Why is the New York Times writing about Ryan Adams? Why is anyone writing about Ryan Adams? Why does anyone care?
That's an obvious question, really, and I admit that, but, goddamn, so much of life is built on obvious experiences, obvious observations, and obvious questions, that I felt compelled to call it up as part of this spate of back-on-the-horse posts.
I mean, I understand why we care about the Spice Girls. Really. There's entertainment somewhere in there, even if you can't bring yourself to look for irony. Just like there's entertainment somewhere, somewhere, somewhere -- I trust -- in the Street Fighter movie, even if you ignore the Raul Julia irony, but I don't get the Ryan Adams thing.
Heartbreaker had its moments. I can't deny that. "To Be Young" is a great song, no matter the ensuing decade. But, after that?
Proof, I suppose, that everyone has one great something inside him/her. It might be one novel (Confederacy, right?), one album, one song, one fantastic night in a foreign city, one perfect comeback to a dick at the bar. And some have got dozens.
But not this kid. Not this kid.
But, here I am writing about him. Draw your own damn conclusions.
Unibroue is my new favorite Canadian brewery. And that, if nothing else, is a good thing.