Okay, there's a good show coming up on Sunday at Plan B in Moncton, you gotta go to this one. "But Bob," I hear you moan. "I can't go out Sunday night, it's a school night, I have to get to bed early." Blah blah blah. That right there, my friend, is stinkin' thinkin', and you only live once. However, I do have another, better counter-argument. Who said anything about Sunday NIGHT? This show is happening in the afternoon, starting at 4 PM, so there you go, you'll be home for a late supper.

So now that that's settled, here's what you'll be seeing. It's the official Moncton launch for the latest release from Newfoundland's Sherry Ryan. It's her third, called Sister Of Mine, from one of the most interesting singer-songwriters in the region. Ryan is hard to categorize, with a broad mix of influences and styles that have come together into her own highly individual style. First off, she's from Newfoundland, but surprisingly, there's not that much of the province in her music, although you can hear it in her voice. Instead, her music is country, and folk, and sometimes blues. The major influence here is a southern feel, which Ryan picked up by working for a spell in the southern U.S. There are Blue Ridge mountains, all night trains, hints of old gospel, and a general antique feel.

Ryan works with producer and multi-instrumentalist Phil Sedore, who brings a ton of musical touches to the proceedings, via a whopping 22 different playing credits, from resonator guitar to organ to clarinet and trombone. This helps the music jump from genre to genre, whether it's the Klezmer of Burn My Journal, or the waltz-time of Don't Forget To Remember. About half-way through, that last tune turns Mexican as the accordion comes in, which somehow fits with all the rest of her shifting numbers.

I guess I shouldn't have dismissed the Newfoundland element so quickly, as there is also a strong undercurrent of the theme of leaving to several songs, physically or emotionally. Ryan's switch to untreated piano for some songs on this album helps put the parlour heartache into these songs, and her singing voice has a natural old-time drawl to it as well, again heightening this feeling we're stepping back at least a few decades. The closing track, Where The Wind Blows, is her final goodbye to us all, as the church organ chords and piano ripples send us out the door. She's going where the wind blows and the sun never shines, off to find some peace or answers, but she'll be back, hopefully cured of the wanderlust or aching heart.

Come to think of it, it's a perfect Sunday afternoon record. All the more reason to head to Plan B, or check out Sherry Ryan next time she's around.