Adams, Ryan : Sydney Metro
The hard-working rocker covers The White Stripes on the way to being adopted as one of this Aussie city's beautiful people...
Ryan Adams' first gig of the year is sold out and officially the Hottest Ticket In Town. He's been having quite a good time in this little harbour city, apparently. Sydney's like southern California without the bullshit, we're told, and he quite likes the gene pool; "Any guy here knows what I'm talking about, you fucking lucky bastards!". The girls swoon. The lads smirk. And with that he's in - swiftly adopted as one of Sydney's beautiful people. As easy as that.
Three hours later, and the show's still coming along quite nicely. Bolstered by Australia's liberal liquor licensing laws (no midnight lock-ins here, suckers), Ryan Adams has dug his heels in. He orders in beer for the first few rows, which duly arrives two songs later. The crowd, mostly industry types who've followed the odour of hype to this gig like dogs to the kill, can't believe their luck. They've got themselves a rock star.
Because that's what Ryan Adamsis tonight - a styled up, slick, smiling, New York cowboy in a wide striped tie, red leather jacket and clean blue jeans. We'd be forgiven for thinking that 'Heartbreaker' never happened, that Ryan Adamswas the sole dumpee and not the dumped, that a broken heart never meant more than a raised eyebrow and a consequent trip to the bar. He rocks out like Jagger, invokes the spirit of both Gram Parsons and Jim Morrison, takes to the mic during 'Touch, Feel & Lose' and performs like a frenzied preacher, all the time smoking his way through a small South American tobacco plantation.
However, he proves later he's got a heart - 'Nobody Girl' begins in favour of his lover as Adams sings of her in wistful tones backed by a pedal steel guitar. But when he venomously spits out the chorus while the drums, Hammond and bass scream their disapproval, she suddenly becomes the calculating bitch who left him weeping on the doorstep.
With covers of the ' 'Brown Sugar' and ' 'Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground' thrown in for good measure, it's rock'n'roll in its most pure form. Alt.country may not mean a whole lot to folk who ain't from North Carolina, but it sure feels good.
Alicia Brodersen
Three hours later, and the show's still coming along quite nicely. Bolstered by Australia's liberal liquor licensing laws (no midnight lock-ins here, suckers), Ryan Adams has dug his heels in. He orders in beer for the first few rows, which duly arrives two songs later. The crowd, mostly industry types who've followed the odour of hype to this gig like dogs to the kill, can't believe their luck. They've got themselves a rock star.
Because that's what Ryan Adamsis tonight - a styled up, slick, smiling, New York cowboy in a wide striped tie, red leather jacket and clean blue jeans. We'd be forgiven for thinking that 'Heartbreaker' never happened, that Ryan Adamswas the sole dumpee and not the dumped, that a broken heart never meant more than a raised eyebrow and a consequent trip to the bar. He rocks out like Jagger, invokes the spirit of both Gram Parsons and Jim Morrison, takes to the mic during 'Touch, Feel & Lose' and performs like a frenzied preacher, all the time smoking his way through a small South American tobacco plantation.
However, he proves later he's got a heart - 'Nobody Girl' begins in favour of his lover as Adams sings of her in wistful tones backed by a pedal steel guitar. But when he venomously spits out the chorus while the drums, Hammond and bass scream their disapproval, she suddenly becomes the calculating bitch who left him weeping on the doorstep.
With covers of the ' 'Brown Sugar' and ' 'Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground' thrown in for good measure, it's rock'n'roll in its most pure form. Alt.country may not mean a whole lot to folk who ain't from North Carolina, but it sure feels good.
Alicia Brodersen
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