We were lucky to catch up with Bear Ryan recently and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Bear, thanks for joining us today. Learning the craft is often a unique journey from every creative – we’d love to hear about your journey and if knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently to speed up the learning process.

On Writing / Musicianship / Performing: I am a self-taught artist – ie. writer, musician, and performer. In order to teach oneself, you have to maintain a feverish curiosity and willful determination. You also have to overcome a lot of self-doubt and perceived judgement by those with “formal” training.

Seeking out a Mentor would have sped up the process.

The most essential skill, in my opinion, when approaching anything creative, is to maintain a “Beginner’s Mindset” or the “Child’s Mind”. In other words, approach it completely open to possibility. The dexterity from practice comes through repetition. A command of language comes with practice. Engaging performance comes from observation and self-reflection. But keeping a child’s mind in the approach to art is the most critical. I believe it’s where originality comes from, as well as the joy of creating and the ability to pivot and be surprised by the unfolding.

As with most things, I have probably been my own biggest obstacle at every turn. Neglecting practice. Pressing pause on discipline. Self-doubt. I do think that sarcasm – while funny – is a creativity killer. So, I now stay very far away from it in all my meaningful endeavors.

Bear, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I am the accidental musician.

I am a musician and song writer who plays gritty country-blues with a story-telling bent. However, I did not sing or perform in front of anyone until I was 35 years old.

I have always been an Artist; labelled “the creative one” (aka “the weird one”) at a very young age. But, I did not think that I was particularly welcome to take part in music, because I did not receive lessons from an early age. I had developed a belief – as so many of us do – that music can only be made by the people who were lucky enough to be forced to endure piano lessons starting at age 5.

And so, I did everything I could to be around the music, without actually making it.

My first love was writing, and so I wrote. Feverishly. I wrote every day and without an “end game” in mind. I did not publish my work. I did not major in writing. I wrote because it came out of me. With the exception of the critiques from my high school Creative Writing teachers or the occasional poetry reading in public, my work did not see the light of day. (I will note that I LOVED the rush and gut punch of reading poetry on stage. I did not understand that it was my calling.)

In college, I studied Photography. I am a very visual person and it seemed like a way to write a concise poem through pictures. And, again, to be close to the music. I shot a lot of music photography and album covers, etc.

An avid music fan, I spent the next 10-15 years going to shows, all the while writing and taking photographs. I was at 2-3 shows a week. Sometimes more. Music was my life. I was “good” at music from that perspective. I had all the ablums. Knew all the words. I planned vacations around music destinations. My social circle revolved around music and I was friends with all the musicians. I never dreamed that I would become one.

It was not until I was 35 years old that… once again…. I was dating a musician. When you live in those social circles, it becomes who you partner up with. For the first time, a musician asked me to jam with him. Truth be told, I was kind of tricked into the whole deal.

My partner sat me down at a drum set and told me he was working on a new song. He asked me to play a simple beat. I argued that I had no idea how to play the drums. But he insisted and showed me how to count 1 and 3 with my left foot (I’m a southpaw, of course). He told me to hit the snare on the 2 and 4.

It was awkward at first but came to me pretty naturally. He said, “Good job. Now try this beat.”

We jammed a little and he said, “Cool. Now we’re in a band. Go write some lyrics.”

I thought he was joking, but something made me write a simple song. Then came the hard part. He said, “Cool. I like it. Now, sing.”

I was absolutely NOT going to sing for anyone. I’d been cut from my 4th grade choir try-outs and had become permanently convinced that I could not sing.

But, something made me do it. The poem I’d written had a certain cadence. I sang about 15 seconds of the song, probably less. I texted it to him. He loved it.

We performed 100 gigs in our first year and the rest is history, as they say.

The dude and I broke up. So did the band. But, I’ve been a singer and musician ever since and my world has completely changed. I have played clubs, festivals, and events of which I never could have dreamed. I have recorded in studios, toured the nation, been on radio shows, and collaborated with other artists.

It is my hope that when people hear my story that they are inspired to do “the thing” they have always wanted to do. It doesn’t mean they have to go Pro, leave their family, change their identity (although it does change) or leave their job (unless they want to). I want to spread the message that there are no rules and that the beliefs that we have formed over our lifetimes are often so limiting.

People thought I was having a nervous breakdown when I formed a band at 35 years old. But, if I had stopped in order to make others more comfortable, I would have missed out on the adventure of a lifetime… that continues to unfold.

It’s hard for me to stop and say that I am proud of myself for anything. That makes me uncomfortable. But, I reckon I AM proud of myself that I kept going. Sometimes it felt like trudging. Sometimes it felt like dragging myself on my stomach through a mine field. But sometimes it felt like surfing. Like flying.

I kept going when the relationship and band broke up. I overcame massive self doubt and formed a new, larger band. I kept going when there was no money. I kept going when my voice was tired and my hands hurt. I kept going after a global pandemic completely wiped out my gig and studio calendar.

What I hope people take away from my music is a swagger and sense of self-confidence. My genre of music is dominated by the male voice, but the fact that I am singing it from the female perspective seems to be refreshing for women and alluring for men. I want to include everyone in the journey of my story telling. And I want to be an example that we are ALL creative and can mold the lives we want.

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?

The pandemic threw a serious wrench in my music career. I was the founder and lead singer of a 5-piece rock-n-roll band in Austin, Texas called “Red On Yellow”. We had just recorded in studio and were gaining serious momentum both locally and nationally. The offers were getting better and better. The band was getting tighter and tighter.

And then, the world stopped.

With the pandemic and the shut-down, our gig calendar was erased and the out look was only growing worse for music. It was like watching dominoes fall in slow motion. That gig at the venue I’d been trying to play for years… cancelled. The big festival… cancelled. Gaging each band members comfort with returning to gigging or recording in studio was very uncomfortable for me. Some wanted to get back to it. Some didn’t. I didn’t want to force anything.

And then, people had to make moves as the situation looked more dire. The drummer moved out of state. The guitar player had to take a gig with a big touring act.

I let the plug pull itself and went inward.

And that’s when I decided to pivot. It was time for me to stop having a pitty party and learn how to play the damn guitar that was sitting in my corner, collecting dust. If I could play guitar, I could write songs without being at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. If I could play guitar, I could form a solo act.

And so, I spent the next year learning and writing. The year after that honing the songs and then dipping my toe back into the live performance game.

In year three I was back to recording in the studio and playing venues and festivals.

How did you put together the initial capital you needed to start your business?

My music career was founded on a tip jar, and not the one at the bar. I am a Barber by day (now part-time). I would squirrel away my cash tips to pay for studio time, guitars, amps, etc.

I sold everything around my house that wasn’t getting regular use. That fancy juicer? I met a lady in the parking lot of Bed Bath & Beyond and bid it farewell.

I literally had garage sales to get gas money for tour.

It took time, but as I refined my performance, I started to believe in it’s value. The pandemic actually helped me place more value on my music. It was simple supply and demand. When suddenly the supply was gone, I was able to see how much people missed live music. Supply was low. Demand was high. Value sky rocketed. Since then, I ask more for my performances and feel confident in doing so.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.bearsongs.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bear_ryan_music/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/littlebearsongs
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@bearryanmusic/videos

Image Credits
Crystal Glaze Photography