Ryan Adams, that maddening chameleon of a musician, apparently is leaving music for the indefinite future. The original blog posting, on his band the Cardinals' Web site, is taken down, but Pitchfork's report contains the important parts. "Maybe we will play again sometime and maybe I will work my way back into some kind of music situation," Adams wrote, "but this is the time for me to step back now, to reel it in and i wish everyone peace and happiness." He is now enthralled with writing and his first book will be published in April.
Whether this is true is uncertain -- Adams has certainly reneged on things he's said before -- but if it is, I'm as ambivalent as can be. His vocals and the general sound of his old band, Whiskeytown, always remind me of my sleepaway camp, in the most wistfully beautiful way possible: late summer nights, where the air is a little damp from the humidity, sweet from the grass and chalky from the dirt road, where you're not exactly sure what you want to do and while for now it feels great, you can't wait to get older and for things to get cooler. Those records, and the first few solo ones, have a lovesickness that is more genuine, if sometimes overwrought, than little else. It holds so much emotion sometimes it can't carry all of it.
And then, circa 2003, things went generally downhill, though I'll argue for the merits of "Cold Roses" and "Jacksonville City Nights." There were too many musical styles, too much ranting, too many drugs, too many serial but intensely committed relationships with women, which, while personal, are relevant because they became the subjects of albums. Behaviorally, he seemed to resent anyone who didn't confer greatness. Musically, too many songs were skeletons of songs, recorded and released prematurely. (In fact, the one time I mentioned him on this blog before, someone, perhaps paid to monitor insignificant blogs like mine, posted two relatively nasty comments in defense of Ryan Adams. Perhaps that person will return?) Much of "Easy Tiger," from 2007, fits this category, and I haven't bought the EP or LP released since. In fact, I've heard a couple of songs from "Cardinology" on a local college radio station and can barely listen past the first chorus. I'm slowly learning the value of realizing the first version of a song is never the best, but, unfortunately, I think Adams knows and ignores it.
It often seemed clear Adams wanted to find fame and then once he found it, if not the international household name kind, he realized he didn't want it and internal psychological debates played out in public. Somewhere along the way the music was lost and compromised (there's a reason this post follows one about the Go-Betweens), though also along the way and before that happened, a lot of wonderful music was released.
As mentioned above, I doubt Adams will never release music again -- remember when he apparently had four double albums to release after "Heartbreaker" and recorded a country version of "Is This It"? -- but if he doesn't, I'm OK with that. It's unfair to expect the artists we love to continue producing the same things they did four, eight or 18 years ago just because we loved how it was back then. However, when what we subjectively think the great ideas are run out, it's so hard to watch things keep going.
Here's something from the good times, a random performance of "Call Me on Your Way Back Home":
Update: Pitchfork reports Ryan Adams is releasing another EP. So much for that self-imposed hiatus. Why did I become so nostalgic and reflective? I refuse to admit the post was a waste, though. Maybe Adams' deeply romantic relationship with Mandy Moore inspired him to record again? Wait, they're engaged? Huh? This makes no sense.
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