Review: Ryan Adams - 'Cold Roses'

The UK import single of Ryan Adams’ “Nuclear” contains a b-side called “Song for Keith” in which Adams obsesses over various Stones albums while rifling around for his bong. It’s tongue-in-cheek (or not), but the song no doubt reflects Adams’ own geekily compulsive music personality. If one of his overriding goals is to inspire similar obsessiveness from his own fans, he has no doubt achieved it. Because if you factor in his three albums with Whiskeytown, Adams’ recording catalog (which might include any number of unreleased records) is quickly becoming the kind of diverse, almost schizophrenic journey that reveals both his best and worst tendencies as an artist.

For some old-school fans, the worst reached its nadir with the virtually simultaneous release of Rock N Roll and Love Is Hell (originally issued as two EP’s). Love Is Hell received notoriety as the album Lost Highway refused to release. Deemed too depressing by the label (Adams’ recording home of several years), Love Is Hell was put on the shelf until Adams turned in Rock N Roll, a possibly insincere stab at pleasing the execs as well as cashing in on the then-hot-but-now-not garage rock trend. Lost Highway focused its publicity machine on RnR while also releasing LIH in two parts, a nice angle for Adams’ press. The reviews for this work were decidedly mixed, with many fans and critics lining up to praise RnR while condemning LIH, or vice versa in some cases. Regardless of the merits of each record – of which there are many – both efforts felt like a break with Adams’ past, which had typically been associated with the waning alt.country movement of the mid-to-late 90’s. But by RnR, Adams had become a verifiable minor celebrity, particularly with his UK fans, who seemed to appreciate both the new-wave sensibilities of RnR and the Brit-pop sounds of LIH. If music snobs had previously dismissed Adams’ tendency to try on various stylistic hats, they were outright hostile to these new sounds, which were roundly criticized as Adams’ further attempts to play musical dress-up.

In hindsight, it is Adams’ solo debut Heartbreaker that is regarded as his instant classic (although it was actually greeted with a good deal of “new Dylan” indifference). That record’s charms are obvious – tossed off melodies, loose “wish you were here” performances (courtesy of Gillian Welch and David Rawlings) and an overall justification for Adams’ boy-genius tag. Unlike, say, Rock N Roll (released in 2003), time has been kind to Heartbreaker. The simple songs deepen with subsequent listens, and some of Adams’ charms were taken for granted upon its release (and disappeared from some of his later work).

Adams’ major-label solo debut Gold moved Heartbreaker out to Hollywood for some major upgrades. It was still easy to spot Adams’ songs, but they were draped in his influences, which ran from Buffalo Springfield to Elton John to the Stones. Alt.country bible No Depression dismissed it not-too-cleverly as “Pyrite”, but the eerily-timed “New York, New York” became a sort of minor anthem for the days immediately following 9/11. Gold solidified Adams’ status as a star, and he practically exploded in the UK, where his sort of retro vibe was greatly appreciated by the readers of Uncut and Mojo.

At this point, Adams’ recording career took some detours. There was much talk of releasing several albums, including a box set of his unreleased work (Suicide Handbook, The Pinkhearts) and constant talk of collaborations and even a “supergroup” (which was to include Evan Dando and James Iha of Smashing Pumpkins). A compilation of unreleased tracks was eventually released as an afterthought. However, Demolition was warmly received by fans, and a subsequent low-key tour was greeted with positive reviews (despite a notorious incident at The Ryman in which he had a drunken lout ejected for screaming “Summer of ’69!” throughout the set). But the perception continued to emerge that Adams recorded virtually every note that popped into his head, and that his lack of focus would eventually water down his impressive catalog of work.

Depending on your perspective, RnR and LIH accomplished just that. And depending on your sense of optimism (or lack thereof), the rumored three albums that Adams will release this year could only compound the problem. The first of these releases is no idle rumor but is in fact a double LP (naturally!) which features Adams’ latest mysterious band of collaborators The Cardinals. Drenched in pedal steel and female harmonies, Cold Roses certainly sounds like an attempt to revisit some of those Whiskeytown glory days. But buried beneath the obvious comparisons is Adams’ astonishingly confident songwriting that Adams aficionados will recognize as something that has evolved substantially over the past few years.

Cold Roses might be just another example of musical dress-up, but this suit hangs off Adams like it was made for him. Even at his best, Adams has never laid claim to striking originality. His strengths have always instead been defined by execution, and this work with The Cardinals represents one of his finest efforts yet. Despite spending quite a bit of time in Nashville, Adams has never assembled a band of players who could conjure the magic of Music City’s former glory – until now. Centered around the expert pedal steel of Cindy Cashdollar, The Cardinals achieve just this feat without squashing Adams’ unmistakable qualities. Thrown in for good measure are some of the holdover tendencies of Gold, such as extended and often inspired guitar solos. Indulgent? For sure. Pretty awesome? Arguably.