Kcor Anera (Translation: Arena Rock)
Ryan Adams’ music serves two distinct purposes:
1] To fill large venues
2] To make thirteen-year-old girls squeal
It is Arena Rock, pure and simple. Itâ€šÃ„Ã´s like Guns N Roses minus the spandex, big hair, and Axleâ€šÃ„Ã´s screechy voice. This is the kind of catchy-riffed music heard at sports gamesâ€šÃ„Â¶ football halftime, hockey bleachers, etc. Itâ€šÃ„Ã´s loud. Itâ€šÃ„Ã´s fast. Itâ€šÃ„Ã´ll make you want to get drunk. The band is the same â€šÃ„Ãºguitar + bass + drums + singerâ€šÃ„Ã¹ equation, which most of the time is at least acceptable, when musicians switch effects on their guitars, changing the time signature of the pieces, etc. Adams does none of this. The music has too much feedback and one drumbeat looped throughout the entire album music; it could have been ripped off from a beer or car commercial. The songs all sound the same, which could be construed as a good flow to the record, but doesnâ€šÃ„Ã´t quite work for him since nothing dynamic happens through the duration of the piece. As for Adamsâ€šÃ„Ã´ voice, heâ€šÃ„Ã´s trying to utilize a range he just doesnâ€šÃ„Ã´t have, which can make him sound like Chris Isaac with the stomach flu.
It’s apparent that Adams is trying formulas which have been proven to be successful in the past, but, unless he measures success solely in record sales and â€šÃ„ÃºRock Star Sellout Flavor of the Weekâ€šÃ„Ã¹ status, they will not work for him in the long run. There is nothing about this album that will make you want to continue to listen to it, and in turn, remember him in a month. Heâ€šÃ„Ã´ll be on VH1â€šÃ„Ã´s â€šÃ„ÃºWhere Are They Now?â€šÃ„Ã¹ show in a year or two (if he even reaches the level of fame that garners an episode).