When Max Dowman became the youngest goalscorer in Premier League history — and this is neither the time nor the place for one of those arguments with people who think football began in 1992 — the official Premier League twitter account asked: “What were you doing when you were 16 years and 87 days old?”
My answer was simple enough: listening to music, watching football and cricket. I’ve not really changed.
Let me tell you what I wasn’t doing at 18, though: releasing a brilliant record.
But then, I’m not Ty Myers.
The scary thing is, “Heavy On The Soul” is already his second record, and he wrote 11 of the songs on it. That alone is enough to make you feel like a chronic underachiever. Then you actually hear the thing and it gets worse, because this isn’t some kid with a bit of hype and a nice backstory. This is the real deal.
“Morning Comes” opens with soul dripping off every note. It is laid back, rich and assured, Myers’ deep voice carrying a country tinge while the song itself has the sort of easy swagger older artists spend years trying to fake. And when the payoff comes with “love ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,” you realise straight away this ain’t generic shit.
“Me Neither” keeps things cool, but there is something about the confidence of it all that is frankly absurd for someone his age. The arrangement just sits there, unbothered, knowing full well it has the song to carry it.
Likewise, “Pedestal” has an acoustic poise that I absolutely do not possess. It sounds self-assured without ever tipping into arrogance, and that balance is harder to pull off than people think.
“Don’t You Know” is both honky tonk-ready and blues-infused, and when he throws out “I ain’t ever let a woman take control of me,” you get the picture. You are not taming this boy any time soon.
There is heartbreak all over “Message to You,” and all kinds of trouble in the words too. For all the bravado elsewhere, this is a song that knows exactly where the bruises are.
“Run, Run, Run” is as classy as blues gets. You can hear Chicago in its bones, albeit dressed up with a little more shine, and while Myers’ self-belief is sky high, the song absolutely earns every bit of that strut.
“Game Called Love” sits right in the record’s sweet spot, all classy, soulful blues and real emotional weight. This feels like the hinterland of the album, the place where its confidence, feel and craft all meet.
It is seriously impressive how much life there is in these songs, and “Leaving Carolina” proves that again. There is a huge level of maturity in the sound, and those gospel-tinged backing vocals only underline it.
“Come On Over, Baby” suggests Ty Myers is, to put it bluntly, a horny young man. Fair enough. When I was 18 all I had was Belinda Carlisle videos. He, meanwhile, is writing songs with this much spark and chemistry.
“Woman” strips things back with an acoustic arrangement that allows his voice to really shine. And when your voice is this good, that is a very smart move.
The strings on “Through a Screen” give it real depth, even if nobody believes he is actually in bed by 8. There is something very modern about it too, this tale of online love.
The album’s one cover is Lowell George’s “Two Trains,” and with Marcus King alongside him it becomes a perfect pairing. The two of them occupy similar musical ground, and hearing them together feels completely natural.
There is a real sadness to “Southbound.” No tricks, no fuss, no unnecessary embellishment, just a song that lands exactly where it needs to and leaves a mark while it is there.
Marcus King also co-writes “Songs for You,” and for perhaps the first time on the record Myers sounds like he wants her to take him back. She might even be the one. It adds another shade to an album already full of them.
“Gone Too Long” has a downright filthy groove. He sounds like a road dog if ever there was one, and the throwaway line about only being happy on a rainy day is exactly the sort of detail that makes a song feel lived in rather than just written.
“Bad Guy” is funky, sassy and sexy, all wrapped around a story involving a married waitress and the killer line, “how many guys have been where I’ve been?” It has swagger to burn.
And then “Good Morning Paris” closes things out by proving these songs are anything but ephemeral. He gets to Paris alone, with a girl on his mind and loneliness on his lips, and it feels like a proper ending to a record that has had plenty to say all the way through.
Look, let’s be honest: Ty Myers is astonishing. Other reviews have called him a generational talent and, given that I’m old enough to be his dad, you approach that sort of talk with a bit of cynicism. Hype is cheap. We have all seen it before.
But you can’t listen to “Heavy On The Soul” and not think he has the world at his feet.
RATING 9/10
