Ryan Adams & The Cardinals

Cardinology

Ryan Adams’ tenth proper studio album, Cardinology, is, at least in theory, a more developed version of last year’s Easy Tiger, an album that at times felt a little too lean in the instrumentation department (though otherwise almost perfect as far as pre-adult poppy Americana goes). Easy Tiger comes out, however, the prettier of these sleepy pseudo-country sisters, if only for its better hooks and stronger tracklist. For starters, Cardinology’s “Cobwebs” is Adams’ most impossible listen since “Jesus (Don’t Touch My Baby),” even for longtime fans who enjoy the sometimes embarrassingly brooding Love Is Hell. Adams, one of the best songwriters of this decade, endlessly singing the lyric “Will you confuse my love for the cobwebs?” marks the low point of his career. It’s just plain bad writing and artistry, something that can’t be said about any of his previous properly released work.

The other five songs on Cardinology’s first half are high quality. There’s opener “Born Into a Light,” a soulful Cold Roses-worthy slow rocker that burns like an early morning hangover of memories; there’s “Go Easy,” a formulaic, but affective, dose of pseudo-Southern pop that could’ve been on Easy Tiger; there’s “Fix It,” a song that appears to be Adams’ attempt to meld blues-y Americana soul with an All That You Can’t Leave Behind-styled hook; there’s “Magick,” a lovable (and cocksure) rocker not at all unlike previous Adams’ songs “This Is It” and “Halloweenhead” in their instant bravado and accessibility; and, lastly, there’s the stunning “Let Us Down Easy,” which, as most of Adams’ best songs do, evokes a classic, timeless feel of breezy, soulful, thoughtful American songwriter rock. Spider phlegm aside, the first six tunes make for his best single side since side three of Cold Roses. Both “Let Us Down Easy” and “Born Into a Light” are two of Adams’ best tunes; the combo alone should solidify a purchase for fans.

But then there’s the back half of this oh so ugly-covered record. These six songs, though not necessarily bad, overshadow the record’s promising start with their “Dad Rock” tendencies and — at least for Adams — overly pondered arrangements and playing. “Crossed Out Name,” which kicks off side two, is the album’s most effectively underbaked (and best) song — a treat, really, amongst this batch of tunes Adams’ recorded with The Cardinals. Good enough, but then comes the downright awful “Natural Ghost,” which at first sounds like a late-era Counting Crows stinker before fumbling into the most embarrassing hook ever, or at least since a little tune called “Cobwebs” came into existence. The playing here, and everywhere on Cardinology, is very good, very clean and very sober, surely — but hey, this is the snaggletoothed, Black Flag-tattooed, cocky-lipped country bear who once recorded crass punk records as The Finger — bright eyes and lover boy looks be damned. Again, being an Adams fan takes patience and pints of tolerance for restless artistry.

Overall, the songs that work work well, despite maybe a little too much production. The songs that may have otherwise passed by on charm or Adams’ lyrics, coupled with the way-too-perfect production, just don’t make the cut. Too clean. Too damn adult and too damn vanilla. “Sink Ships,” another back-half stink fest, will have ears skipping back to track one, back to that killer first half. One major standout on the back half is “Like Yesterday,” which, if we also count “Crossed Out Name” and most of the first half, rounds up what could’ve been a well written — albeit overly crafted — EP-of-the-decade candidate. Hell, throw in the sparse closer, “Stop,” and we have a mini-album that could rank amongst the man’s best. In summary, Cardinology is a good album and a grower. A grower, surely, but only because Adams’ new sober penchant for as-perfect-as-possible music leaves little room for the instantly interesting personality and quirks of all his best work. (Greg Locke)

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