Love is Hell - Ryan Adams

Love is Hell

Ryan Adams
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 93%

Love is Hell Volume 1 shook me to the core. I bought it on a Friday, took it to my friend’s apartment that night, shot some rum, drank some codeine, passed out and walked home before sunrise. When I listened to it alone the next morning, I had no idea I would spend the next three days holed up in my room completely entranced. I lay in bed and memorized the words, I sat at my desk and studied the grays of his photography. Those days were an uninterrupted hangover caught in slow movements, where my body felt fine but my heart and mind suffered from something undiagnosed. I skipped meals and classes and phonecalls. I wondered how anyone could write self-absorption and desire and confusion and self-loathing with the barreled-out accuracy that Ryan Adams had.

Love is Hell Volume 2 woke me up with wintry overcast and hustled me out into a bitter-cold January of snow-stiff jeans and chimney clouds. I wanted a girlfriend who didn’t love me, I fucked over a bunch of people who didn’t die, I too wondered if it was snowing in space. Moreover, I believed it was… December through March, above the coal-black skies of Southern Ontario, tiny crystalline flakes I kicked around were arriving from unseen planets. I assumed, from lack of experience, that love was hell. It was impossible to explain to anyone how much I loved this record, or what songs represented it best. It still is. When I pass Love is Hell in a record store, I wish I could buy it again if only to experience that dirge of a honeymoon once more. When faced now with the task of reviewing it, I cringe with jealousy at the idea of someone discovering such an album for the first time. When I tell people that Love is Hell isn’t Ryan Adams’ best record, I’m telling the truth and lying all at once.

Cardinology - Ryan Adams & the Cardinals

Cardinology

Ryan Adams
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 79%

When you’re as prolific as Ryan Adams, releasing anywhere from one to three records in a given year, album titles are hardly worth stressing about. Most of them, as Adams himself has admitted, are hilariously undercooked proposals: Gold was his take on 70s Gold AM radio, Demolition was unsurprisingly a collection of demos, Love is Hell was about love being hell and RockNRoll was about cocaine, er, I mean, rock and roll? Hell, according to a recent Adams interview for Rolling Stone, even the lovelorn intimacy of Heartbreaker found its title as a tribute to his favourite Mariah Carey hit. So when Easy Tiger was a verbatim reference to something Adams’ girlfriend had once told him, it nearly seemed poetic; after years of relentless albums, tours, girlfriends and illnesses, Easy Tiger was the first Adams’ release in a year and a half, finding him focused and sober. In fact, much of that album’s press seemed smitten with Adams’ newfound sobriety; a journalistic novelty for the subject formerly plagued by slander that his shows were unprofessional, his albums required editing, and his persona was a drunken punchline.

Another fifteen months pass and Adams’ new thesis, Cardinology, presents us with a study of his band The Cardinals. Of course, any fan of Adams is likely a Cardinals fan as well; their contributions to Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights and Easy Tiger (uncredited) reveal an outfit nearly as adaptable and multitalented as their ringleader, moving effortlessly from Grateful Dead noodling and country session band to classic-rock riffing. What defines Cardinology from past efforts is Adams’ back-step into the fold, where more than ever, he is a Cardinal instead of a prominent solo artist in front of a backing band. This union has been strengthening for years and their camaraderie is audible throughout twelve tracks of country-flavoured rock. Neal Casal contributes strong backing vocals, harmonizing with Adams or echoing his sentiments on laid-back ‘Natural Ghost’ and the riff-heavy ‘Magick’. Jon Graboff - in my opinion the Cardinals’ most crucial member - continues to build on his pedigree of brilliant pedal-steel performances, echoing the lazy romance of ‘Evergreen’ and rural warmth throughout. The power of this full band is unmistakable on lead single ‘Fix It’, a swaggering blues tune complete with Feinstein’s guitar solo and the powerful duo of Adams and Casal sharing chorus vocals.

Despite this well-honed group confidence, Cardinology offers another muscular argument: sobriety is damned boring. As Adams intones at one point “Be more like the trees and less like the clouds / stop moving around so much”, his narratives, fleeting and sparse, clearly reflect his cleaned up lifestyle. Where Love is Hell spoke poignantly or metaphorically about romance and death, or where 29 created interconnecting mysteries, plot-turns and characters, Cardinology discusses dead relationships, rehab, and how Adams retires to bed alone each night. If Easy Tiger suggested Adams’ wild days were behind him, Cardinology, lyrically at least, sounds convinced of it and roundly depressed. Exerpt (from 'Let Us Down Easy'):
“Instead of praying I tell God these jokes he must be tired of himself so much He must be more than disappointed
Christmas comes we eat alone a pretty smile surrounds a pretty girl who takes your order she yells it
and cries alone in the backroom once in a while until it stops”
Wait, what? How does one write ‘This House is Not for Sale’ or ‘Strawberry Wine’ while on heroin/coke combos, and then two years sober, write the fragmented lyrics above? These odd, scribbled phrases – that were occasionally visible on Easy Tiger – consume this latest effort, making one wonder whether Adams could clarify his words if he tried. Even when his lyrical talents, once biting and memorable, slide ever-closer toward the ramblings of a shut-in, Adams remains a thrilling performer with romantic regrets on the reverb-drenched climax of ‘Sink Ships’ and the pulsing melancholy of ‘Cobwebs’.

Earning more than a few comparative points to Easy Tiger with its no trimmings approach, Cardinology strikes even; it’s far more cohesive than its mixed-bag predecessor but occasionally suffers from its filtered classic-rock template. The record’s most interesting moments are those fragments of enlightenment Adams learned in rehab, where his pleas for guidance and recognition of past mistakes give his good ol’ rock and roll some gospel vibes. It’s among the slight progressions this record can boast, which after years of genre-shifts, finds Adams’ career at a standstill. Never has this once-misfit been so humble and inconspicuous on record; as a longtime fan, this phenomenon paints Cardinology as refreshing yet sporadically underwhelming.

Jacksonville City Nights - Ryan Adams & the Cardinals

Jacksonville City Nights

Ryan Adams & the Cardinals
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 90%

Dear John,

Not a single note from this record belongs anywhere but in Autumn, that Autumn, when our street was cast in a month of harvest colours – an eternity by Fall’s clock – and I felt these songs kick up like dust from the front lawn. There wasn’t a whole lot else on my agenda, anyway; I’d work the weekdays in the concrete gutter of freight trucks and forklifts, then wander home beneath the glow of evening century trees. Most of all, I hung around waiting for you, sitting by the bay-window and collecting bottles like they were worth something to anyone else.

I don’t live there anymore, in case you ever wondered. Wherever I am now feels continents and persons removed from that street or the way I walked then. You can’t run from that, so who could bother trying. You only hope to find enough miles of distance from yourself that the two yous can live their lives without ever meeting again. Maybe that doesn’t add up to you, but I bet I’m still kicking somewhere round that red bungalow, cities away, listening to ‘Hard Way to Fall’s sad-choirboy chorus, and making myself sick. Still staring out at the roadside hills to the pedal-steel sighs of ‘Games’, still catching my reflection, long-haired and pale-faced to the slow pilgrimage of ‘Peaceful Valley’. When I hear these songs now I know that part of me’s still there waiting.

You know I could borrow my brother’s car, head down that barren highway and look in those windows. I could tap my wheel to ‘The Hardest Part’ or ‘Trains’ all the way through the small towns and wide farmland divides till I’m right there, on the drive, staring at the blackened windows you could’ve burnt out with me. Pull that dirty piano bench and pen a few of ‘Silver Bullets’ lonely keys that still play, find the back-shed empties that were whiskey to the veins of ‘My Heart is Broken’. Or turn out the light and listen for creaks in the house, aches in the walls, any step on the stairs that could’ve been you. But it’s ‘PA’ all over again, and the same news through the floorboards I always tried to ignore. You were gone.

I’d toss Jacksonville City Nights like the rest but lord it feels good; each song a separate rustling of leaves, each lyric a cut I’m proud to bare. You always said Love is Hell was your suicide letter, but it has nothing on this. Or me. We really lived for awhile, John. We really grew up together.

xo.

Cold Roses - Ryan Adams and the Cardinals

Cold Roses

Ryan Adams and the Cardinals
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 87%

2005 was a banner year for Ryan Adams, an artist who was as prolific in the studio as he was in short-lived celebrity relationships and creative abortions, namely because he stood by his vow to release three full-length albums within 9 months. That each of these records was well-received as glorious returns to roots-rock after what many considered to be an unwise venture into mope-rock territory certainly fanned the Cardinal flames. The first of these releases, Cold Roses, was unveiled the night I caught his live show and incidentally met him. The club was curiously sweaty for an early May evening but we soldiered through a variety of alt-country ramblings that would only become clear in the months to follow. All the while I listened in to early reviews of Cold Roses from fans in crowd who mythologized its greatness to strangers between songs. Even now, years later, I can feel the warmth and humidity in these songs, from the heavy pace of ‘Magnolia Mountain’ to ‘Meadowlake Street’s long-grass soliloquy.

I’d be shocked if Adams doesn’t feel the same; Cold Roses is chocked full of nature imagery to the point of overkill. In this rural landscape he has painted, every street is named after plants or fruit, any obstacles made of earth and stone, every girl a river or rose. Most every reference is indicative of his own newfound peace, an easy plateau, so to speak, after the tumultuous years of Love is Hell and Rock N Roll that reached climax when he severely broke his wrist during a stage-fall in early 2004. Newly subdued and reflective, ‘How Do You Keep Love Alive’ finds Adams completely at odds with his winking counterpart while ‘When Will You Come Back Home’ is a James Taylor cover waiting to happen (as my father accurately pinned). His serene disposition even touches on ideas of spirituality in ‘Life is Beautiful’, a song that speaks volumes when compared to ‘Fuck the Universe’, written not two years earlier.

The idea of a Ryan Adams double-album rang off as redundant in some circles who deemed much of his records excessive and poorly edited, but Cold Roses proves focused, not only in its Grateful Dead jam-ability sense, but because I can only find two songs I could bear to cut from this eighteen song-cycle. And when tracks like ‘Sweet Illusions’ and ‘Cherry Lane’ aren’t wooing you with their mid-tempo guitar licks, you’re staring in the headlights of ‘Let It Ride’, one of Adams’ best songs ever.

Those who attended that sweltering show and claimed the record’s brilliance were mostly prophets; die-hards who would rather play Adams’ least attractive live renditions than any music beyond his considerate catalogue. Besides, this record is too expansive and intertwined to be judged through one listen in a parked car. They were quiet, still, when grouped around Adams in a parking lot after the show, when two disappointed, RockNRoll-loving show-goers shouted at the drunken songwriter from afar. Truth is, Cold Roses will almost certainly shake loose any new fans who rocked-out to ‘So Alive’; it’s too comfortable in its cowboy boots and 70s vinyl for the cover of Spin. But to fans who’ve lamented for Adams to embrace his roots once more, Cold Roses is beautiful like a long-awaited visit home.

Rock N Roll - Ryan Adams

Rock N Roll

Ryan Adams
Lost Highway Records.

SCQ Rating: 78%

Maybe it’s because Ryan Adams released five records during my university years (likely the most social years I’ll ever have) that I have such clear associations between his work and my life. While I would’ve adored his records at any age, those recorded during that period always remind me of particular street corners, bar booths, resident bedrooms, good friends or girls. And Rock N Roll wasn’t even supposed to exist; Adams hastily recorded it in spite after Lost Highway refused to release Love is Hell as his proper follow-up to the much-hyped Gold. Adams wrote and recorded the album in two weeks, dwelling in his friend’s bar basement, and paid for its recording on his VISA to keep the label clueless. So I find it humorous that Rock N Roll constantly reminds me of, well, me; some twenty-one year old arts student, who would wait until his parties were at their loudest before sneakily putting this record on for my own enjoyment. Believe it or not, I sold a few people on Ryan Adams this way.

You can feel Adams’ hurt in some cases – the ridiculous lyrics of ‘Wish You Were Here’ are practically sneering at the label that established him as a poetic song-writer – and his inebriated excesses are present the rest of the time. The Strokes-influenced ‘She’s Lost Total Control’ is as raucous an example as one can offer to someone who hasn’t heard this side of Ryan Adams; the Black Flag, Husker Du obsessive who once claimed he became a country singer because “singing punk was too hard”. That may be true, but Mr. Adams pulls it off here, giving his voice a convincing gravel on ‘The Drugs Not Working’ without abandoning his well-earned reputation as a song-bird on album highlight ‘Anybody Wanna Take Me Home’.

When Adams combines his rock sensibilities with that trademark voice, we get ‘So Alive’; a bonafide classic. Even critics who panned this album (there were many) must at least respect how compelling Adams presents his case; to make a riff-heavy rock record, paying homage to his favourite bands (which was coincidentally why critics hated it). For an artist who excels at writing mid-tempo songs with sad lyrics, Rock N Roll is an unexpected triumph.

29 - Ryan Adams

29

Ryan Adams
Lost Highway Records


SCQ Rating: 75%

A slew of albums (eight of which legitimate records, the rest orphaned/subject of trailed-off sentences) and twice as many personas, Ryan Adams has accumulated a legacy, unstable as it may be, comparable in both talent and profligacy to the aging songwriter generation he muses after. Throw in a few public meltdowns, several tour cancellations due to poor health, a commercial breakthrough, its inevitable backlash, an orchestra-pit collapse and a ton of reported substance abuse, and you have five years in a career which has given birth to enough material to warrant such comparisons to any Young or Westerberg. So you can lend the once-deemed "New Dylan" a seat if he sounds tired on 29, his third record of the year, as this is where one suspects that art is imitating life.

One glance at the blotted ink-stains and typewriter errors found throughout the liner notes reminds me of a common Ryan Adams gauntlet my mind occasionally throws down: is Ryan Adams a genius giving into lazy song-writing and jackassery? Or are all these rough edges and head-scratching, 'is-he-serious' lyrics part of his genius? When he sings "And I worry about you / Why, because you want me to," is it an honest assessment of a complicated relationship, or more of the aforementioned flippancy? More to the point, are the blotted ink-stains and typewriter errors committed purposefully or is Mr. Adams just rushing for the finish line? With most artists, I think the consensus would lie in the former. However with Ryan Adams, it's a rare mystique in his otherwise cartoon-worthy over-exposure; the artistic merit beneath a defensive jokester.

Regardless of which side you're on, neither will justify 'The Sadness'; a Mexican-Standoff complete with galloping guitars stolen from the Three Amigos soundtrack and worse, Adams screaming "Arrrrrriiiiba" to imaginary horses that will lead him away from, that's right, the Sadness. That this song shares a running time with some of Adam's most affecting work is a further shame, as much of 29's REAL sadness is tender and evocative in its instrumental and lyrical detail. 'Strawberry Wine' is a pastoral gem of minimalist acoustics; a simple serenade of guitar and banjo to complement one of Adams' many richly disturbing stories on display. "Starlite Diner' and the rather Morrissey-inspired title of "Elizabeth, You Were Born to Play That Part' further imbed an understanding of Adams' talent by stripping everything but his voice and a small band of instruments (aided by Ethan John's pristine production).

In fact, the regrettable moments on this record are the songs where he shows no regret; when he abandons his thematic passage of claustrophobic loneliness in lieu of, well, jackassery ('29'). And for an album consisting of only nine songs, the few missteps admittedly leave a larger smear on the record as a cohesive whole. No denying it, 29 is certainly the comedown record of his catalogue and, possibly, the wintry close of his formidable years. Here’s to the next five.

Follow the Lights - Ryan Adams & The Cardinals

Follow the Lights

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals
Lost Highway Records

SCQ Rating: 73%

A peace-offering after the marketing coup that kept the Cardinals’ name off the cover of Easy Tiger, Follow the Lights finds the band reunited with Adams, showcasing new material plus Cardinal versions of older material. The new tracks continue Adams recent admiration for traditional song-writing, and finally provide us with a studio rendition of live favourite ‘My Love for You is Real’. The title track and ‘Blue Hotel’ confirm that this is a collection far looser, less-strictly produced than its LP predecessor.

The top-notch highlight, ‘This Is It (Cardinals Version)’, proves both how versatile much of that RockNRoll material is, and how naturally a band like the Cardinals can compliment it. The last two Cardinal Versions, despite sounding great, leave much to be desired, and it would’ve been far more interesting to hear them perform, like ‘This Is It’, older material from Ryan Adams’ early solo material. 'The Drugs Not Working' or 'World War 24' as done by the Cardinals? Could've, Should've.