Jacksonville City Nights

Poor Ryan. I’m sure that at some stage over the last two years, as his career has nosedived in a spectacularly Collymore-esque fashion, our former favourite troubadour must have wondered what it was he actually did wrong.
Was it the celebrity girlfriends? Was it the endorsement from Elton John? Was it the inexplicable attempt, on Rock N Roll, to become Huey Lewis and The News?
Was it, even, the decision to shut down his website to mourn the last episode of Friends?
Whatever the cause of his Icarus-like fall from grace (whose dramatic nature means that broken mirrors, black cats and affronted step ladders can’t be ruled out either), the shambolic, unfocused, critically ignored Ryan Adams of recent vintage has borne little resemblance not only to the gifted craftsman responsible for the still masterful Heartbreaker, but also to the speccy prodigy of Whiskeytown.
Which is sad. Because while Adams may not have been the next Bob, Kris, Keith or Gram, the sheer plagiaristic gusto with which he moulded classic Americana into shapes of his own choosing had the same admirable cheek as the early light-fingered work of Noel Gallagher.
The first thing to note about Jacksonville City Nights, the second instalment of a planned triptych of albums for 2005, is that on the inside sleeve Adams sports the kind of facial hair that his namesake, Gerry, wore during his spell in the ‘Kesh.
The second thing, again taken from the packaging, is that the typeface and design of the sleeve are an explicit homage to the great Gene Clark solo records of the early 70s.
You do not need an MA in 70s American Country Rock to deconstruct the signifiers: people, we’ve a burn-out record on our hands here.
Which, considering that during his current Prince-like spurt of productivity, Adams has released about eight such specimens, is a fairly dispiriting prospect.
However, hold fire on your disdain. Certainly Jacksonville is a place that seems permanently stuck at 2.00am, and, with its pedal steel and loose-limbed playing, has Sweetheart Of The Rodeo and The Gilded Palace Of Sin on heavy rotation.
But unlike Love Is Hell, the emphasis is on lush melancholy rather than spidery, unsettling depression.
‘September’ and the old Whiskeytown number ‘My Heart Is Broken’ are amongst the stand-outs in a record that finds Adams more at ease with himself than we have recently become accustomed . The fact that he can have a straight-faced rattle at ‘Always On My Mind’ gives you an indication that he’s much happier with his lot this time round the block.
So, good news then for fans who have lately doubted the wisdom of their initial investment. Ryan Adams could just be on the rise once more.