme
Passport
Oiseaux
A Hundred Times and More
My Boatship
Island I'd Love to Live On
Koko
Nasal Evidence
Message From Touhy Bay
More To Your Liking
I Did Not Say Maybe Not
Little Warbles
Semi-Alert
Zebras Cold Training
Some Want To Slowly Die
Tools of Love
The Lakewood Burning Bad Boy
Countdown
Homodulations
The Baldwin Wipeout
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