Hailed universally as an Alt.Country saviour/superstar since the release of this album last Autumn,RYAN ADAMS has made a record that’s found house room with a good many of you over the past pregnant nine months, so by now your opinions of it are no doubt already firmly ingrained.
However, seeing as “Gold”s been undergoing heavy rotation round here for yonks and whisperinandhollerin hadn’t actually come into being at the time it hit the racks, we thought a little perspective might be valuable now the hysteria’s died down somewhat.
Basically, I come to praise “Gold” rather than bury it, although there are certain aspects of the hype surrounding Mr. Adams that do bring this writer out in a rash: not least the fawning sycophancy he’s attracting (not entirely his fault) and the ridiculous ELTON JOHN friendship (very much his fault), which – even if it is genuine – still makes this reviewer want to grab RYAN and scream “Get a grip, man!” Oh, then there’s all that spurious crap about him covering THE STROKES album. To that, I say simply Just. Fuck. Right. Off.
However, “Gold” itself is an extremely enjoyable one-hour plus, featuring 16 songs of which half are…yeah, excellent. It must be said, mind, that like a certain Mr. N. Gallagher, ADAMS can’t resist the temptation to (creatively) pilfer in a very barefaced fashion.
Let’s face it, “Gold” positively haemorrhages influences. “Firecracker” comes on like an amalgam of several BOB DYLAN tunes from his wired, mid-‘60s period; “Answering Bell” cribs the accent from THE BAND’S “The Weight”; “Touch And Feel And Lose” wets itself grasping for the astronomical heights of SAM COOKE and OTIS REDDING and “Tina Toledo’s Street Walking Blues” does such a perfect Dolly the Sheep cloning job on THE STONES’ “Exile On Main Street” it’s virtually impossible to spot the join. Indeed, the way ADAMS hollers: “Money, money in the bank” in the chorus almost out-Lucifers JAGGER himself.
Fortunately, the strength of ADAMS’ songwriting ability often (not always) transcends this, and certainly a song like the wide-eyed rush of “New York, New York” is hopelessly addictive and a classic to boot. Likewise the pretty, acoustic “When The Stars Go Blue” – aided and abetted by BUCKY BAXTER’S pedal steel – and the twin, ah, heartbreakers (sorry) “Harder Now That It’s Over” and “La Cienega Just Smiled”. This latter actually commits a rather more subconscious sonic steal as the guitar break on the outro is, curiously, a ringer for the solo in NEW ORDER’S “Age Of Consent.”?!?
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It’s not brilliance all the way, mind, and this writer finds “Somehow, Someday” merely average US MOR; “Nobody Girl” far too ponderous to get to the point and the string-drenched “SYLVIA PLATH” too mawkish and precious by half, though as this latter is soon followed by the likes of the coy “Gonna Make You Love Me” and the aforementioned “Harder Now That It’s Over”, this cushions the blow somewhat.
Although it’s cynical to suggest it, this writer can’t help feeling RYAN ADAMS has garnered at least a modicum of praise as a direct result of the 9/11 fallout as the press suddenly required a new blue-collar hero to champion and help normalise the situation. Again, this is hardly ADAMS’ own fault and – while this reasoning may sound harsh – bear in mind I do think large chunks of “Gold” are terrific when separated from the media circus.
As to ADAMS being Alt. Country’s first superhero…yeah, that’s credible enough. Indubitably, his songs here are big enough and have enough universal appeal to connect, unlike people such as THE HANDSOME FAMILY, JEFF TWEEDY and JAY FARRAR, who – despite being bigger talents in this writer’s eyes – probably will never fluke more than good size cult audiences.
In summation, then: Is RYAN ADAMS Rock’s new messiah? Don’t make me laugh. Is he Alt. Country’s Pin-Up Boy? Much more likely. Is “Gold” a cool, if flawed album? Without question.
Hope that’s not too much fucking perspective for ya.
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