I hadn’t realized it had been so long since I had interviewed Matthew Ryan until I looked to see what he had done since the last time he submitted some A’s to my Q’s. The album he talked about being next for him — “a big and hopeful and majestic Philadelphia Irish Rock ’n’ Roll record” — was to become Matthew Ryan Vs. the Silver State. He also worked with some Wallflowers on the Dead Satellites project, and then recorded and issued an album that ran the gamut of his sound, from hushed ballads to angry, full-on rock.

For most artists, that would be the fruits of several years labor. For Ryan, it was less than three years. That’s not Robert Pollard-level prolific, but it’s pretty commendable; all the more so because of the quality of the work. I won’t declare that latest album, Dear Lover, his best, but only because I like all of his work so much that I’m hard-pressed to chose.

On it, he records nearly everything himself — though he works with DJ Preach on one track and has help on a few others — and has crafted a solid album that seems addressed to a former lover. It is heart-rending, brutal, beautiful and passionate, and it finds Ryan doing perhaps the best job yet of finding ways to offer a little something of everything he does well.

One thing he didn’t expect, it seems, is to find that the songs took on different emotional space for him when performed solo acoustic. So, seemingly wanting to do these new interpretations of the songs justice, he rerecorded the album, adding an additional track written with fellow singer-songwriter Thad Cockrell (where has he been since 2003′s wonderful Warmth and Beauty?) rounds out the set. It is the same batch of songs, but Ryan is right; these are different in more ways than sonic presentation.

Wherever his muse takes him, it is worth following Ryan to hear the results.

TIRBD: After some very hushed, intimate albums, you returned to rock with Vs. the Silver State. for the first time in a long time, you have an album now that really runs the gamut sonically. Was that dictated solely by the songs, or have you found a sonic comfort zone after some exploration?

MR: With songwriting and their eventual production, I’m always looking to define a feeling or trying to express a sensation, scene, moment or revelation. It’s like trying to put clothes on a specter. The songs ultimately dictate where they’re comfortable, so I follow my gut and try not to get in the way by presuming where they want to go. Dear Lover is essentially a soundtrack to the lyrics. There are some action scenes, and those songs required a little more physicality so to speak. Going forward, I just want to continue to follow the trail as purely as I can.

In explaining why you chose to record and release the acoustic version of Dear Lover, you said the acoustic versions were communicating a different intimacy from the released versions. Did the meanings change for you as well, and is one version a more valid representation of your intent than the other?

I essentially recorded the music for Dear Lover before I wrote the lyrics and melodies. Not all of it, but the majority of it. It was songwriting in reverse, the production and emotional weather came first. When I finished the record, I had to spend some time learning the songs. I was proud that minus all the cinema, they were sturdy. The songs spoke differently, they felt more rooted than I would have expected in the folk and punk traditions.

You proved with this album that you can basically go it alone with satisfying results. At the same time, you collaborate widely. The results clearly are different in those two scenarios, but I wonder if you set out looking for something specific and seek out a collaborator, or simply choose to work with someone and then let things progress organically.

Again, I just follow my gut. If there’s a chemistry, I’m interested in collaborating. I wish I had better time-management skills, because there’s a lot of collaborations waiting at the door for me to make time. There are a number of European DJs that have been reaching out because of my work with DJ Preach. There’s also been some interesting songwriting invites that have been offered lately. I’d like to do it all when I have the time.

Speaking of collaboration, what is the status of the Dead Satellites project with members of the Wallflowers?

Greg and I will be doing more but we’ve both been so busy this year. Our goal is to just release songs as they come. It’s a pure thing we’re doing, we have no expectations from it at all. Just a thing we entertain when the feeling is there.

“Shook Down” from the Dead Satellites was pointedly topical, a contrast from your more introspective, relationship-based lyrics. Is it harder to write one than the other?

Again, I’m just trying to follow a feeling. No song is “hard” to write when it’s coming from the right place. Socio-political songs and love songs are essentially the same thing. And they’re only really useful when they’re threaded directly to an honest humanity.

This album is out on yet another label, this time the Dear Future Collective, of which you appear to be a key part. Are you moving more toward having total control of your music, and has that worked the way you hoped and/or envisioned?

My partner and I started the DFC so that I won’t ever have to essentially ask some other entity for permission to be creative and share my work globally anymore. The technology is here to do this in a very green, streamlined and nimble fashion with very low over-head. I love the idea of labels, but until they offer a more equitable relationship with artists it makes no sense at all. It’s the music that attracts people to support it, great music creates its own advocacy. It’s humble and it’s hard work, but I’m very proud of what we’re doing.

You have been touring with John Hiatt, who has had a long career as a critically acclaimed artist with a rabid fan base who hasn’t experienced a ton of commercial success. Is it heartening to see him still at it, knowing that could be you 20 years from now? Has he given you any advice?

I don’t see it that way at all regarding Hiatt’s career. This is a guy that’s made a great living doing exactly what he wants to do and can still sit down at a restaurant and eat in peace. I’d be very satisfied and proud to be able to say that 20 or 30 years from now. It’s not a competition, all artists have their own reasons for doing this. But for some of us, fame is the furthest motivation on the map. As far as advice, we’ve talked a number of times, but above all, the obvious joy he clearly feels and projects when playing is all the advice I need.

In 1991, Unrest’s Imperial f.f.r.r. competed only with Pavement’s Slanted and Enchanted for time in my Walkman as I hoofed it between college classes. At the time, they were just two records — very, very good records, but not the epochal touchstones they would become. Slanted and Enchanted needs no introduction or defense; it has had as broad an influence on indie rock as anything before or since. Imperial, however, started small, stayed small and seems to have fallen off of the radar of all but the most clued-in music fans.

Perhaps this week’s announcement that the band will reform for a few shows to celebrate the 26th anniversary of its label, Teen Beat Records, will spark a bit of nostalgia and interest. The trio — Mark E. Robinson, Bridget Cross and Phil Krauth — will play six shows in July, all on the East Coast. They will be joined on the bill by Teen Beat bands past and present, ensuring it to be a heady bit of time travel for a bunch of people pushing 40 and beyond.

Unrest seemed poised for stardom — at least of the indie variety — with Imperial. The album is a near-perfect blend of manic pop (“Suki,” “Cherry Cream On”), somber, minimalistic sonic meditations (“Imperial,” “Isabel”) and something straddling the two ( “I Do Believe You’re Blushing,” “June”). Mark Robinson’s clean guitar lines and sugary, yelping vocals were the focal point, but the solid rhythm section of Cross and Krauth drove the songs when needed, and added tasteful coloring when not.

That sound was refined on Perfect Teeth, issued in conjunction with 4AD (and thus, with the benefit of some marketing push), an album that, while a bit of a drop-off in overall quality, contained some fantastic songs that expanded on what came before.

And then, nothing. Robinson (occasionally with Cross in tow) issued records under several different band names, but nothing came close to the brilliance of Imperial, and unlike Slanted and Enchanted, which seemed to grow in stature with every passing year, it seemed to fade away.

Its sound, however, remains. From the minimalist pop majesty of Spoon to the keening earnestness of a million indie-pop bands, one can trace a lifeline from Unrest to a wide swath of indiedom.

So, perhaps it is time for a revival. Spinning Imperial today for the first time in a couple of years, I find it holds up remarkably well. Here’s hoping Unrest’s short tour sparks interest not only in listeners, but in the band as well.

MP3: Unrest – Cherry, Cherry

If forced to choose, I would say the New Pornographers’ new album, Together, is probably the band’s second best. I can’t imagine anything besting the visceral rush of Electric Version, but this nestles nicely up against it at the top of the list by going in a completely different direction.

While Electric Version refined the template set out with the debut, Mass Romantic (doing so with better performances and stronger songs), the two subsequent discs seemed a bit adrift in search of similar cohesion. By the time of Challengers, the band’s fourth, things had become rather lackluster.

So, it was a pleasant surprise to hear a seemingly rejuvenated New Pornographers amping up the orchestration and sweetness to deliver its most cohesive album to date. A few guest stars like St. Vincent’s Annie Clark and Okkervil River’s Will Sheff are drawing ink, but it is the blending of the band’s established talents that elevates the album.

Here is a song-by-song breakdown:

1. Moves – This sounds like the kind of thing I wish Grizzly Bear would attempt (you know, pretty music with a heart) until Carl Newman’s instantly identifiable vocals come in. Some nice strings add a lot of color to the song. This is a pretty lead-off track that sets a nice tone.

2. Crash Years – Neko! More strings mirroring the bassline and a whistling solo, all on a base of manically strummed acoustic guitar. If people knock this album, they’ll likely do so for songs like this that are fairly straightforward. But this will reveal hidden depths upon repeat listens.

3.Your Hands (Together) – The opening burst of drums and power chords sounds like some sort of hair-metal romp, but Newman’s glee-club vocals quickly scotch the idea of any sort of NewPo melodic metal crossover. More Neko on background vocals, making her presence here more than on the entirety of Challengers (if I recall correctly… I haven’t dug that one out in more than a year).

4. Silver Jenny Dollar – Ugh. Dan Bejar. I know I’m in the minority here, but I can do without Bejar tracks on NewPo discs. He is a taste I have yet to acquire… though I must admit that this is pretty tame as far as Bejar songs go, meaning he fits better here than on other NewPo discs.

5. Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk – A playfully twee little tune that pairs Newman and Katherine Calder, complete with handclaps and walking bass. Calder’s vocals are the draw here.

6. My Shepherd – Another Neko track, a wistful slow burner with nice narrative lyrics. “If I’m honest you come to mind, but baby I’m not.” Annie Clark delivers a nice wonky guitar solo.

7. If You Can’t See My Mirrors – More Bejar, but again, this feels of a piece with the rest of the album. Much is made about the fact that his obtuse lyrics fit well with those of Newman, but it is the delivery that differs. Bejar wants you to know how clever he is, Newman almost seems as if he’d rather you didn’t notice.

8. Up in the Dark – Newman and Neko on a song that gets a bit lost simply because it’s a basic four-on-the-floor pop song. It’s an unintended slap to call this uneventful, because that’s true only in this context. Had it been the first MP3 released before the album, it would excite listeners drawn by Newman’s gift for melody and Case’s oft-soaring vocals.

9. Valkyrie in the Roller Disco – A sweet, mellow, piano-driven duet between Newman and Case. “Up in the Dark” simply can’t compete.

10. A Bite Out of My Bed – This must be where we find the Dap Kings. No one would accuse the New Pornographers of being funky, but this is a nice fit. It’s a rousing track on which the horns accent rather than detract.

11. Daughters of Sorrow – Still more Bejar. I guess that’s his typical allotment on an album, right? Nothing special until Case comes on in full-on belter mode, with swelling background vocals, horns and strings bringing up the rear. Bejar’s vocal is the least-appealing thing here. Without him, this would be a hell of a song.

12. We End Up Together – A quiet, contemplative way to end the album, with Newman taking the lead. Oddly enough, though I see Newman as the clear band leader as usual, he doesn’t dominate things the way I would have expected (or usually would like). That’s not bad this time out; Bejar wasn’t insufferable. In fact, Bejar’s last track would have been a better tune to end on. While this has its moments, it is overlong and doesn’t have a payoff that makes it worth the investment. At nearly 6 minutes, it aspires to epic status but falls short.

If only they had been this popular in the early 1970s, maybe the radio airwaves would be filled with the sound of Big Star clones rather than the watered-down sub-BTO and Foghat that the likes of Nickelback use to pollute our ears. Impossible, of course, but a fella can dream. Soon, it seems, a fella can also share his love of Big Star thanks to the forthcoming film, “Nothing Can Hurt Me.”

The producers issued a call through Kickstarter.com asking for pledges of support, and in less than 24 hours, they had raised the modest sum of $6,000 and more. At the moment, the total stands at $9,480 from 100 people, including some pledges as high as $2,000.

If you want proof of the validity and value of the project, a 9-minute trailer at the site offers it. While the movie is billed as “the Big Star story that will trace the origins and history of the legendary band,” the clip on Kickstarter.com deals more with rehearsals for the impromptu tribute show put together at South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, in the wake of Alex Chilton’s death. That alone is compelling, so the rest of the film ought to be quite a treat for fans.

Most impressive: the filmmakers have enlisted John Fry, the Ardent Studios founder who oversaw the recording of Big Star’s three albums, as music supervisor and executive producer.

It’s fitting, of course, that Chilton isn’t around for any of this. He never seemed interested in revisiting Big Star unless there was a paycheck involved, as it was clear that music didn’t do much for him any more. So, just when interest in the band has reached a relative fever pitch, he doesn’t need to fend it off any more. A movie, tribute concerts, a boxed set… I’m sure it would have all been too much.

But for fans, there has never been a better time. It is bittersweet — there is no more Big Star music to be discovered, but perhaps those who have been missing out will finally discover what the rest of us have long known.

You would think I’d have learned by now that making assumptions without further investigation can keep one from experiencing the sweeter things in life. Another example of my musical myopia can be found in the person of Carrie Rodriguez.

When her new disc, Love & Circumstance, showed up in the mailbox, I (foolishly, it seems) let it quickly work its way to the bottom of the to-be-listened-to pile. I mean, she was the eye candy side player to Chip Taylor, a marginal folk singer with the 40-year-old hit “Wild Thing” under his belt, right? What could she offer?

I’m glad this disc finally fought it’s way to the top of that pile. It’s the most pleasant surprise of this short year to date. This is a collection of very good songs performed very well.  That might sound like damning praise, but it’s not meant to be; how many albums can boast as much? Rodriguez is known as a fiddle playing singer, but she plays the instrument on only two of the 12 tracks here, clearly focusing on her singing this time out. I can’t vouch for what might have been lost, but it seems like a wise choice. Her dusky voice is a nice complement to Lee Townsend’s atmospheric production and the tastefully airy arrangements.

Let’s get back to the first part of that earlier description: very good songs. I’m a huge Nick Lowe fan, so I’ve fully absorbed his back catalog, including the lone disappointing disc from Little Village, his “supergroup” with John Hiatt, Jim Keltner and Ry Cooder. So, I was surprised that Rodriguez’s cover of that album’s “Big Love” was nearly over before I recognized it. She had slowed it down and injected a bit of longing that was missing from the original. Finding the lost gem in a middling song is a talent, and Rodriguez has it.

She also has an ear for quality songs that fit her style. Tunes by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch, Richard Thompson,  Lucinda Williams and Townes Van Zandt all are standouts here. It doesn’t hurt that she is occasionally backed by the likes of Greg Leisz, Buddy Miller and Bill Frisell, but her regular backing group isn’t content to take the back seat, offering sympathetic performances that ground the songs and allow Rodriguez’s vocals to fit comfortably in the arrangement while offering a clear focal point.

The quality of this disc makes it clear that I now must go back and listen to Rodriguez’s two previous solo albums. And given how wrong my assumptions were on this count, I probably need to go check out Taylor, too.