When the Music Don't Come No More You Shall Be Free

I realized last night that a week away from the new Ryan Adams release "III/IV", I have not started the hour by hour countdown, the scrambling for leaks and unreleased demos, my friends have not been bombarded with requests of a listening party. I for the first time since my onesided love affair  with Mr. Adams music began, have not ordered, the pre release with all the bells and whistles, I have not devoured every article talking about the record, I have not gone to the message boards to see what the latest information was. It simply lingers, a date December 14, 2010 that if on that day the mood strikes me, and if I have the extra cash I will buy the mp3 download, evaluate its worthiness and then decide on a purchase of the vinyl.

For so long, he has been my "it" my musical everything. Some people feel that way about Townes Van Zandt, Neil Young, Gram Parsons, for me it was Ryan Adams. He was the doorway the stepping stone into a world of music that I am incredibly grateful for.  My first two records were Heartbreaker and Pneumonia. I can't describe with out sounding overly dramatic and obssessed what these records mean to me. His records, have been living and breathing with me, they have grown and evolved for me, mainly because of my understanding of them has grown and evolved. I find myself to this day, learning things about songs that even a year ago I would have passed away or listened and hum my way  along, but not shut up and listen.

I have begun to realize that his greatness, may never be realized because some of his greatest work is lost and hung up in battles I presume with Lost Highway. That 48 hours and Suicide Handbook will never see a mass release and that I will never have the pleasure of having these two records on vinyl. That the Cowboy Techinical Sessions are just that sessions, even though the songs that were born are some of the most fascinating work. That he had to rewrite songs to get them out of these battles see "These Girls" formerly known as "Hey There Mrs. Lovely" and then the rewrite of "My Love For You Is Real"  were less than the original versions. That the original versions had so much spite and bitterness that just reverberates in your soul.  I can sit here and talk about the greatness of what was, the lines and the lyrics, and the theory of what the "rose" is and means. I could teach a college level class on these, and if I could get paid to do it I would. Instead my friends have to listen to it, and some still recieve Heartbreaker on vinyl as a Christmas present.

I found enough to like about Rock n Roll to keep me interested and I knew enough about it to speak of it as the joke record that it was meant to be, that it was something he needed to do. Love is Hell once it was released was redeeming enough to make me forget about the akwardness that was Rock n Roll and the relationship I had with it. I was back on the train and full speed ahead. I found myself falling off the train grasping to hold on shortly after Jacksonville City Nights, I understood the concept of 29, though the excecution of the record failed for me and if I am honest with myself that Cold Roses should have been one disc not the self indulgent two that it became. When Easy Tiger came, it lacked the ferocity of what I expected a record to be, when it became a starbucks pushed record, and when it started recieving airplay in department stores, I knew that we were on a slow decline.  Then came Cardinology that made Easy Tiger look genius. The two moments on this record were simply Fix It and Stop. 

It's heartbreaking to me that he has to be so far down, to be able to write a great song. I would never wish a relapse, or heartbreak upon someone, even if the results are so beautiful. I would rather say farewell, and I hope that he has all the happiness that he deserves. Everyone deserves to be happy and none of us should seek pleasure in the pain of others. So maybe he is free of the music, and that there is nothing left for him to write.