Matthew Ryan cresceu no sul da Filadélfia em Chester, PA. Ele recentemente comprou uma casa em um morro no Tennessee. Seus primeiros amores e influências eram The Clash, Doc Martens, The Replacenments, MLK, Paul Buchanan's voice, Blond hir & Bob Dylan.Ele aprendeu a tocar guitarra quando ele tinha 17. Frustrado ele não podia aprender outras canções do povo, começou logo após a escrever a sua própria. Suas músicas tendem a ser sobre as mulheres
¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE--------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the# #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research.# #-----------------------------------------------------------------------------#
From: [email protected] (by way of cal woods) Subject: CRD: r/ryan_matthew/chrome.crd (fwd) Date: Mon, 23 Feb 1998 21:57:11 -0500 (EST)
words and music by Matthew Ryan from the album MAYDAY (A&M records) (transcribed by Harris Finkelstein)
CHROME
(capo on 3rd fret)
intro: GCGG (2x)
GCG It's not the things that I can't change, that bother me
CG It's not the things that I don't know, that undermine me
It's not the thing that I can't hold
G/F#EmD or the balancing wire that broke, that throws me
GCG It's not the fact that you walked out, that bewilders me
CG It's not the sleep that I can't steal, that wires me
It's not the coffee or the pills
G/F#EmD it's not this space that I can't fill that kills me
CHORUS:
CG We'll in case you didn't know I've got a heart made of chrome
EmD It's been bent 'til it was twisted
CG And in case you didn't know I've got a heart made of chrome
EmD It's been burned, but it's still willing to try
C And shine (and shine[second chorus])
GCGG (2x)
It's not the drunks and their devices, that provoke me It's not the politics of love and distance, and all that that shit evokes in me It's not the Sunday morning fights or this soul on ice, that numbs me It's not the passing of another Indian summer, that saddens me It's not the shutter in the undertow, that bears down on me It's not everything ending as it began or the loneliness that grins that destroys me