Business of Dreams
Ripe for Anarchy
I have tried over and over again to pinpoint and isolate instances within Ripe For Anarchy and all it does is get me lost in Corey Cunningham’s ethereal pop songwriting. And then I am back to the beginning, listening intently to the album again and hoping to find something I can grab a hold of and dissect with persistence.
Then I realize Business of Dreams’ debut is not one to explore on a micro level but Cunningham’s work lies on a grandiose scale. Through heartache and sorrow emerges one of the more beautiful pop albums I have heard since Crushed Stars’ put out rainy day pop.
A few years back, Cunningham had to leave his work with Magic Bullets and Terry Malts to travel home and confront his father’s death. An overwhelming of emotions and a rush of memories led him to write Ripe For Anarchy. His coping mechanism became a glorious pop album that pushed him to stand out as a brilliant songsmith. The album does not sit with a band like Wooden Wand where vocals were scraped up from the gutter of despair. If you were not paying close attention, you would not recognize that this album was built on grief.
Business of Dreams – N.R.E.A.M.
“Chasing That Feeling” is pop buzz that focuses on the warmth of melancholic melody in the same way Aztec Camera focused on being distinguished. “Drink away your cares today. Tomorrow will be done.” I don’t know if that is autobiographical, observational, or prophetic, but Cunningham builds gentle persuasion to live life in the now. It’s philosophy that reoccurs throughout Ripe For Anarchy. Much like Galaxie 500’s parental advice of not letting your youth go to waste, Business of Dreams expands with “Don’t Let Our Time Expire.” It’s one of the more balladry pop songs he performs that bears semblance to The Smith’s “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.” Sans drums, it’s a serious sit down that conveys exactly what this album’s aura revolves around.
Turning Sparklehorses’ “The Hatchet Song” into an open-armed pop opus is brilliant. The simplistic chord arrangement and Cunningham’s comforting vocals make this song a true darling of the album.
It’s ironic that Cunningham ends the album with a Joy Division-esque post punk song and calls it “Keep The Blues Away.” But in the end, the song fits. Cunningham cannot portray despair, but he can change coldwave bass pulses into sincere contemplation. From the sounds of Ripe For Anarchy, he never did let his youth go to waste, but bottled it up just for the right moment. The anarchy in this album is him unleashing an unregulated amount of creativity that blooms with brilliance.