i (don't heart) Ryan Adams

so, i'm about to tell you that i saw Ryan Adams and Rachel Yamagata in concert. ok, so i just told you. what i'm actually about to tell is that they are the type of people that should refrain from putting on a live show. don't assume that i have much to support my views other than having been a participant in the audience. music was never a part of my collegiate studies, nor is it really a hobby of mine aside from listening to it and going to, primarily, good shows. i happen to be feeling cynical at the moment and i'm simply telling you about my evening--an evening which happened to include going to a bad concert.

Rachel had a cold. now, maybe this adds to her voice. it is a husky one, very sultry. it's a lovely, widely ranging set of vocal chords she has and i presume, maybe foolishly, that this is something that can be sustained without an upper-respiratory infection. you see, all of this became the focus of my attentions when Rachel performed. after each song, she timidly and huskily approached the microphone and proceeded to sniffle through some petty diaglogue, even admitting that she was not doing well at her attempts to relate to the crowd. now, i'm not completely unfeeling. i can understand the little annoyances that come with a runny nose. but sniffling *sniff* after *sniff* every *sniff* word *sniff*? that's *sniff* just *sniff* annoying *sniff* and fucking *sniff* gross. *sniff*

she was embarrassed and awkward and hid behind her bushy hair for much of the performance. call me crazy, but if you have stage fright, you may want to reconsider your calling as a musical performer. it kinda takes away from the show. and at the very fucking least, blow your nose prior to your arrival on stage.

in the end, she was the highlight of the two performances.

and then there was ryan. fucking ryan adams. i'll get his praises out of the way first. live, his voice is flawless as is his guitar and piano playing. it's difficult to argue that the man is not talented musically, vocally, and lyrically. so, i won't. i don't like difficult things.

when he first came on stage i was reminded that he'd decided to get into facial hair recently. i'd seen a picture but was somehow still holding onto the idea that he was really hot. i mean, he may still be, but his face didn't make much of an appearance throughout the evening. in a pinch, his head could be severed and used as a body-double for one of those Popple creatures i used to play with as a child.

he didn't speak much, but between songs, he'd fumble about the stage. i didn't find the lack of conversation bothersome, but his dilly-dallying was. eventually, the dilly-dallying became talking among the band members. in time, this too progressed to ryan yelling at his amplifyer. yelling at the amp gave way to shaking his fist to the ceiling, and the culmination of his crack-head behavior was when he began to speak in phrases that seemed to make no sense whatsoever. my only recollection, specifically, of his brief steam of verbiage was "e-lower-case-cummings" and then a mention of Sylvia Plath weighing herself, but being unable to separate her actual body weight from the weight of the oven gas she had swallowed. when the crowd reacted with mixed murmers and laughs of disbelief, he childishly shouted, "but he started it!"

i left the show before he finished his second set. i was too angry to stay. short of a full personal apology and $45 in cash or comparable sexual favors, there was nothing he could do to make me happy to be there. he was awkward. he was rude. he was abrasive. he was annoying the shit out of me. oh, and he was wearing cowboy boots. pfft.

i'm not sure if he was on drugs during the performance, or if he was in need of them. i'm thinking the latter. i mean, no sane rockstar can think that a mop of hair, long beard, and the occasional glimpse of eye-glasses is attractive, right?

though, i mean, in a pinch, i guess i'd do a Popple.