Sydneyfan
07-02-2007, 05:18 PM
I think someone was struggling to meet the word count on this one......
There’s nothing tigerish about Adam’s new album but he has got potential
RYAN ADAMS: Easy Tiger (Lost Highway)
THE PR biog-blurb that accompanies Ryan Adams' ninth studio album was written by Stephen King. That's not Stephen from down your street.
It's the bloke who wrote The Shining and a ton of chiller-thrillers.
It's an inspired nixer. Because Adams is a unique showbiz horror-show.
He's a musician who promised much and, despite a robust output, delivered little in a career that began in Whiskey-town, a band that picked up the country-rock stash dropped by Gram Parsons.
His solo album Heartbreaker in 2000 appeared to signpost future greatness.
The follow-up, Gold, was a measured attempt to nail down his position as a major league player.
However, it would seem Adams is his own worst enemy.
He began acting the buck eejit. Stumbling around drunk and stoned, wrecking his own live shows and recording albums of dross (his hardcore fans might disagree with this assessment), he didn't achieve the aura of doomed romanticism foolishly associated with Hank Williams or the aforementioned Mr Parsons.
It just made Ryan look silly.
Sadly, even Stephen King's stately prose doesn't really alter this perception.
He opens his narrative with the story of how Ryan got the name for this new album.
A girlfriend used the phrase to get him to chill. “Easy, tiger,” she said.
“It stuck with me to the point where I called Neal (his guitarist) and left a message on his answering machine with these two words,” says Adams in an attempt to mythologise a two-bit title.
“Don’t forget this,” I said. “' Cause I might want to use it.” He didn't scribble the phrase on the back of a Rizla packet. Or scrawl it on a mirror. He didn't even try to remember it. He phoned a friend. God help us.
But, you know, we shouldn't be surprised. Ryan writes his songs at a typewriter.
“I process things. I went into the dream business. If people need ' em, I've got extra.”
The 14 songs on Easy Tiger (that includes a reggae-tinged bonus track) offer glimpses of his old promise.
It sounds as if he's at least trying.
Unfortunately, there are times when it sounds as if he's trying too hard.
Quite clearly, Adams is trying far too hard to convince himself that he's really got the key to this “dream business”, when in fact he's merely listening at the keyhole to older alchemists that have gone before him, people such as Neil Young (I Taught Myself How To Grow Old), The Grateful Dead (Goodnight Rose) and cult Canadians Frazer & DeBolt (These Girls).
There's no denying the emotive power of Adams' voice. It's a heartbreaking thing that you feel could make the telephone pages sound tragic.
Indeed, the telephone directory might be marginally more interesting than some of Ryan's poetry.
I've got a Hallowe’en head, head full of candy bags, costume shops and punks in drag...”
Ryan Adams is 32 years’ old. And he's been romantically linked with Lindsay Lohan and various celebrity babes.
It may be that we'll eventually get an album of really important songs from him that his work continues to hint at.
There's reason to be optimistic. When he's understated, and undemonstrative, Adams does mine rich soil.
Oh My God, Whatever, Etc, an acoustic truck-stop hymn, is a mini-road movie in its own right.
The banjo-driven Pearls On A String evokes a back porch warmth not heard since the heyday of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
The drawback with Easy Tiger remains the shadow of Adams' influences that hangs over many of the songs.
If he ever finds his own voice, we could be in for a major treat.
THREE TO BURN
1. These Girls: Nice taut, acoustic guitar-picking ushers along a song that recalls Fraser & DeBolt’s Dance Hall Girls.
2. I Taught Myself How To Grow Old: Plaintiff harmonica and cracked voice echo vintage Neil Young.
3. Oh My God, Whatever, Etc: As poignant as a morning-after napkin with lipstick traces.
- Eamon Carr
There’s nothing tigerish about Adam’s new album but he has got potential
RYAN ADAMS: Easy Tiger (Lost Highway)
THE PR biog-blurb that accompanies Ryan Adams' ninth studio album was written by Stephen King. That's not Stephen from down your street.
It's the bloke who wrote The Shining and a ton of chiller-thrillers.
It's an inspired nixer. Because Adams is a unique showbiz horror-show.
He's a musician who promised much and, despite a robust output, delivered little in a career that began in Whiskey-town, a band that picked up the country-rock stash dropped by Gram Parsons.
His solo album Heartbreaker in 2000 appeared to signpost future greatness.
The follow-up, Gold, was a measured attempt to nail down his position as a major league player.
However, it would seem Adams is his own worst enemy.
He began acting the buck eejit. Stumbling around drunk and stoned, wrecking his own live shows and recording albums of dross (his hardcore fans might disagree with this assessment), he didn't achieve the aura of doomed romanticism foolishly associated with Hank Williams or the aforementioned Mr Parsons.
It just made Ryan look silly.
Sadly, even Stephen King's stately prose doesn't really alter this perception.
He opens his narrative with the story of how Ryan got the name for this new album.
A girlfriend used the phrase to get him to chill. “Easy, tiger,” she said.
“It stuck with me to the point where I called Neal (his guitarist) and left a message on his answering machine with these two words,” says Adams in an attempt to mythologise a two-bit title.
“Don’t forget this,” I said. “' Cause I might want to use it.” He didn't scribble the phrase on the back of a Rizla packet. Or scrawl it on a mirror. He didn't even try to remember it. He phoned a friend. God help us.
But, you know, we shouldn't be surprised. Ryan writes his songs at a typewriter.
“I process things. I went into the dream business. If people need ' em, I've got extra.”
The 14 songs on Easy Tiger (that includes a reggae-tinged bonus track) offer glimpses of his old promise.
It sounds as if he's at least trying.
Unfortunately, there are times when it sounds as if he's trying too hard.
Quite clearly, Adams is trying far too hard to convince himself that he's really got the key to this “dream business”, when in fact he's merely listening at the keyhole to older alchemists that have gone before him, people such as Neil Young (I Taught Myself How To Grow Old), The Grateful Dead (Goodnight Rose) and cult Canadians Frazer & DeBolt (These Girls).
There's no denying the emotive power of Adams' voice. It's a heartbreaking thing that you feel could make the telephone pages sound tragic.
Indeed, the telephone directory might be marginally more interesting than some of Ryan's poetry.
I've got a Hallowe’en head, head full of candy bags, costume shops and punks in drag...”
Ryan Adams is 32 years’ old. And he's been romantically linked with Lindsay Lohan and various celebrity babes.
It may be that we'll eventually get an album of really important songs from him that his work continues to hint at.
There's reason to be optimistic. When he's understated, and undemonstrative, Adams does mine rich soil.
Oh My God, Whatever, Etc, an acoustic truck-stop hymn, is a mini-road movie in its own right.
The banjo-driven Pearls On A String evokes a back porch warmth not heard since the heyday of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
The drawback with Easy Tiger remains the shadow of Adams' influences that hangs over many of the songs.
If he ever finds his own voice, we could be in for a major treat.
THREE TO BURN
1. These Girls: Nice taut, acoustic guitar-picking ushers along a song that recalls Fraser & DeBolt’s Dance Hall Girls.
2. I Taught Myself How To Grow Old: Plaintiff harmonica and cracked voice echo vintage Neil Young.
3. Oh My God, Whatever, Etc: As poignant as a morning-after napkin with lipstick traces.
- Eamon Carr