A couple of years ago, following the release of his debut solo album, Heartbreaker, people began calling Ryan Adams “the new Dylan.” Heard that one before? Within a year he was demoted to “The New Boss” (See the album cover for Gold). Had the Mellencamp thing been brought up, it surely would’ve been the death rattle of Adams’ career.
After a few shelved albums, a collection of demos and a Bryan Adams joke gone wrong, Ryan completed his new album, Love is Hell. Legend has it, Lost Highway wasn’t looking for love, or musings concerning the issue. Adams was supposed to be a star, and Love wasn’t what he needed. Instead he recorded his latest album, Rock N Roll, in two weeks, gave it to the label and released it the same day as his downplayed Love is Hell Pt.1.
Where Rock N Roll found beauty in hating itself, Love examines its own phenomenon of fighting to the end, or, in this case, until Pt. 2 comes out. The first half of the Love album sees eight tracks of courtly poetry set to elaborate, delicate melodies chiefly inspired by Jeff Buckley’s Grace. This is, without a doubt, nothing close to the Dylan-Boss-Mellencamp genre. Love sees Adams paying homage to his favorite band, The (painfully ironic) Smiths, and goes to the extent of using Meat is Murder-famed producer John Porter. Adams knows that he can’t be as funny as Morrissey, but on Love he attempts to be as sad, cynical, and suicidal as The Moz often seemed.
Rumored to originally carry the title of The Suicide Handbook, Love feels like the first week of lost love, that time where an hour feels like a year and the phone just won’t ring. Arguably his most powerful writing to date, Adams sings, “I could be serious, but I’m just kidding around. / I could be anything, anything but sticking around.” Moving around the country, starting band after band and often immersing himself in relationships, Adams chooses to explore every second of his life (see “Firecracker”). Hitting the world head-on with everything he’s got has likely led Adams to one thing: pain. He expects a lot out of his life and through his gift of passion manages to put his soul into each of his albums.
This time around, we aren’t getting the love head on Gold; we’re getting the other side of the story, the frustration. Any close follower of Adams’ career knows how fragile he is at heart, and Love documents our hero wearing his pain on his sleeve for the world to see.
The new musical direction heard on Love may throw Adams’ fans off at first. Housing a slew of powerhouse songs, Love becomes essential despite it’s faults (see “Wonderwall”). How a label can refuse to put out music as masterful as Love is baffling; it’s dangerous to be this sad in both life and (in Lost Highway’s case) in business. If nothing else, get Love for a perfect picture of the edge. Next time you’re heartbroken, Love will be right there with you.
Copyright 2004 Ad Media Inc.