20 Signs of Life From 2003

Lying on my back, post-midnight, atop the roof of the Paste office—Ryan Adams' new album blaring in my headphones—staring up at the dark-black sky as tiny beams of light filtered down from distant stars, I finally got it. Now, I don’t know about the backwards part, but this damn sure is rock’n’roll (wailing distorted Telescasters included) but that’s not the only reason this is a great album. Yes, the production sparkles, the songs are well-written and Adams has ventured into new sonic territory, but equally striking once you get to the heart of the record is his ability to capture the human experience—to express in plain and powerful terms the longing, heartache, uncertainty, and (at times) reckless joy of life—and that, in combination with the tastefully layered music, is what makes Rock N Roll such an essential listen.

The first few tracks, though solid, are a warm up for the heavy-hitting, ethereal rockers that begin picking up steam with “So Alive.” The melodic, reverb-soaked “Burning Photographs,” with lines like, “I used to be sad / Now I’m just bored with you … nothing is going to last / I burned all your photographs,” is as fine as any post-break-up tune Adams has ever written. “Note to Self” is pure, bottom-heavy, wall-of-sound, Butch Vig-inspired grunge with Adams screaming, “Note to self / Don’t change for anyone. Note to self / Don’t die,” on the chorus. The album’s most relaxed number, “Rock N Roll,” is ironically titled, yet the song is anything but. This quiet piano ballad takes any façade Adams has ever put up, tears it down, smashes it to pieces, burns it and tosses its ashes into the Hudson River. After he’s opened himself up, Adams appropriately follows with the pleading, unsure “Anybody Want To Take Me Home.”

Rock N Roll isn’t quite the buffalo on the cave wall yet (see Adams feature, pg. 43, issue 7) but give Adams some time. He’s getting there.