The Only Emperor is the Emperor of Ice Cream
Pale Ramon and the crossroads of poetry, music, and nostalgia
I took a rock lyrics literature class one of the final semesters of my Masters’ Degree. My professor was a solid product of the 60s and 70s and bucked all institutional norms of the college classroom. She kicked her shoes off before class started and either sat cross-legged on her chair or kicked her feet up on the desk and taught lessons in a semi-dreamlike state. She smoked (cigarettes) indoors the entire class and cracked the windows only to prevent the smoke from going under the door and out into the hallway. She knew Jerry Garcia before he was with The Grateful Dead. She was moody, outrageous, passionate, and I loved her for it. I was so enamored with her I eventually became her graduate research assistant hunting down music in back alley thrift stores and record outlets — partly for class, but I’m sure largely to have a gopher search stacks for hours so she didn’t have to do it.
She taught me the depths of Dylan, the Dead, R.E.M., and Pink Floyd. She unlocked the beauty of the sweeping narrative and how it wasn’t simply reserved for novels, but transformed and created musically in single tracks and full albums. She unlocked politics and political messaging in otherwise seemingly flowery lyrics. She threw lists at me of “must-have” albums for my collection. She helped refocus elements of my thesis work on Jim Morrison.
Even after her passing, the fervency she instilled in me for music and the discovery of new, valuable musicianship is part of my daily life. And, for the most part, I can reserve airing my philosophical, musical rants to bar nights with other audiophiles and vinyl junkies. But there are also times where casual listenership collides with the nostalgia of that college classroom and becomes something personally monumental.
Discovering the music of Pale Ramon was once such time.
Artists and poets, Kevin Plessner and Emanuel Ayvas as Pale Ramon (a name inspired by a poem by Wallace Stevens) create sweeping soundscapes of personal mental journeys driven by infectious instrumentality and unmistakable vocals. While their sound is completely their own, the structure recalls the gentle musical narratives of Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin. Their message, formed by politics and the world around them, is accessible enough for any listener to have their own take on the meaning.
Their artistry is doubly apparent on their social media accounts. Especially in the case of Ayvas, who used the difficulties of the pandemic to create an abundance of music. He is currently releasing a track a week for the year under the various names and projects with which he is associated. “Annie”, Pale Ramon’s recently dropped sophomore album, was part of these releases.
The fluid, tenor vocals of Ayvas, overlaid with his synths and Plessner’s sweeping guitar cuts create an unmistakable listening experience. Every time I hear The Best Has Yet To Come from their 2019 Self-Titled EP, it’s like discovering their incredible music all over again. It was, in fact, this album and this song which drove me to have them on our podcast. Their honesty, intentionality, and drive on music creation, and ability to articulate how and why they create it has kept me as a fan.
Under normal circumstances, I work with The Collective weekly to establish a well-rounded playlist to capture the essence of the artist we are supporting, as well as provide insight into their musical influences or other great music in their genre. As luck would have it, Pale Ramon recently ran a playlist mix of tracks from “Annie” and musical influences. We recreated that playlist for you to vibe to and enjoy this weekend, or really whenever you want.
Once you go down the rabbit hole of this band’s portfolio, make sure you follow their social media accounts. They have been touring around performing in promotion of the new album. Maybe I’ll see you next year, in the audience, vibing along.
