Barnes & Noble
In an age where cockiness seems to be the deadliest sin for a rock performer, Ryan Adams takes great joy in boasting of his titanic talent -- a habit that might be annoying if he didn't also follow the path of Muhammad Ali, who once noted, "It ain't bragging if you can back it up." This two-disc set -- the first of three planned 2005 releases -- readily affirms the singer-songwriter's high self-esteem, seeing how much he stretches his stylistic wings. In contrast to his previous album, an electrically charged homage to Rock N Roll, Cold Roses, could be dubbed Adams's "hippie" album, rife as it is with languid melodies, loping guitar lines, and mellowed-out delivery. The latter element is most surprising, particularly the ethereal, Grateful Deadstyled amble Adams adopts for "Easy Plateau" and the loping folkiness that drapes "Sweet Illusions," a nod to Harvest-era Neil Young. Even the country-tinged offerings -- which Adams embraces more lovingly here than he has in years -- seem more suited for a quiet cabin in the woods than a rowdy roadhouse, especially "Let It Ride," one of three songs to feature the vocals of Rachael Yamagata. The album isn't strictly given over to summer-of-love sweetness, of course -- Adams is too surly to let that happen -- and rockers like the ragged-but-right love paean "Beautiful Sorta" caffeinate the proceedings often enough to prove that. Cold Roses, however, isn't about working up a sweat, it's about self-assessment -- a look in the mirror in the cold light of day. And fittingly for a restless rocker, Adams uses these songs to admit that he doesn't always like what he sees. David Sprague
All Music Guide
Last time we received a dispatch from Ryan Adams, the self-styled savior of rock & roll, it was in 2003, when he delivered his straight-up rock & roll record (aptly titled Rock N Roll) and his two-part mope-rock EP (later combined as one LP) Love Is Hell. Admirable records both, but not quite the sequel to Heartbreaker that fans craved. They also weren't quite as successful as all the hype surrounding their release suggested that they would be, so Adams briefly retreated from the spotlight to regroup, heading back in 2005 with a planned triptych of new albums, the first of which is the double-album Cold Roses, recorded with his new backing band the Cardinals and released at the beginning of May. Three albums in one year is overkill even for an artist predisposed to releasing his every whim, and while it's too early at this writing to judge whether he needed to release all three of the records, it's safe to say that Cold Roses is the record many fans have been waiting to hear -- a full-fledged, unapologetic return to the country-rock that made his reputation when he led Whiskeytown. Not that the album is a retreat, or a crass attempt to give the people what they want, but it's an assured, comfortable collection of 18 songs that play to Adams' strengths because they capture him not trying quite so hard. He settles into a warm, burnished, countryish groove not far removed from vintage Harvest-era Neil Young at the beginning and keeps it going over the course of a double-disc set that isn't all that long. With the first disc clocking in at 39:39 and the second at 36:29, this could easily have been released as a single-disc set, but splitting it into two and packaging it as a mock-gatefold LP is classic Ryan Adams, highlighting both his flair for rock classicism and his tendency to come across slightly affected. As always, he's so obsessive about fitting into classic rock's long lineage that he can be slightly embarrassing -- particularly on the intro to "Beautiful Sorta," which apes David Johansen's intro to the New York Dolls' "Looking for a Kiss" in a way that guarantees a cringe -- which is also a problem when he drifts toward lazy, profanity-riddled lyrics ("this sh*t just f*cks you up" on "Cherry Lane") that undercut a generally strong set of writing. But what makes Cold Roses a success, his first genuine one since Heartbreaker, is that it is a genuine band album, with the Cardinals not only getting co-writing credits but helping Adams relax and let the music flow naturally. It's not the sound of somebody striving to save rock & roll, or even to be important, but that's precisely why this is the easiest Ryan Adams to enjoy. The coming months with their coming LPs will reveal whether this is indeed a shift in his point of view, or just a brief break from his trademark blustering braggadocio. Stephen Thomas Erlewine