Ryan Adams will visit the Barrymore Theatre on Friday. It marks Adams’ first solo appearance in Madison, but, judging by the recent increase in his popularity, it is unlikely to be his last. Promoting his new album, Gold, Adams is also likely to pull out songs from his previous solo album, Heartbreaker, and his days with the now-defunct insurgent country group Whiskeytown, whose posthumous release Pneumonia also came out this year.
Adams, who seems comfortable performing everything from torchy ballads to Stones-esque rockers (like “Firecracker,” the best track from Gold), has consistently refused to allow himself to be hemmed in to any of the labels that have been tacked on to his name over the years. Although much of his material has a certain degree of the honky-tonk twang that was Whiskeytown’s original stock-and-trade, Adams has traced his roots back to both somewhat obvious influences like Neil Young or Bob Dylan and more obscure sonic ancestors; his documented affection for the music of Elton John springs to mind. His schizophrenic tastes are well-suited to the incredible proficiency with which he produces new material; counting Pneumonia, most of which was co-written by Adams, he has released three albums in one calendar year and apparently has more where they came from.
Gold is a perfect example of both these unique characteristics. The songs on the 75-minute album (which also comes in a limited edition with a five-song bonus disc) are a diverse and sometimes brilliant set of rockers, swingers and weepers. As far as the brilliant tracks, the aforementioned “Firecracker” shakes and pops, the piano ballad “Sylvia Plath” is surprisingly effective, “Tina Toledo’s Street-Walkin’ Blues” is a perfectly suitable beatnik boogie, and “La Cienega Just Smiled” is an aching ballad, allowing Adams’ angelic tenor to soar above the gentle arrangement.
Then there’s “New York, New York,” the rushing power-pop tune that opens the album; even though it’s a grudging lament over love lost, the tagline, “Hell, I still love you, New York” has helped the song become a celebratory anthem in the post-Sept. 11 world. The song (and video) have gotten Adams play on radio and television that most artists of his persuasion can only dream of; it’s fittingly ironic that this immensely talented songwriter has gained fame only through bizarre coincidence.
A lot of his other stuff is great, too. “To Be Young,” from Heartbreaker, his first solo album, is a rollicking boogie that might eventually be on every mix tape in existence. It should be, at least. “The Ballad of Carol Lynn,” the lead song on the final Whiskeytown album, is one of the best The Band songs that The Band never wrote; Adams’ sweet and vulnerable voice seems perfectly suited to these kinds of mid-tempo heartbreakers. Adam’s catalog is filled with them, and it will be interesting to see if his backing group, the Sweetheart Revolution, will yield a female vocal counterpart to equal Whiskeytown’s Caitlin Cary. Adams’ and Cary’s two-part harmony rivaled that of the great Gram Parsons-Emmylou Harris duets from the early 1970s. (This is only one of the 300 or so ways that Adams recalls Parsons, the father of “country rock” and one of the most under-appreciated songwriters to ever live.)
He’ll rock you, he’ll probably make you laugh, he might even make you cry. One thing is for certain: Ryan Adams already has one of rock’s deepest catalogues from which to choose, so anything’s possible.
