Für RA ist die Pitchfork-Bewertungsskala ja bekanntlich bei ca. 7 zu Ende, insofern: hey, keine schlechte Bewertung!;-)
Immer mehr Rezensionen trudeln ein, hier ein paar der relevanteren: Der Musikexpress vergibt **** (und sieht Billy Joel-Referenzen), SPIEGEL ONLINE 7 Punkte, und Interessanteres aus der amerikanischen Tagespresse:
New York Sun:
Just one minute into the lead track on Ryan Adams’s new album, „Easy Tiger,“ the now infamously impetuous singer/songwriter sounds so on-point perfect that it forgives any past bad-boy transgressions. Two electric guitars carve out a rippling, intertwined melody. The pace surges at the chorus before settling into a melancholic sway during the verses. And Mr. Adams rasps bittersweet lines of a life lived too intensely. „Let go of the worry, there’s so much nobody understands,“ he sings. „Don’t live your life in such a hurry, life goes by us all so fast.“
The classic country-rock of „Goodnight Rose“ announces the return to songwriting basics that defines „Easy Tiger“ (Lost Highway), Mr. Adams’s ninth solo album since disbanding his upstart country outfit, Whiskeytown, in 1999. It’s the sort of album that traditional alt-country fans have been waiting for since Mr. Adams’s 2000 solo debut, „Heartbreaker“ — and that return to roots-rock is precisely what makes „Easy Tiger“ such an underwhelming experience.
Make no mistake about it: „Easy Tiger“ might not be as warmly received by the same critics who lambasted Mr. Adams’s impulsive impudence in recent years after fawning over 2001’s „Gold,“ but you can bet it will be fecklessly branded with that most tepid laurel, „mature.“ In the years since „Gold,“ Mr. Adams has cranked out albums and songs the way Joyce Carol Oates churns out books — seven official releases in eight years and countless online-only songs through his Web site. The material tried out just about every genre and stylistic hybrid in pop music, including a befuddling foray into hip-hop. Mr. Adams has also become easy-target blog fodder through the years, living a tabloid life complete with a movie-star girlfriend, voicemail tirades aimed at music critics, onstage meltdowns, and substantial problems with drugs and alcohol. The lack of a self-editor, both in and out of the studio, earned the insouciant Mr. Adams a reputation for self-destruction.
All the while Mr. Adams worked overtime to cast off the „alt-country“ tag from his music, and in recent days he has also cast off the addictions that, by his own estimation, left him teetering on the edge of sanity and even death. So the drugs are gone, but on „Easy Tiger,“ the alt-country is back. The album’s 13 songs are straightforward, pop-friendly twang, all tinted with a gimlet-eyed weariness that is its creator’s greatest lyrical gift. Even in Whiskeytown, Mr. Adams mined stories of romantic and personal disappointments that flirted with Townes Van Zandt’s wells of misanthropy, where beguiling melodies softened the rough edges of bitterness.
„Easy Tiger“ finds Mr. Adams dipping deep into that bag and pulling out finely honed gemstones. „Two“ sways to a summery melodic breeze over which Mr. Adams’s narrator takes his best shot at romantic apology but sounds as if he knows he doesn’t have it in him: „If I could I’d treat you like you wanted me to I promise / but I’m fractured from the fall, and I want to go home.“ „Tears of Gold“ is straight up, singalong majestic crying-in-beer honky-tonk. And the literal heartbreak downer „Two Hearts“ — „two hearts, one of them will break / like bad ideas on a beautiful day“ — has the dubious distinction of being perhaps the first time Mr. Adams has resorted to leaden musical and lyrical cliché in his career.
The best songs on „Easy Tiger“ are the two most traditional. „Pearls on a String“ is a refreshingly hopeful bit of front-porch finger picking. And „Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.“ is a gorgeous wash of acoustic guitars that colorfully shade a picturesque snapshot of working-class survival, revealing two qualities never expected of the brash Mr. Adams: confident understatement and low-key intimacy.
Sadly, these high points leave the rest of the album’s uniformity feeling listless. Mr. Adams might have failed more often than he succeeded during his explosively scattershot 21st century, but he never dulled his ambition. That impudence might have fueled his lowest moments, but he backs off from it so much here that „Easy Tiger“ feels like an act of contrition. When critics inevitably laud the album’s focused professionalism as maturity, it’ll be like parents complimenting their 33-year-old child for finally getting a haircut and a cubicle career.
Mr. Adams is without a doubt one of the most prolifically gifted songwriters of his generation, but he sounds, for the first time, unsure of his instincts. With the right self-discipline — something that may come as he grows more comfortable with sobriety — he has the restless talent to evolve into a Steve Earle caliber lightning rod. At the moment, though, he’s merely another former next-big-thing looking for his footing.
Associated Press:
The title of Ryan Adams ninth album draws on a familiar retort meant to slow someone down. The notoriously hyperactive Adams seems to have heeded the advice: The 13 new songs show an attention to detail his albums have lacked in recent years.
Maybe it’s because he’s newly sober; maybe it’s because he took time to finish songs instead of trying to prove how frequently he could write and record new work. Whatever the reason, “Easy Tiger“ finally capitalizes on the promise that made Adams such a cause celebre when he released his first two solo albums, 2000’s “Heartbreaker“ and 2001’s “Gold.“
Although Adams doesn’t credit his band, The Cardinals, “Easy Tiger“ is also the most cohesive and intricately arranged album he’s ever created. In particular, the rhythm section of drummer Brad Pemberton and bassist Chris Feinstein shadow the singer’s emotions with remarkable resonance and fluidity.
Adams sings with a subtlety and range he’s only shown in flashes, lending a sweet-soul flavor to arrangements that embrace tender folk-rock (“Two,“ “Rip Off“) and a more dynamic, theatrical style reminiscent of Jeff Buckley (“Goodnight Rose,“ “Halloweenhead“). The dreamlike imagery and poetic twists remain, only now everything comes together at once, instead of in fits and starts.
Just as some fans were about to give up on him, Adams pulls it altogether. Way to go, Tiger.
Popmatters:
Ryan Adams keeps things short and sweet. No, really.
As dictated by chemistry, physics and possibly string theory, Planet Earth adheres to a pretty successful system of dates and times, while Planet Ryan Adams adheres to another, more boingy one entirely; somewhere, there exists a “Good Will Hunting” equation that relates Ryan Time to Human Time, and I’m guessing it’s more or less close to dog years.
Adams himself may be entertaining—and oddly reaonable—in arguing for such eruptive output, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s solely responsible for his maddening-bordering-on-comical inconsistency, and made it so that it’s hard to receive word of a new disc without resorting to the blog equivalent of Catskills-comic jokes. For instance, I’ve made like nine lame ones, and it’s only the second paragraph.
But the most surprising thing about Easy Tiger, Adams’ 423rd record, is how much of a base-hit up the middle it is; this is some of his most professional-sounding, accesssible and brightly rewarding stuff since Gold, the Ryan Adams Album For People Who Don’t Have Time For All This Other Shit.
Recorded with his Cardinals but billed as a solo joint, Easy Tiger finds Adams at his most effortlessly consistent, and for whatever reason and in a fact that frustrates his detractors, Adams as Just Fine is still better than many of his compatriots, which must drive them completely insane. Say this for the man, sure, he’s got a history of playing 45s during his concerts and abandon the stage to grab a beer at the bar, but he sure can knock out these country hooks and choruses like he’s walking in his sleep.
Easy Tiger keeps things short and sweet; the longest track here clocks in at 4:11 and most are two or three minutes, which amplifies their punch considerably (it is a weird world indeed when a review of Ryan Adams has led to point involves keeping a judicious lid on your musical sprawl).
The gorgeous opener “Goodnight Rose” finds Ryan in Sweet Mode, a sympathetic shoulder espousing sunshine and patience to a woman with whom he plans to win “the whole shebang” (which concludes with a with a crashing chorus that splashes down over and over again until you can’t help but submit.) But there are moments of agreeable lightness (not quite as wacky as “Welcome to Ryan Adams.Com Motherfucker”, but still): “Halloweenhead” roars through its stomp-rock right up until Adams introduces the guitar solo with—wait for it—“Guitar solo!” Heh heh. Cool. (In “These Girls”, he talks about burning Matchbox cars in his backyard, which I didn’t know you could do, but am totally going to try).
Whatever his past messiness, Adams remains inarguably effective when he just boils away the mess; “Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.”, which is a title that argues the exact opposite point I’m making here, but is two and a half minutes of pretty piano, wispy harmony and crisp beauty. You could mess with feedback and bravado and theatrical, rock-star flame-out, or you could slip out little twinkling gems like “These girls are all better off in my head,” and bring in Springsteen’s “This Hard Land” harmonica on a pretty lament called “I Taught Myself How to Grow Old.”
Easy Tiger is front-loaded, natch, and there’s some material for the threatened box-set on Side 2. On the whole, in fact, Easy Tiger is brisk and bright, and damned if Adams doesn’t sound comfortable just being Ryan Adams for a minute.
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Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to exit the donut!