Warm-up to 'Cold Roses'

Ryan Adams' (mis)casting of himself is almost impressive in its range. \nFive years ago, after a rousing solo start with alt-country release Heartbreaker, 2003's Rock N Roll was Adams' attempt, for better or worse, at a Bon Jovi-ified, utterly alive rock n' roll record. An appropriate title could've been Ryan Adams Apes the Foo Fighters, Etc. The Love is Hell LP, released immediately thereafter and sounding exceptionally different, found Adams channeling Brit-poppers Oasis, Thom York, Jeff Buckley and U2. With Cold Roses, Adams -- more country music's Johnny Rotten than Dylan-esque anything -- has crafted a lovelorn album that strays back to his changelessly classical-country roots while sparing the Toby Keith-era clichés. \nCold Roses -- 18 tracks, 76 minutes long—is stretched across two discs. However, compared with Adams' history of put-it-all-on-there, unedited "max"imalism, it's a congruent album to put on and leave on, similar to 1970s progressive-Americana old-timers like the Grateful Dead, to whom the cover art and yodelay-ing Jerry Garcia vocals pay tribute. Adams' backing band the Cardinals -- which includes JP Bowersock, the man credited with coaching The Strokes -- does a fine job throughout the work and are responsible for Cold Roses' varnished finish. Without the Cardinals on this album, Adams would parallel Dave Matthews without his band: not so good.\nDisc one's pacing resides mid-tempo while disc two, to the contrary, unearths much more rambling guitar man in Adams. The only track that feels out of place is the first disc's "Beautiful Sorta," a monotone, repetitive skirt song with John Lennon-like call outs. "When Will You Come Back Home" has the feel of a road trip with James Taylor performing a tune in the passenger seat. "Cherry Lane" could've been picked from the Grateful Dead's set list, and its building refrain caters to the Damien Rice crowd. The next track, "Mockingbird," delivers Langston Hughes-esque laments like, "Mockingbird sing / Sing me what the Lord was singing on the day he made the water the color of the blues."\nPerhaps Cold Roses most notable achievement is that its cushioned slackness allows Adams, surrounded by great expectation and hype, to once again continue sharpening his grasp of a not-yet steely American type -- the guy with horn-rimmed glasses who skipped Whiskeytown (his former band), released five solo albums since 2000 while having flings with Winona Ryder, money, modishness and hype, among others, and then let loose Cold Roses, a suitable staging post in the young artist's headlong career. Adams has a ways to go, but until his next two LPs, Jacksonville City and 29 are released this fall, I can't wait.