Ratboys’ sixth album, ‘Singin’ to an Empty Chair,’ is an exemplar of emotional honesty, a record that balances vulnerability and exuberance with a precision that few bands achieve after a decade of songwriting. From the opening lines of “Open Up,” Julia Steiner extends an invitation that feels both urgent and intimate: “What’s it gonna take to open up this time?” It’s a question that sets the tone for an album defined not by absence but by dialogue; the attempt to connect, reconcile, and navigate the spaces between people and within oneself.
This is Ratboys at their most introspective, yet the album radiates the lightness and effervescence that has long distinguished the Chicago-based four-piece. Recorded across multiple Midwest locations, from a secluded cabin in Wisconsin’s Driftless Area to Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio studio, the album carries the subtle imprint of each space. The result is a quilt of sounds and emotions, stitched together with care: some songs are intimate snapshots captured live, others are layered, meticulously crafted explorations of texture and mood. This approach mirrors the record’s central themes: piecing together fractured relationships, examining personal and familial complexities, and finding clarity in reflection.
Steiner’s lyrics are sharper and more vulnerable than ever. On “Just Want You to Know the Truth,” she confronts estrangement head-on, weaving a narrative that is both specific and universal: a conversation she wants to have, a bridge to be built across absence and misunderstanding. Dave Sagan’s guitar work is electric without being aggressive, swelling and looping in ways that accentuate the emotional stakes. Elsewhere, songs like “The World, So Madly” transform helplessness into power, pairing contemplative melodies with harmonies that lift rather than weigh down.
‘Singin’ to an Empty Chair’ also demonstrates Ratboys’ playful side. Tracks like “Anywhere” and “Penny in the Lake” showcase humor and warmth, balancing the album’s heavier emotional content with lightness and levity. The playful energy of these songs, a caffeinated nod to everyday absurdities, underscores the record’s conviction that life’s complexity is inseparable from its joy.
“Light Night Mountains All That,” a six-minute exploratory jam that stretches and folds time. Sagan’s experimental guitar tones against the animated drumming of Marcus Nuccio and steady but lively bass of Sean Neumann, highlight the band’s willingness to navigate unconventional song structures and signals a confidence earned through collaboration and trust. Ratboys’ chemistry, honed over more than a decade and countless tours, allows them to explore without losing cohesion; even their most exploratory tracks retain emotional clarity and narrative purpose.
The record’s arc is deliberate. It begins with an outreach into the void and closes with “At Peace in the Hundred Acre Wood,” a scene of tranquility and acceptance. Steiner’s vocals ride a gentle Hammond B3, the lyrics reconciling grief and joy, chaos and serenity. In this final track, Ratboys encapsulate the album’s ethos: acknowledging difficulty without succumbing to it, embracing connection while respecting absence, and finding hope within the flux of daily life.
In ‘Singin’ to an Empty Chair,’ Ratboys have created their most emotionally and musically sophisticated work to date. It is a record that asks questions without rushing toward answers, balancing melancholy with exuberance, and introspection with playfulness. Like a quilt, it wraps listeners in carefully chosen pieces of sound and sentiment, rewarding attention, reflection, and repeated listening. After ten years of growth and touring, this album stands as a statement of what Ratboys do best: capturing the complexity of human connection with heart, nuance, and joy.
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