Live Review: Arctic Monkeys, Twin Peaks at Chicago’s The Riviera (9/23) – Just that ol’ time rock ‘n’ roll.

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September 23, 2013

Chicago’s archaic Riviera Theatre had its foundations rocked Monday night by two-and-a-half hours of loud, unapologetic rock ‘n’ roll from local favorites and recent CoSigned rockers Twin Peaks and the ever reliable Arctic Monkeys.

Tearing through favorites off their debut album, Sunken, Twin Peaks looked like they couldn’t be having more fun, business as usual for the teenage four piece. During blitzed out tracks like “Boomers” and “Natural Villain”, frontman Cadien Lake James controlled the venue with ease, gathering instrumental support from bandmates Jack Dolan, Clay Frankel, and Connor Brodner. The Chicago DIY scene has been and should continue to pay close attention to these guys.

Bathed in blue light, the UK foursome emerged from the sides of the stage, hands raised in the air to thank the packed house for coming out to party. Sticking mostly to newer and slower material off AM, the show had its lulls but also highlighted their new directions, specifically the album’s hip-hop drum beats and gritty desert rock influences. Of course, the biggest reaction was to the opening chords of “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor”, a nostalgic cut that left the entire venue in the air.

Following slower cuts like Humbug single “Cornerstone” and AM’s “No. 1 Party Anthem”, the jumbly “Fluorescent Adolescent” brought the mood back into a swing, which helped grease up the eccentric funk of “Knee Socks”. As expected, the band waved their goodbyes, acting like a three song encore wasn’t about to happen. Nobody was fooled, the band played three more (two of them from AM, no less), and then it was really over. The number of fans that stayed hoping for another encore said plenty of the night’s success.

Setlist:
Do I Wanna Know?
Brianstorm
Dancing Shoes
Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair
Teddy Picker
Crying Lightning
Snap Out of It
Evil Twin
Old Yellow Bricks
Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?
Arabella
Pretty Visitors
I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor
Cornerstone
No. 1 Party Anthem
Fluorescent Adolescent
Knee Socks
Encore:
One for the Road
Do Me a Favour
R U Mine?

Tom Petty & His Heartbreakers Rock NYC’s Beacon Theater

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Live Review: Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers – Beacon Theater NYC

20 May 2013

Petty’s voice is still a wonder. At 62, he sings as smoothly and sleekly as ever, but he also packs enough punch to bring the anguish of “Woman in Love (It’s Not Me)” home.

Imagine Tom Petty and his Heartbreakers drop a new LP, and it’s just killer. Not just “killer” in that Echo or Mojo way, as in a killer document of a killer band doing what it was hatched to do. I mean in that Wildflowers or Full Moon Fever way, that damn near universal way, the songs so urgent with defiant life they could haul you up out of a coma. Imagine Tom Petty puts out a new record so vital and affecting that it would be adored by anyone who has ever before liked a Tom Petty song, even just “Free Fallin.'”

Now ask yourself, “How would anyone ever hear it?”

There’s nothing new about rock and rollers touring on long after they’ve outlived their hitmaking potential. What is new is the bewildering fact that still-significant artists like Petty or Springsteen have somehow outlived their own radio formats. You can still hear “Wildflowers” on Classic Rock, on those playlists that the wooly mammoths grooved to as the tar bubbled up around them, but if there were a new song that sounded like “Wildflowers” the only stations on terrestrial radio that might possibly play it would have to label it country. In fact, country already has a “Wildflowers”: Brad Paisley’s “Ticks,” which cops to ripping off Petty right there in the chorus.

Petty made sure nobody mistook anything in the first of his four Beacon Theatre shows (we’ll be back tonight, too) for Nashville. He opened with a good hour of album tracks as swampy and fucked-up as the Northern Florida he hails from, searching, bruised-up rockers like “Love Is a Long Road,” “A Woman in Love (It’s Not Me)” and “Fooled Again (I Don’t Like It).” Maybe he figures if radio won’t play him now, he may as well play the ones it wouldn’t even play back in the day. What would you do if in 15 years you somehow went from top-of-the-world rock star to Wynton Marsalis-like practitioner of an un-commercial art?

Deep cuts that cut deep, last night’s long run of dirges laid bare the early Heartbreakers’ true place in rock history: the exact middle ground between the ’70s studio-slick southern rock and the desperate blurt of the punk to come. “I don’t like it!” Petty yowled, on record and at the Beacon, the words hocked up out of his chest. Folks hoping for “Don’t Come Around Here No More” might have shouted the same.

And all that was before lead guitar hero Mike Campbell uncorked the soaring hurt of his lead line on “Good Enough,” off 2010’s cock-rocking Mojo, the swampiest of all this swamp rock, a strangled White Album-style blues as soaked though with humid misery as the cottonballs of a St. Louis grandmother used to wedge into the holes in her screen door each summer. Like much of that first hour, this was superb if you like this kind of thing.

Three songs in Petty half apologized for all the heartache, and he even offered up an ace “Won’t Back Down” as a sop to the Greatest Hits crowd. But make no mistake: There was no oversized novelty Mad Hatter headgear coming. During a soupy space jam deep into “Mr. Tweeter and the Monkey Man”– yes, the Traveling Wilburys slog he co-wrote with Bob Dylan — there was plenty of time to wonder at the impossible number of fucks that Petty does not give. You know all that dark matter scientists can’t find even though it makes up most of the mass of the universe? It’s nothing but those fucks.

Petty’s in fine voice — he still sounds like a cartoon sheep imitating a southern Bob Dylan — but even finer iconoclasm. The mood lightened, at last, 11songs in with a tempered, unplugged “Rebels,” a new arrangement touched with Sunday morning, followed by low-key string-band charmers “To Find a Friend” and “Angel Dream.” (Plus a hymn-like cover of Little Feat’s “Willin,'” honeyed up by Scott Thurston’s back-up vocals.)

Those were grand but topped by “Melinda,” a better Dylan song than the one he wrote with Dylan. Powered along by Campbell’s electric mandolin, this spare, rollicking, haunted original (only available on Petty’s excellent The Live Anthology) could pass for a cover of some long-gone folk song — a cover that builds into Bad Plus-style piano/drums not-quite-jazz ensemble-jamming mayhem from Benmont Tench and Steve Ferrone.

Hits “Refugee,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” and “American Girl” seemed to win back crowd members who had drifted; the Heartbreakers bashed out the latter two songs with speed and fire enough to convince us that they still find something new in them, that the music is something these guys still make together rather than something they just perform night after night.

Gnomic, cheerful Petty didn’t say much. His run of Beacon Shows won’t be for everyone, but they are for him, and his band, and for anyone eager to be reminded that the genial stoner of “Last Dance With Mary Jane” is still that same scrappy, indomitable Gainseville kid, the one with a screaming guitar and a world to defy.

Music video by Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers performing Mary Jane’s Last Dance. (C) 1993 Geffen Records. Watch official video below.

© 2006 WMG
You Don’t Know How It Feels – Watch Video Version below.

Runnin’ Down A Dream is a 2007 documentary film about Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, directed by Peter Bogdanovich. The 4-hour documentary chronicles the history of the band, from its inception as Mudcrutch, right up to the 30th-anniversary concert in Petty’s home town of Gainesville, Florida, on September 21, 2006, at the Stephen C. O’Connell Center, University of Florida. The film features interviews with George Harrison, Eddie Vedder, Stevie Nicks, Dave Grohl, Jeff Lynne, Rick Rubin, Johnny Depp, Jackson Browne and more. Petty’s solo career is also touched on, as is his time with The Traveling Wilburys.

Tom Petty’s Career on Film: Watch the Trailer for “Runnin’ Down a Dream” below.

Ryan Bingham – Live Review @ Scala London

16 November 2012

Ryan Bingham is the real deal – raised in a roadhouse brothel in New Mexico, he was riding rodeo south of the Mexican frontier by the age of five. I first saw him play in a small town in Texas, with a former dope-smuggling rancher friend of mine who gave Bingham his first real break by writing about him for a local cowboy music magazine.

Bingham went on to be a poster boy for American roots music, winning an Oscar, a Grammy and Golden Globe for his contribution to the Crazy Heart soundtrack, which in turn secured him status as darling of the Nashville music scene, and an album produced by T-Bone Burnett. I was expecting – and dreading – that his second UK tour might involve the O2.

Phew. Bingham seems to have renounced much of what was on offer, to the bewilderment of American reviewers who worry that “political statements” might “jeopardise his career”. Having left Burnett, his record label and studio, Bingham appeared in London with a band paying respect to his cowboy-rock roots. The musicians were happiest when off the leash, delivering polished but tempestuous rock’n’roll to drive Bingham’s songs on an insurgent new album – searing indictments of unjust and divided America, whether Obama won or not.

Of course, Bingham played to the crowd with his Oscar-winning The Weary Kind by way of an encore, and what has become a rollicking all-American favourite, Southside of Heaven. But the core of the set was his unrelenting Hard Times, which we should now see as having been the shape of things to come when it featured on early tours. The evening had hardly begun when we hit Western Shore, dedicated to “all the homeless kids living in streets and alleys, and I guess you have that here too”.

Those of us who already knew Flower Bomb, and its comfortless sketch of mass unemployment, hunger and medication for stress, did not necessarily know it had been inspired by Banksy’s mural of a boy throwing the same – it was sung with that raw voice Bingham has perfected, the sandpaper edge now turned to gravel and dust.

If he owed his early style to Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie, he seems recently to have consulted Rage Against the Machine, but with a smile as well as a scowl. Post-Oscar success, Bingham emerges on this tour not as the rising star mainstream America planned him to be, but something far more compelling: a counter-star, a truly great rock protest singer.

DPT: ‘Flower Bomb’ by Ryan Bingham (Live, Acoustic & HD)

Ed Vulliamy

The Black Keys – Live Review (Arena, Nottingham)

Enormous beats … Patrick Carney of the Black Keys on the opening night of their UK tour at Arena, Nottingham. Photo: Ollie Millington/Redferns

Arena, Nottingham

5 February 2012

If you were to attempt to design a band guaranteed to be unsuccessful, you might come up with the Black Keys. From unfashionable Akron, Ohio, they are a guitar-based band when guitar music is supposedly going the way of the dodo. The White Stripes last popularised their particular format – a guitar/drums garage-rock duo – a decade ago, when Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney started out playing to eight people. Two casually dressed dudes in their thirties, they are not archetypal pop stars.

However, 2010’s Brothers album and the recent El Camino have made them one of the biggest bands in the world. On the way, they have broadened their sound, giving their original swampy punk a sparkling new coat. Although Auerbach’s vocals are slightly distorted, like an old blues holler, they’ve turned an old-fashioned sound into something timeless, or at least retro-modern. Run Right Back and Dead and Gone are stomping, hi-tech northern soul; Gold on the Ceiling could be the Stooges’ guitarist James Williamson playing hip-hop with the Glitter Band.

The unassuming pair don’t say much beyond: “That’s Patrick on drums. My name’s Dan.” Instead, Auerbach whistles, shakes his maracas and on Ten Cent Pistol manages to mimic a mature black American female soul singer. Three additional musicians add splashes of bass and keyboards; the Keys revert to a duo to play skuzzier early material and emphasise their core strengths. Auerbach fires off Hendrix-style riffs at will, while Carney’s enormous beats belie his origins as a geeky indie kid into the Feelies. To see the gangly, bespectacled drummer whacking hell out of his kit feels as odd as watching Jarvis Cocker attempt the 1,500 metres.

But while he proves a visual spectacle, the stars here are the songs. Lonely Boy (with its big fat T Rex riff), I Got Mine and the rest seem to locate an imaginary button that makes grown adults want to play air guitar and perform drum patterns on their knees. As Nottingham roars its approval, it’s another fine victory for pop’s unlikely lads.

© 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.

Live Review: The xx at Los Angeles’ Fonda Theatre (7/23)

Live Review: The xx at Los Angeles’ Fonda Theatre (7/23)
COS – July 24th, 2012

When The xx released their self-titled debut in 2009, the UK trio became auteurs of their class. Deemed as “hipster party music”, as melancholic and romantic and sorrowful, their music cascaded across genres and innately fit the dynamism of our age. And so it’s the mystery of The xx – the androgyny of Romy Madley Croft, the solemnity of Jamie Smith, and the sensuality of Oliver Sim – that led up to last night’s performance at The Fonda Theatre, that monolith of old Hollywood charm. With its sweeping, dramatic ceilings and a quirky, sometimes odd, LA crowd, it was a scene befitting the craze and rumors around The xx’s first stop on their US tour to promote the September 11th release of their sophomore album from XL Recordings, Coexist.

When The xx released their self-titled debut in 2009, the UK trio became auteurs of their class. Deemed as “hipster party music”, as melancholic and romantic and sorrowful, their music cascaded across genres and innately fit the dynamism of our age. And so it’s the mystery of The xx – the androgyny of Romy Madley Croft, the solemnity of Jamie Smith, and the sensuality of Oliver Sim – that led up to last night’s performance at The Fonda Theatre, that monolith of old Hollywood charm. With its sweeping, dramatic ceilings and a quirky, sometimes odd, LA crowd, it was a scene befitting the craze and rumors around The xx’s first stop on their US tour to promote the September 11th release of their sophomore album from XL Recordings, Coexist.

Openers HAIM – three sisters from the Valley, barely legal in ragged cutoffs and other handmade wares – are already listed as rising stars on sites like Stereogum and Vogue. There’s Alana, the youngest at 19, on vocals, keys, and maracas; Danielle, 22, lead vocals and guitar; and Este, the oldest at 24, shredding it on bass guitar. Danielle was reminiscent of a young Patti Smith, her voice poetic and precocious, ripping apart the vocals on tunes like “Go Slow” from their recently released EP, Forever. The highlight of the Haim sisters’ performance was the last song of their set, “Let Me Go”. It concluded with all three banging on individual bongo drums with drum sticks, building to a delightful crescendo. It was unexpected, it was triumphant – it was metal.

After a brief set by Jacques Greene, the lights darkened once more and a marbled, luminescent “X” lit up the drawn stage curtain. The audience roared. Almost immediately, the curtain collapsed, revealing The xx onstage, traced like black blocks in a marine sea of light. They started with “Angels”, their widely publicized single from Coexist, but soon transitioned into a long stream of songs from xx. “Crystalized” was slowed and stripped down, more of a meditative poem than a song, while “Fantasy” was one of the stand out performances of the night.

When The xx released their self-titled debut in 2009, the UK trio became auteurs of their class. Deemed as “hipster party music”, as melancholic and romantic and sorrowful, their music cascaded across genres and innately fit the dynamism of our age. And so it’s the mystery of The xx – the androgyny of Romy Madley Croft, the solemnity of Jamie Smith, and the sensuality of Oliver Sim – that led up to last night’s performance at The Fonda Theatre, that monolith of old Hollywood charm. With its sweeping, dramatic ceilings and a quirky, sometimes odd, LA crowd, it was a scene befitting the craze and rumors around The xx’s first stop on their US tour to promote the September 11th release of their sophomore album from XL Recordings, Coexist.

Openers HAIM – three sisters from the Valley, barely legal in ragged cutoffs and other handmade wares – are already listed as rising stars on sites like Stereogum and Vogue. There’s Alana, the youngest at 19, on vocals, keys, and maracas; Danielle, 22, lead vocals and guitar; and Este, the oldest at 24, shredding it on bass guitar. Danielle was reminiscent of a young Patti Smith, her voice poetic and precocious, ripping apart the vocals on tunes like “Go Slow” from their recently released EP, Forever. The highlight of the Haim sisters’ performance was the last song of their set, “Let Me Go”. It concluded with all three banging on individual bongo drums with drum sticks, building to a delightful crescendo. It was unexpected, it was triumphant – it was metal.

After a brief set by Jacques Greene, the lights darkened once more and a marbled, luminescent “X” lit up the drawn stage curtain. The audience roared. Almost immediately, the curtain collapsed, revealing The xx onstage, traced like black blocks in a marine sea of light. They started with “Angels”, their widely publicized single from Coexist, but soon transitioned into a long stream of songs from xx. “Crystalized” was slowed and stripped down, more of a meditative poem than a song, while “Fantasy” was one of the stand out performances of the night.

The night’s wealth of Coexist material was quite impressive, particularly “Reunion”, “Sunset”, and “Swept Away”. The songs are still concerned with The xx’s traditional themes (e.g. love, devotion, jealousy, heartbreak, regret), but they take the band’s characteristically catchy harmonic riffs and pair them with upbeat dance rhythms. It’s nothing too flashy, but rather in the style of post-dubstep and underground club artists, of lounge tempo.

The moods tied with their latest material are inciting, rather than subdued, similar to past tracks like “Islands” and “Basic Space”. And with their epic, sailing guitar riffs that rear from spacey harmonic drifts to whale calls, they effectively painted the night sensual. Croft and Sim’s style of singing back and forth in an electronic, elusive duet lends as much intrigue as the music itself, and in the end, it seemed as if the overwhelming amount of couples in the crowd were there to feast on the pair’s chemistry as much as the music.

Setlist:
Angels
Islands
Heart Skipped a Beat
Fiction
Basic Space
Crystalized
Fantasy
Shelter
Infinity
VCR
Reunion
Sunset
Night Time
Swept Away

Ryan Adams Live – Review

Ryan Adams Live
By Anthony Kuzminski

Cadillac Palace, Chicago, IL – December 11th, 2011

“He may not be the Ryan Adams I imagined back in 2001, but he’s without question the Ryan Adams that he was always meant to be.”

“This concert is a prelude to pizza”, Ryan Adams told in a wry deadpan manner to the sold-out Chicago crowd on a wintry December evening. Right from the introduction, Adams appeared to be in high spirits which he channeled rapaciously through his voice and guitar.

The shows for Adams current solo tour are more than splendid performances but arguably the most invigorating and spot on performances of his career.

In the not too distant past, there were numerous people who looked to Ryan Adams to be more than just “Ryan Adams”. They had titanic hopes for him, wanting him to ascend to the rock throne previously inhabited by the likes of Townshend, Springsteen and Dylan but Adams confounded them by releasing record after record with little or no thought to old school marketing strategies and concert performances. This infuriated many, but maybe it was because we were trying to shackle him into what we wanted instead of letting him become who he is?

Inside the Cadillac Palace Theater in Chicago, it wasn’t an arena rock spectacle but simply a man, a pair of guitars, a piano, a notebook and a soul wanting to break through and articulate itself.
It may not have been what those record executives wanted but what I saw was an artist who has never been more relaxed in his own shoes than at this very moment.

I’ve said it before and will say it again; it’s wrong to want so much from music. Those of us who are scholars of the art want it to transcend boundaries, penetrate young minds with radical ideas and ultimately revolutionize the world. We want grand Beatles-esque achievements, but are we right?

The Ryan Adams I saw on the Chicago stage was full of wit, charm and in possession of some of the most gorgeous songs composed over the last dozen years. There’s a refined splendor to Adam’s lyrics few can touch; Bob Dylan, Patti Griffin and maybe a handful of others. He paints the most magnificent pictures and is able to draw us into his world as he did during what I feel what may be his best tour to date.

Opening with the Heartbreaker cut “Oh My Sweet Carolina” Adams dug deep into a solemn prayer like trance where nary a pin drop could be heard. For the next 135-minutes, he kept the concentration up despite the fact that there was no backing band. On a dimly lit stage with an acoustic and harmonica around his neck, he sung lyrics so visceral and dreamy they literally cut one from their life and place them in a Terrence Malick film.

“Ashes & Fire”, “If I Am A Stranger” and “Carolina Rain” proved that sometimes it’s the soft spoken songs that can open eyes because the picturesque the lyrics cut right through you. “Dirty Rain” is lyrically evocative, emotionally wrenching and finding exhilarated mental state in life’s simplicities. Whether it is nature or the simple spinning of a record, Adams beautifully weaves these tales that take you and transport you in a time machine to precise situations from our past. He reminds us of the good and bad and as a result, we feel tapped into the heartbeat of life.

This was the first time where Adams dug deep into the entire breadth of his career, going as far back to Whiskeytown all the way through Ashes and Fire.

In the past, he has tended to draw his set from a two year window of his latest material. There’s nothing wrong with this as it illuminated much of his 2005 output when I saw him in 2007, making me take in the loveliness of these records I had not previously recognized. However, as much as artists strive forward hoping to leave their past in the dust, it’s always there in the rearview mirror haunting and taunting them. The same could be said of our past where we’re never truly free or at peace until we embrace it.

The most spectacular facet of Ryan Adams at this moment in time is that he doesn’t appear to be running from his past but rather acknowledging it as a foundation from which he’s still building on to this very day. He didn’t glide through the old numbers either, but they were enlivening performances brimming with the same emotional euphoria and turmoil Adams is best known for.

The towering Gold album opener, “New York, New York” has transformed into a somber piano ballad as did “My Blue Manhattan” where Adams voice soared. The forward momentum of his strumming and the terse strumming made “Chains of Love” a standout for more than the Danzig mentions that preceded the performance which houses indelible Ryan Adams lyrics and a wholly contagious melody. It’s possibly the best cut on Ashes & Fire. “Crossed Out Name” featured a punctured and staggering strumming. On “Firecracker” the harmonica danced along with the audience’s shuffling feet while in stark contrast “SYLVIA PLATH” was toe-curling startling on a spare piano. “Let It Ride” he confessed the opening acoustic riff was a take on the Britney Fox cut “Long Way To Love” and he even went back o his Whiskeytown days for “16 Days”. As he insatiably sung “My Winding Wheel” you couldn’t help but feel that Adams set list is a syllabus in the University of Life, ready-made for survival where through our pain we find strength.

Anyone who has followed Adams on Twitter and Facebook in recent years has seen his comments and posts about hard rock and metal from the 1980’s. He even recorded a vinyl only album inspired by Voivod’s “Angel Rat” in 2010.

The Chicago concert featured Adams wearing a Motorhead t-shirt, an Iron Maiden jacket and included shout outs to former Badlands and Ozzy Osborne guitarist Jake E. Lee, Britney Fox (and their song “Long Way To Love”) and even included a brief snippet sample of the Bullet Boys “Smooth Up”. The music ironically is embedded is much of the audience’s DNA whether they want it or not.

For years I’ve often felt ostracized by friends as my taste in music runs far and wide. My alternative fans raised their pierced eyebrows at my love for hard rock from the 1980’s and those muscular metal riffers often stuck their now pierced noses up at me.

Seeing Adams perform Ratt’s “Round and Round” alongside the dramatic encore of “Nutshell” by Alice in Chains validates my love and admiration not just for hard rock and grunge, but for all types of music. His inner child who dreamed of being a rock star came out.

Say what you want about Ratt, but more kids probably played air guitar to Ratt in their bedroom mirrors than anyone will admit. Ratt has never been a band with any critical acclaim and now that Ryan Adams has brilliantly re-imagined their biggest hit people are beginning to see the need for their music and the purpose it served. The performance wasn’t turgid but hypnotically earnest. He sung from his gut as if he had written the words himself.

The main set closer “Come Pick Me Up” was a fall-to-your-knees performance with Adams perfectly emulating the anguish and desperation in the song. If there is any one thing I am sure of in this universe, we are not destined to walk through it alone. That doesn’t mean you have to be married or in a relationship for it to have meaning, it simply means sharing your life with someone and having them open up the world for you. The road to too treacherous, the terrain is too winding and the ache too colossal to mount alone.

Often we find someone or something that allows us to let go of our desperation, dislocation, desolation and isolation as we’re reminded that life’s travails contain extreme pain but also joy…and the elation outweighs it all. The greatest gift any artist can give any listener is to nudge them towards the dark side within. Not to embrace it but to tame it, understand it and above all else learn from it. They’re cinematic in scope where we don’t see a tiny portion of our life, but where it comes through in widescreen ambitious awesomeness.

Ryan Adams took the Chicago crowd to an intersection where his wondrous catalog converged. The performance flourished under the dimply lit stage as Adams joked, laughed and yearned with the audience in tandem. His banter with a female audience member in the balcony verged on hysterics as he made up a back story for her life and he even made up a song for her on the spot. This wasn’t a purging of demons so much as it was a group of friends reconnecting after not seeing each other for years. This was more than an artist at ease, but a man at peace.

Adams sung with all his heart and performed with all his gusto and above all else, both he and the audience relished each other’s company. The agony, dejection, euphoria and anxiety that embody his songs were on full display. This was a rare breaking bread moment where the artist pulls back the curtain and lets us in. Not only was the audience thankful, but we were grateful to be allowed so close to someone who spent the last decade guarding himself. He may not be the Ryan Adams I imagined back in 2001, but he’s without question the Ryan Adams that he was always meant to be.

Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door.

Ryan Adams – Come Pick Me Up

Ryan Adams singing Come Pick Me Up with Neil Finn and Janis Ian on BBC 4’s Songwriters’ Circle on October 21st 2011.

Pure poetry. The harmonica part in the beginning is awesome. I like how it slows down after that, just an over all great song. ~AA