Collie Ryan blows the mind—in the ‘70s, she made it to Big Bend from San Francisco. She sought the middle of nowhere and found it—one of the hottest spots in the U.S. Here, she pursued trippy philosophies: “Does it really take time to be free of your mind?” She stopped time to figure it out, zooming in on a cityless reality where she grew wise, painting and talking to indians… Now she reemerges silver-haired with a busted guitar to rattle the cage.

[Read more →]

Back in 1973, Collie Ryan recorded three albumfuls of folk songs at once before retreating deep into the Texas desert. She’s squatted in an old bus along the Rio Grande ever since, spending her days painting mandalas on hubcaps. While she has no plans of dropping back into civilization, she will share her mystical observations about circles and sing us a song or two. This interview by Daiana Feuer.

[Read more →]

Oh, the weirdness of sounds. Some drink, some smoke, as the vibrations echo around our shoulders. By midnight, my friend has passed out from half a bottle of whiskey she opted for instead of a blanket. Later, after I have retreated to the car to sleep a while, my friend will appear at the window and say, “I just opened my eyes and I was the only person left on the grass. There’s still a sound playing from the stage. It’s 4:20 am and the whole place is empty. I think it’s real. But what if there was never anyone there?” And—this is without drugs—this is Tonalism.

[Read more →]