Ryan Adams &
The Cardinals
Cardinology
Lost Highway
By Mike Randall
There’s a rumor on the street that Cardinology, the latest effort from Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, is a let down. After a single spin I was on board that bandwagon, disappointed by a record I expected to be but wasn’t an obvious evolution of 2007’s excellent Easy Tiger. After all, Adams had finally seemed to find his comfort zone with a core band that was loose enough to boogie and tight enough for blue-eyed soul. The most appeasing record since Heartbreaker, Adams ditched his inner demons – real and imagined – and got focused with a roots-y release that was a clear return to form after some prior haphazard albums. Then I listened to Cardinology and felt like Adams had either gone back to the trash heap to recycle some throwaways or merely brought back the infamous song slinger incapable of self-restraint.
After a couple of plays, I realized I’d been fooled and hadn’t paid close enough attention.
While Adams’ writing is not his best, Cardinology is a collection of songs from a band that musically pushes itself further than it ever has ever ventured in a realm known for complacency. It’s a grower of an album if ever there was one, with nuances that come out through repeated listens that might sound stale with one ear’s listen, a misleading sign of the formerly erratic Adams trying to show his affinity for other genres and a desire to be liked by all. Sifting through, however, Adams demonstrates himself to be much smarter than that, and the things you like best about his music become the stilts that hold up the record’s best songs. And it can all be traced back to Adams’ desire to remove his name from the cover of Easy Tiger and solely be referred to as the Cardinals (a request subsequently denied by his label). What at the time seemed like false modesty now reveals itself to be the fact Adams realized the connection he has with his band, and how he must have been aware they were going to take him places he couldn’t find on his own.
The best and brightest moments occur when the Cardinals are allowed to stretch out and add multiple layers and textures. Sure there are some misfires (“Magick,” “Cobwebs”) but it’s only because the band is trying to be daring, and even during those instances we see why Adams is so loyal to his Cardinals - they salvage songs in places his lyrics come up short. Cuts like the back-alley crawl of the R&B/classic-rock-infused “Fix It” become more and more likable the deeper you entangle yourself in the Cardinals’ sprawling web, while “Let Us Down Easy” is tailor-made for the Adams-Cardinal combo. We’ve heard Adams sing about being let down before, but his voice soars above a soulful mix of mid-tempo country rock, pleading to God to be gentle on him. Even an otherwise forgettable “Like Yesterday” is salvaged by a killer guitar break reminiscent of a more rugged Allman Brothers Band, and it’s clear a track like the boundary-pushing “Sink Ships” will sprout wings in a live setting.
To say Cardinology is an evolution doesn’t always mean different; it can simply mean better. This is exemplified by the record’s highlight, which comes during the soaring guitar and pedal steel of “Natural Ghost,” a countrified blast that lies somewhere between Heartbreaker and Cold Roses. His Southern roots bubble to the surface as he glides into a beautiful falsetto chorus that displays some of his most impassioned singing in years, perhaps second only to the album-closing piano ballad, “Stop.” Sparse, epic and touching in the nature of Gold’s “Sylvia Plath,” “Stop” finds Adams sounding his most sincere, singing about taking control of his life as his voice cracks and he seems on the verge of tears with lines like, “There’s so many of us, and you are not alone/Ever, ever, ever.” He continues the theme of finding solace on the acoustic rusticity of “Evergreen,” with Adams channeling his inner American Beauty and delivering flower-child lyrics like “Evergreen never says nothing that’s mean.”
“Be patient, oh the past is just a memory, and heal/Heal your vines, you’ll heal inside eventually,” Adams sings on the album-opening “Born Into A Light.” With its Easy Tiger twang, it’s probably the catchiest track on the record (and ends far too quickly), but the first two words seem to stand out more than any others on Cardinology. Yes, it seems silly for a man who has been given more chances than just about anyone to be asking for patience at this stage of his career, but for once it doesn’t seem to be all about him. Those that are patient and spend the time with Cardinology it deserves will be rewarded. But you’re going to have to give it more than one chance.
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