There are those artists whose talents seem as wrapped up in their mystique and allure as their obvious musical abilities: Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, Ryan Adams. I was present at the infamous Ryman show where Adams whipped out his wallet, threw the price of a ticket at a heckler, and refused to perform another song until the man was removed. He was well into a second bottle of wine at the time, and although his blood alcohol level didn’t seem to affect his singing or piano playing, his mood was volatile and his behavior between songs erratic. It was a great show, but there was also something of car wreck quotient that kept us watching.

After a three-album stint with the critically-admired Whiskeytown, Adam’s first two solo albums were nearly flawless, with a heady mix of aching ballads and ribald sing-a-longs. But then the quality became spotty as his successes (Love is Hell, Cold Roses, Easy Tiger) did battle with records that contained a few bright spots mixed in with near misses and uninspired filler. His struggles with alcohol and substance abuse were well documented, and though he achieved some modicum of chart success (two singles briefly climbed Billboard’s Hot 100 in the states) the pressure of being labeled a next big thing seemed to pass with each album that followed.

Now with a few years of sobriety under his belt, some fans have begun to ask if he can do the same stellar work without the boozy muse. Though no song on the album is the equal of “Come Pick Me Up,” or “Rescue Blues,” or “La Cienega Just Smiled,” there are moments that come close. The title track “Ashes and Fire” and “Lucky Now” are prime examples of Adams hitting his sweet spot.  The question is, when you are in the mood for the more introspective version of Ryan Adams, do you listen to paler material simply because it is new, or do you dig out the albums that you already love? I’ve listened through Ashes and Fire a dozen times or so, and there’s not a clunker track to be found. But I don’t find myself connecting with the melancholy tones Adams has a knack for tossing out. When I listen to Ashes and Fire the songs sound too reminiscent of other artists’ singles, and while I love the expressive ache in his voice, ultimately it’s like hearing a great hitter in baseball fail to make good contact with the ball. Sure, it’s a beautiful high-arcing shot to center, but the sound was the first hint the ball will fall short and land harmlessly in the glove of the waiting outfielder. As prolific as Adams has proven to be, I’m sure he has another album on deck just waiting to swing away. Maybe that will be the album I’ve been waiting for.

About the author: Brent Fisk is the Circulation /Information Assistant at WKU Library’s Visual & Performing Arts Library. Brent is also an accomplished author, poet and former owner of ”Box of Rocks.”