A Ryan Adams Primer
November 1, 2003
by Brandon Copple

Ryan Adams is a helluva songwriter. He must be one of the most talented singers out there and he's got a fantastic ear for rock hooks. He's made some unbelievably great records.

He's made some real shit too. He's a self-indulgent drunk and an egotistical fuckup whose last two albums have been uninspired and overproduced.

That's the over-under. Now, want to bet whether his new record is any good? This month he'll release that record, then spit out a couple EPs of demos, B-sides, alternate versions and other stuff you'd only expect from a guy who is long past his prime and desperate to raise money to pay off the Betty Ford.

Ryan (as we sycophants call him) isn't washed up, but if he's gonna flood the market with his studio backwash, then I'm gonna treat him like he is.

So here's my Ryan Adams retrospective. A look back at a career that spans one full decade, that includes zero gold records and no major awards. I'll take them in order from best to worst, according to me. Note that these aren't necessarily all the albums he's made, just the ones I own. I may be missing a Whiskeytown record or something. If you were expecting the Encyclopedia fucking Britannica, I apologize.

Ryan Adams, Heartbreaker (2000)
"Precious little thing, with eyes that dance around without their clothes"

A masterpiece. A beautiful sadness. Quiet, dark, poetic. The music is sparse: straightforward guitars and soft drums leading string sections along with Adams' forlorn vocals. The language is obscure but so raw, so sincere, that you get it: despair, heartbreak, loneliness that hurts in your chest. It's visceral. It's beyond emotional. It's like Gram Parsons' best songwriting: you don't know what he's singing about, you feel it.

And speaking of whom, Emmylou Harris sings backup on the song "My Sweet Carolina," which includes the lyrics "So I went on to Cleveland, and I ended up insane; bought a borrowed suit and learned to dance."

Emmy's voice is the Tabasco sauce of country music: it makes even good stuff better. But the better the music, the better Emmy sounds. On Heartbreaker she sounds perfect, and I can't come up with a better compliment than that.

Whiskeytown, Pneumonia (2001)
"Loving you has gotten weird"

Ryan broke up the band right after recording this record, god knows why. Who wouldn't want to be in a band that makes music like this?

Pneumonia is mellow and sad, a record about abandoning your hometown and loving the wrong person and being loved by the wrong person and other stuff that 20-something small-town kids feel when they walk home alone on a cold city night.

Most of the songs are straightforward melodies, bittersweet and irresistible. Caitlin Cary’s fiddle is often the lead instrument, and it’s a swell compliment to Ryan’s strained, soulful voice. The music feels lush without seeming overproduced.

The last song, "Bar Lights," ends with Ryan breaking a string and stumbling over the final chorus. There is laughter in the studio and then you hear Ryan say “I’m going to the bar; fuck this.” The fact that they left it all in there – the string break, the blown vocal and the closing missive – is one of the things I love about this album.

Ryan Adams, Gold (2001)
"Well I shuffled through the city on a fourth of July had a firecracker waiting to blow"

On the other hand, there's Gold.

The knock on Gold has been that it's little more than second-rate 70s rock. Stones riffs and Skynyrd breakdowns on top of Ryan's obsessive self-pity.

That's true, but so what? You say there's nothing groundbreaking on Gold, I say there are and have always been plenty of cool bands doing a retro thing. You say every song is about the songwriter feeling sorry for himself, I say go read the Hank Williams songbook.

Fact is this album has enough good songs, about eight, to make one good record. Great hooks, solid writing and music that plays perfect against Ryan's voice. Unfortunately it’s got like 21 songs; these range from the well-conceived but poorly executed ("Sylvia Plath") to the downright awful ("Tina Toledo").

The problem with Gold is that even on the good songs, the music is too perfect. Maybe it's overproduced, certainly it’s overwrought. It's hard to argue that the older stuff is better, with its inexpert playing and back-of-the-envelope songwriting, but sometimes I wonder.

A guy who's writing on raw emotion maybe shouldn't be pouring over his songs in the studio for a month. Feel it, write it, sing it, can it. Any self-respecting musician reading this probably wants to kick my ass by now.

Whiskeytown, Faithless Street (1998)
"You say you wanna play country, but you’re in a punk rock band"

This is what I'm talking about. Sounds like it was recorded in a bar after closing time. Lots of rough edges but nothing false about it. Ryan knows what it's like to be stuck and desperate and drunk in a shitty little town. So do I. It's all here.

There is a song here called "Factory Girl" that is worth the price alone. A beautiful two-guitar piece with three verses that don’t form a narrative, but manage to tell a story – probably because it's a story you already know.

Whiskeytown, Strangers Almanac (1997)
"Parking lot, movie screen; I don't feel anything
Cigarette, beat-up TV; I don't feel anything"

The lines above open Strangers Almanac and suck you immediately in to a world of heartache. The song, "Inntown" is a powerhouse. At his best, Ryan writes sparse songs, sometimes just two verses. There are a few such gems here, including "Inntown," "Houses on the Hill" and "Everything I Do." The rest is fairly so-so.

Like all the Whiskeytown records, Strangers Almanac feels like the band made it in a week, locked up in a barn somewhere in North Carolina. I love it.

Ryan Adams, Demolition (2002)
"I been thinking some of suicide, but there’s bars out here for miles"

Even the worst Ryan Adams record isn't that bad. There are two great songs on this album. The first is "Dear Chicago," a haunting meditation on getting over it. The second is "Chin Up, Cheer Up," a clever bluegrassy ramble.

Otherwise there isn't much here. The slow songs are fine but uninteresting. The fast songs suck, with the exception of "Chin Up" and "Hallelujah," which is catchy and cool but another classic-rock knockoff.

This was supposed to be a demo record ('Demo’-lition…get it?), but it sounds like it’s been varnished and lacquered by a real pro.

~ ~ ~

So I’m hoping the new Ryan Adams album will be a little less contrived, a little more fun. I could care less how derivative it is or from where it’s derived. All he needs to do is sit down and play.

(Brandon Copple is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine.)