Ryan Adams
Easy Tiger
(Lost Highway, 2007)

I suppose I could start this review by talking about the varying aspects of Ryan Adams’ exhaustive catalogue of music… and, then, what all the respective material means in the grand scope of space and time and the aqueducts there within his career. And then I could talk about where this one blip of an album resides amongst all of that. But, you know what? I don’t really feel like it. You can go read that somewhere else… probably everywhere else, in fact. The fact of the matter is that I woke up this morning feeling kind of shitty. Call it a cumulative thing. Nothing specific. And Ryan Adams’ Easy Tiger was a good album to put on and wade through the shit.

This record feels blithe, easy, even when we’re dealing with downtrodden matters. The simplicity of the music is a beauty of a backdrop for his disparate voice which carries me through track after heartfelt track. Oftentimes it’s these middle-of-the-road songs (considered throwaways by some folks) that are particularly soothing and familiar to me, where occasionally moments of brilliance shine through. I’m good with that, and I don’t know how much more I’m supposed to ask from someone who’s already given so much. To be brilliant all of the time at this pace would be ridiculous. His musical hooves might not be moving mountains, but the music here is still rife with a deluded sort of pain and passion… the kind of opaque emotion that was drowned too long in drink.

Easy Tiger is another Ryan Adams album that you can dance slow to or shed a tear in your beer to. Yes, on “Halloween Head” when he yells out “guitar solo!” there’s a moment there where we might roll our eyes. But, aside from that, I enjoyed visualizing “Halloween Head” as a metaphor for how one’s head feels after a hard night out on the town, scooped out and empty and a little demented looking. And, yes, Adams takes a lot of slack for making music that preys on the Middle American ethos of the working class down and out to prop it up as his “cool” factor as he fools around with shiny celebrities in downtown Manhattan bars. But while some hold that against him, I can’t. His roots are his roots regardless of where he’s been since, and I commend him for sticking to that which he clearly has a natural affinity for.

One thing worth mentioning on Easy Tiger is “Goodnight Rose”, a song which displays one thing in particular about Adams that I’ve come to appreciate. He can seemingly squeeze a ton of words into a place in a song where they probably shouldn’t have all gone… and he makes it work somehow. Just listen for it. This relatively small thing is important, in a way, because considering his output, it’s like he still has to find a way to cram everything in. He’s not going to edit himself. That speaks to a part of his persona, as the guy who overdoes it and flaunts it, and that’s been on public display for a long time now.

If I’m to talk about all of this Ryan Adams output, I’ll say that it weirdly comforts me. I guess it makes the haters suspicious of him… that he’s a hack. Eh, I don’t know that I care about that when I think about things this way: The worst Adams can do for the world of alt-country is better than what most others could do; and the best Adams can do is a lofty prize for the ears. The ease with which this whole process of quality versus quantity seems to come to him blankets my little world of adult quandaries with something that invariably speaks to consistency. For me, I can step into a new album of his knowingly, already adapted and get what I need out of it. He’s already achieved that. So, what else is left that he needs to improve upon, you know, other than his persona which can easily overshadow his work? If this record of original songs is akin to a greatest hits collection of his work, I see that as Adams nestling into a groove that he’s comfortable with. And, I get the feeling that is what Easy Tiger is supposed to be all about anyway.

Listen: Easy Tiger  [at muchmusic.com]