By Elliot Boswell
As one of the many people perpetually engaged in the ever-fruitless search for the next Bob Dylan, it's logical that I would have at some point pinned my hopes on North Carolina-native Ryan Adams.
Both are prolific, gifted songwriters with a distinctly American consciousness; both are temperamental, eccentric figures; and neither seem to care less about the quality of work they produce, or whether or not people like it.
With all this in mind, I was a little apprehensive about seeing him in concert. I had read a story of a drunk and belligerent Adams kicking some guy out of one of his shows for imploring him to play, "Summer of '69!" (Actually, that guy may have deserved it.)
When some of my friends saw him in August, my conception of him as a "loose cannon" was confirmed: Adams was a few cups too deep, played a mediocre set list, and spoke to his audience only to tell them to "shut the fuck up while we pick the next song." Nevertheless, my enthusiasm for his music had never waned, so I felt it was time to just shell out the 40 bucks for a ticket and take my chances.
The show was at the Paramount in Seattle, a venue that bears an eerie similarity to Portland's own Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. I had been there only once before and had been down in the pit; however, as a result of my wavering, the only tickets I could get were deep in the nosebleeds.
My brother and I sat down in a fast-filling theater, and I proceeded to check out the set. It consisted of four or five cut-out saguaro cacti against an illuminated, navy blue backdrop. It seemed to me to be something that Adams would do: use an iconic, American image so lazily that it becomes almost hilariously kitsch.
The festivities were scheduled to commence at 8 p.m. and at 8:02, Adams walked onstage in a pair of platform shoes that would have looked significantly less out of place on Baby Spice. I was surprised and delighted to find out that there was not going to be an opening band, for as much as I appreciate supporting up-and-coming artists, I was there to see Adams.
He and his backing band, the Cardinals, led off the set with "Bartering Lines" from Adams' solo debut "Heartbreaker" before moving into a fused version of "Peaceful Valley" off 2005's "Jacksonville City Nights" and "Mockingbird" from the double-disc "Cold Roses," also released in 2005.
This eclectic opening trio set the tone for the rest of the evening: Despite having released "Easy Tiger" over the summer and the "Follow the Lights EP" in October, Adams performed songs from seven different albums, with no more than six songs from any one album.
Like Dylan, Adams reworked a number of his songs from the ones that I had grown used to hearing. However, where you get the feeling that Dylan is trying to de-mythologize his songbook, Adams seemed merely to be bored of his existing arrangements: They remained highly melodic, but he would, say, take up a piano instead of a guitar, or perform gymnastics with one his vocal lines. He also proved to be a more accomplished guitarist than I thought, trading twangy, intertwined solos with the Cardinals' Neal Casal when not hunched over a piano.
The set was just under two hours long; standouts included, "The Sun Also Sets," "Oh, My Sweet Carolina," "Shakedown on 9th St." and the rolling "Let it Ride." Fortunately, Adams forsook his punkish, bawling albums in favor of his better, country-steeped work (thanks in no small part to the Americana sensibilities of the Cardinals, I suspect.)
Then he told us not to clap or chant or anything, that he was going to take a 15-minute break to rest his voice, and for us to go to the bathroom or get a drink in preparation for his encore. He returned with an eight-song set that held such gems as the brilliant, bitter "Come Pick Me Up" and such bores as the Alice-in-Chains cover "Down in a Hole" before ending with a distorted, ten-minute version of "Easy Plateau" that was closer to Sonic Youth than his usual Gram Parsons sound.
The brusque, moody singer-songwriter I had been expecting was nowhere to be found. Rather, Adams was funny and conversational, thanking the audience repeatedly, and even taking a break in the middle of the encore to direct a clip of us intoning, "like zombies" (his idea) "Cardinal powers unite!" for a YouTube video.
Would I see him again? He was socially amiable, musically sharp and played as good a set as any at a prime venue, so yes, I would take my chances with another show. Should you? Depends on how comfortable you are with the possibility of wasting $40 - just because I got lucky in attending one of his good nights doesn't mean it happens every time.
