It is said a book cannot be judged by its cover, but the same cannot be said of Ryan Adams albums, including his latest, Jacksonville City Nights. Every one of Adams' six proper solo records have worn their hearts, as well as Ryan's influences, on their album sleeves.
Each album cover reveals who Adams is currently trying to emulate. There was the Dylan pose he struck on the cover of the soulful Heartbreaker, the sneer and jean jacket he nicked from the Replacements for the '80s-influenced Rock 'n' Roll. Cold Roses, the jammy record he released earlier this year, featured a cover uncomfortably similar to The Grateful Dead's classic American Beauty.
This is Adams' biggest weakness: he often tries to emulate a certain artist or style so completely that he fails to make use of his own style. He is so prolific and genre-hops so much that some of his records seem built on remarkably thin premises. One can almost hear him in the studio: \Hey, let's do a record that sounds like The Smiths! Let's do a Replacements album!"" If he stops actually writing his own material, he could do a series called ""Ryan Adams sings ...""
Under that premise, Jacksonville City Nights, Adams' second release in a reported trio due in 2005, could be titled Ryan Adams Sings Classic Country. And again, the album cover gives it away: The title's vintage typeface, its painting of an old saloon, even the way the song titles are listed across the bottom of the front cover in the style of an old vinyl album. These all point to Adams' aim to recreate a classic country album. Enjoyment of the album will largely depend on acceptance of the above premise.
In Jacksonville, Adams removes the alt from his alt-country label. He keeps a pronounced Southern drawl in his voice. Pedal-steel guitars howl in the background, drums emulate the clip-clopping of horses' hooves, and the occasional fiddle kicks up the dust around him. Adams sings about trains ""filled up with cotton and dime-store gin.""
Like Jack White, Adams walks a clear line-his intent is to reverently preserve a bygone style of music, but by writing songs about an era he did not actually experience, he runs the risk of self-parody.
Like all of Adams' albums, Jacksonville is overly long. Near the album's end, it has too many listless ballads and songs that sound like countrified outtakes from last spring's superior Cold Roses. Often, it seems like an exercise of form over function. Adams expertly replicates the sound of old country records and their lyrical conventions but fails to add anything unique to the mix.
However, Jacksonville City Nights also has its fair share of jewels. ""The Hardest Part"" tears through the record's pastoral first third like a cyclone on the prairie. ""Withering Heights"" and ""Silver Bullets"" are carried along by lush string arrangements. And the album's overall sound will appeal to those who haven't liked Adams' work since Heartbreaker.
Overall, Jacksonville works better as an exercise than an actual album. While its interesting to hear Adams back on the path to his country roots, casual fans are advised to buy the far superior Cold Roses.
