Picture if Mr. Bungle met Wilco in the quiet backroom of a second-hand bookshop, and the Flaming Lips happened to stumble in, humming a tune they’d just dreamt up. That’s Ryan Liberty Megan—an artist who paints with avant-garde brushstrokes across a familiar indie-rock canvas.

Ryan Liberty Megan is a boundary-pushing singer-songwriter from New Paltz, New York, whose music melds noise rock chaos with introspective, genre-bending melodies. After stepping back for over a decade to raise his family, Ryan returned to the scene with a renewed vision, drawing on influences from Melvins, Mr. Bungle, Ween, Wilco, and The Flaming Lips. His latest album, El Songo, channels a dream-like narrative through a rich sonic tapestry of avant-garde textures and oddly sweet harmonies. Born into a family spanning stark ideological contrasts, Ryan’s early musical experiences inspired his inventive approach to songwriting. His work has drawn the attention of critics and media outlets drawn to his fearless experimentation and evocative storytelling. In addition to his recorded output, Ryan produces mind-bending music videos—either visually electric or conceptually stark—that reflect his commitment to pushing artistic boundaries.

Ryan Liberty Megan’s music is the soundtrack to a midnight drive through a surreal small town, equal parts comforting diner coffee and ominous roadside silhouettes. Born in New Paltz, New York, and raised in a pressure cooker of clashing ideologies—his mom a radical free spirit, his dad a hardline traditionalist—Ryan spent his youth absorbing every dissonant note the universe threw at him, then twisting it into a sound that’s equal parts curious grin and raised eyebrow.

After a decade-long hiatus spent being a full-time parent, Ryan re-emerged with a new credo: make a song a day and let the chips fall where they may. Like a vintage B-movie spliced with a nature documentary, his tracks blend noisy rock eruptions and oddball melodies with moments of genuine tenderness. Influences like Melvins, Mr. Bungle, and Ween lurk in the shadows, arm-wrestling Wilco, Beck, and The Flaming Lips for sonic dominance.

His music videos, whether visually electric or conceptually stark, feel like fever dreams you might stumble upon at 2 a.m.—a place where animated chaos mingles with heartfelt confessions over late-night cereal. The media and industry have taken notice, nodding approvingly at his refusal to settle neatly into any genre and his ability to coax meaning from the messy edges.

At the core, Ryan Liberty Megan’s artistry is about drawing lines between the absurd and the sincere, then blurring them. He’s not here to hand you tidy labels or neat resolutions. He’s here to show you that sound can be both a friendly guide and a trickster spirit, ushering you into a world where contradictions are the main attraction and there’s always something new lurking just around the corner.

Imagine walking into a dimly lit thrift store at midnight, the kind of place that might be a front for an interdimensional portal or just a weird roadside attraction. Over in the corner, behind a stack of VHS tapes that may or may not be cursed, Ryan Liberty Megan is quietly tuning a guitar. 

He’s got that vibe: part unassuming dad from New Paltz, New York, who once stashed his guitar in a closet for a decade to focus on raising his kid, and part eccentric sonic alchemist who refuses to obey the laws of genre or convention.

Ryan’s early life already felt like the setup to some cosmic inside joke. His mother was a radical free spirit, his father a conservative cop and Vietnam vet. Toss in the fact that he nearly got named “Liberty” outright, and you’ve got a built-in tension that shaped everything to come. As a kid, Ryan soaked in music like a neural sponge, courtesy of his mother’s job at the university’s School of Music. Choir practice and classical arrangements swirled in his young ears. Then one teenage acid trip and a viewing of Pink Floyd’s Live at Pompeii later, he was picking up a guitar and never looking back.

He spent years drifting around, taking odd jobs and playing in noise-rock bands that lurked in sticky-floored bars. Eventually, he landed in ORYAN, a project that earned its share of local love and serious momentum. But at the precise moment when he could have thrown himself fully into that chaotic spotlight, Ryan pivoted in the other direction. He chose fatherhood over the long touring schedule, stability over uncertainty, and that was that—at least for a while. He dropped off the radar, storing away his musical impulses like a secret journal.

Flash forward more than a decade, and Ryan resurfaced, this time writing a song every day as if making up for lost time. He’s no longer content to colour inside the lines of any standard genre. Instead, he’s weaving the influences of Melvins, Mr. Bungle, and Ween into a tapestry that also nods toward Wilco, Beck, and The Flaming Lips. The result is music that feels like stepping into a dark cartoon alleyway lit by neon reflections. Guitars grind and squawk, melodies slip between the cracks of reason, and lyrics poke at your comfort zones with a crooked grin.

His music videos lean hard into that same energy. Some come at you like a strobed-out fever dream, all electric neon and fractured images. Others are stark and conceptual, the kind of thing that leaves you pondering the difference between reality and hallucination. But whether they’re blistering your retinas or whispering strange truths in quiet frames, these videos sit somewhere between performance art and an inside joke shared between Ryan and the listener. They’re not made to fit easily into your feed; they’re designed to linger in your mental basement for a while, rearranging dusty boxes.

Media and industry folks have taken notice. Journalists raise eyebrows and scribble notes, unable to pin him down. Bookers see potential in his unpredictability. Fans nod along, intrigued by his willingness to exist between categories. He’s not here to deliver clean narratives, to ensure every track fits neatly on a playlist. He’s more interested in the interplay between chaos and calm, the way a noisy riff can cradle a surprisingly gentle melody.

His debut album El Songo slid into focus like a surreal documentary on the human condition. Conceived as a sprawling concept piece, it’s now a fifteen-track plunge into dreams and memories, each song another clue in a puzzle that might not have a solution. 

And that’s the point. 

In Ryan’s world, life doesn’t come with a neat bow. It’s messy and hilarious, heartbreaking and comforting, sometimes all at once. His role is to soundtrack that complexity, to remind you that sound can be as elastic and unpredictable as the thoughts rattling around in your brain at 3 a.m.

At the end of the day, Ryan Liberty Megan isn’t offering a safe ride. He’s extending a hand and inviting you into a world where the line between fatherhood and noise-rock auteur blurs, where influences smash together like action figures in a kid’s bedroom, and where every new note feels like it could either erupt into chaos or slip into a soothing lullaby. In other words, he’s just being honest—about the contradictions, about the strangeness, and about the delight that comes from never quite knowing what might happen next.