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Before Ryan Adams dated actresses, before he was a Gap model, before he
became known (publicly, at least) as an hard-drinking egomaniac, he
fronted a relatively unknown North Carolina alt-country band called
Whiskeytown. Along with Caitlin Cary on violin, bassist Jeff Rice,
guitarist/organist Phil Wandscher and drummer Steven Terry (most
recently of Brooklyn's The Damnwells), Adams delivered a
series of accomplished albums, but label
mishandling and ego clashes brought the group to an untimely end. Each of Whiskeytown's albums was strong, and
rife with the promise of a young songwriter slowly coming into his own, but Stranger's Almanac, their second record, stands out as
their best work.
From "Inn Town"'s mellow, droning guitars to "Houses On The Hill"'s
short, cinematic structure and "Not Home Anymore"'s melodrama, Stranger's Almanac
bristles with honesty, due largely to the band's fascination
with classic country music. Its timeless songs reveal a strength and quality many bands never achieve -- let alone on their second record. Some
listeners might suggest that the struggle for relevance and credibility drove
Adams to pen songs like "Somebody Remembers The Rose" and "Dancing With
The Women At The Bar", but there's another crucial factor at work here: an old-fashioned rock
sensibility that keeps the music from sounding stale and sets them
apart from other country-tinged acts.
The album's excellent first half includes the tongue-in-cheek
"Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart Tonight" ("After all it's mine /
Can I have it back sometime?") and "16 Days",
which got CMJ and the indier press hot and bothered after its
release. Both songs highlight Adams's penchant for mixing rock and
country; the band balances its rock influences well, from Tom
Petty's poppy hooks to Paul Westerberg's folkier leanings, but
country usually comes out on top. Along with the standard electric
and requisite steel guitar, we get Cary's violin, harmonica,
and banjo for texture and authenticity. And it works.
Stranger's Almanac really begins
to show its strength with "Houses On The Hill",
"Turn Around" and "Dancing With The Women At The Bar". "Houses...",
which spins the story of a man searching through old boxes in the attic
for pieces of his family's past, may be Adams's strongest work. While the
song stirs the emotional pot, Adams doesn't let its impact
overwhelm us ("There were stars in the sky / There were
houses on the hill / and there bottles of pills that were easy to buy /
To keep her warm from the oncoming storm"); instead, he delivers the
lines slowly and calmly, letting listeners savor each word of the story, while mellow guitars, Cary's backing harmonies and the beautiful pedal
steel work creates a stunning backdrop.
"Turn Around" is one of Stranger's Almanac's more upbeat songs,
and hints at the rock 'n' roll turn Adams would take years later in his
solo career. The song's loose melodies, electric guitars and driving but unobtrusive beat makes
it a perfect midpoint. It also lacks the previous songs' emotional charge, which gives listeners' heartstrings a break. "Dancing
With The Women At The Bar", another one of the album's best moments, gives
insight into Adams's personal life (and perhaps into some of the demons
he deals with on stage). "When I see the moon and hear
the sound of the strip, it calls out my name," he sings. Here, his vocals are enhanced by Cary's backing vocals -- it's an understated but telling showcase for her talent. Her own solo work is further proof that Whiskeytown wasn't
just Ryan Adams's band -- and Adams wasn't Whiskeytown's only star.
"Waiting to Derail" and "Losering" are more alt than country. Both songs are well written, and the latter builds to an impressive climax while offering some much-needed self-deprecating humor, but they're definitely Whiskeytown's "B" game. The album
regains momentum with "Somebody Remembers The Rose", in which Adams sings, "Honey I'm out of service for a while / Damaged heart's been
manufactured / And everyday this one never works anyway." Most of Adams's songs -- hell, most of everybody's songs, and certainly most country songs -- deal with heartbreak and pain, and Stranger's
Almanac offers some of the most palpable, compelling examples.
Strangers' Almanac was the beginning of the end for Whiskeytown; by the time they recorded its follow-up, Pneumonia, they had more ex-members than active members -- Adams and Cary were the only constants. To make matters worse, their major-label alt-country imprint, Outpost, vanished forever in the Polygram/Universal merger morass. By the time Pneumonia finally hit stores in 2001, Adams's thriving solo career had all but eclipsed his former band. It's easy to downplay their importance now -- but one listen to Stranger's Almanac brings it all back.
-- David A. Cobb
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