Record Review: Ryan Adams

Ryan Adams – Easy Tiger, (Lost Highway.2007)



A new Ryan Adams record gets critics and music geeks salivating, because he is one of the few songwriters out there who actually cares what these segments of music society have to say about his albums (remember the answering machine message to Chicago newsie/Adams-uber-critic Jim DeRogatis? A most pathetic and disturbing act of “I-care-but-don’t-care-but-I-do-care” – or was that viral marketing?). It’s like presenting raw meat to a pack of alley dogs, except the dogs are more grateful. In some circles, it is contentious to say you like [insert album title other than Heartbreaker] by Ryan Adams. “Oh fuck, it’s no Heartbreaker, Short.” True. He never will make another Heartbreaker … a more compelling simpleton argument is “Oh fuck, it’s no Stranger’s Almanac.” Natch. I digress, Adams tendency towards overindulgence, poor sense-of-humor or claiming fucking-around-is-“songwriting” (ha!) can make it tenuous to be a fan or even pen a positive review of his music (try to do so on the genre-hopper, Rock N Roll). Check out this line of typical-crit-bullshit from Allmusic.com editor Stephen Thomas Erlewine:

“Easy Tiger delivers what it promises: the most Ryan Adamsy Ryan Adams record since his first. For some fans, it's exactly what they've been waiting for, for others it'll be entirely too tidy…”

Naturally, Erlewine’s comment is really speculative, armchair psychology and presumptive naval gazing. I’m not going to claim I know what Easy Tiger promises, but I can hear the songs and Easy Tiger straddles the line between classic pop songwriting and blase alt.country. The vocal phrasing, the embrace of the rawk-n-country, the attitude, all are completely Ryan Adams, but the record is quite slick and refined. This is how the whole alt.country got itself forgotten, the rough and tumble of those late 80s/early 90s bands (Uncle Tupelo, Steve Earle, Jason and The Scorchers, Whiskeytown) and at the end it really reminds me of The Jayhawks – not a bad thing, but when I hear Adams, I don’t want to hear The Jayhawks. This is Erlewine's point, not that Ryan Adams is trying to do Ryan Adams.

When listening to records, I love to use the opening track as a gauge. After about 17 and a quarter listens to the entire record, I have unequivocally determined that “Goodnight Rose” is a wonderful benchmark for analyzing the entire record. A glorious intro with sexy lead guitar licks, clanging symbols give way to Adams’ trembling falsetto, a soaring chorus, big-fat-changes, and a wonderful arrangement (check the weeping lap steel and saloon-piano dropped in and out) are so-nearly undermined by a slickness, while not over-the-top, it’s undeniable. It’s the slick production values that not-surprisingly takes away from the overall feel of Easy Tiger, but, more importantly, the songs are there.

Of the thirteen tracks that comprise Easy Tiger, five are quality with extreme prejudice: the aforementioned “Goodnight Rose”, “Two”, “Off Broadway”, “Rip Off”, “Two Hearts” and “I Taught Myself How To Grow Old”. “Two” is the marketing-junket-talking-point semi-duet with Sheryl Crow where she contributes little more than backing vocals (this does not re-capture the classic male-female duet of, say, Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris - more viral marketing? That would be fucking funny). “Off Broadway” is an acoustic kindly-downer with gorgeous electric guitar-washes, a style he has perfected. “Rip Off” tips and taps down the street with head-held-high melancholy (talk about great electric guitar and piano).

One consistency over these past seven or so years is the fact that Adams puts a couple absolutely stuffing tracks on each record (probably the reason the critics still pay attention). “I Taught Myself How To Grow Old” and “Two Hearts” are among the best songs Adams has written. “Two Hearts” has this simple country-shuffle-y-50s-rock/70s-AM-Radio/Beatles-jangle-pop thing going on with Adams injecting the melody with tremendous phrasing and curious flips of notes. “I Taught Myself …” is a mournful/weary ballad with moaning harmonica, subtle acoustic picking, and love-lorn strings. Like “Please Excuse While I Break My Own Heart Again” (from Whiskeytown’s Strangers Almanac), the tune turns the clichÈ on its side, this time it’s growing old. Adams sings in a pulled back falsetto, exuding a heavy heart and resignation to the sad life of the character. Best line of the year: “I just listen to the voices on the TV ‘til I’m tired, my eyes go heavy, and I fade away.”

It is obvious that I find a lot right with Easy Tiger, even the sequencing is near-perfect – the genre hopping is still there, but there is an underlying sound that makes this one of Adams’ most consistent records to date. If you will allow me, I’m going to circle back to this slick-raw dichotomy, because it is what bothers me the most about this record. On “The Sun Also Set”, there is a point (the 1:55 mark) where Adams delivers a deep soulful near-yell that comes off perfunctory, but then a minute later (the 2:47 mark), he delivers the chorus that is earnest, sincere, and deeply soulful. It’s an odd moment on the record that says the most about Easy Tiger’s underlying problem – it is too slick, too expected, but oddly consistent, and very … good? Huh? I just crapped out. Like an easy tiger.

Score: 75.64
File Under: Fucked-N-Alt.Country-N-Roll

###