Ryan Adams

The old bear trap on the stage routine.

By Matt Soccio

Before attending the recent Ryan Adams show in Melbourne, I had severe reservations as to whether or not it was really worth the effort of losing a Wednesday night to see the Indie equivalent of John Mellencamp.

Apart from thinking he was a complete twat, I had no other opinion of his music and therefore had no incentive to go, apart from the fact I was being dragged there by a crazed Ryan Adams fan. Gritting everything my body would allow me to grit, I drove out to St Kilda (yep I didn't even get a chance to drink my way through the gig) to the 'hanging on by a thread' venue The Palace.

From the size of the line out the front of the venue there's no shortage of people willing to don their Indie apparel for the Alt-country/new wave rocker gracing Australia's stages, touring on the back of his new album Cold Roses. After hearing rumours about a tantrum Adams threw at Sydney 's Splendour in the Grass festival, I began to think that this gig wouldn't be so bad.

As it turns out, the best thing I could have done to prepare myself for this gig, was to not expect anything at all. Adams, who I thought would be broody and completely out of his head, was quite funny and talkative, in fact having regular three minute conversation intervals between his songs. He mentioned his little spaz at Splendour (going on to say the critics have dubbed him “volatile and unpredictable”) and spoke freely about his Australian tour and his quite obvious drug addiction. But his songs in the first two hours were concise and entertaining; a slower version of New York, New York was a highlight, and the more country styled Oh Carolina was requested ferociously by the crowd.

Looking like a cross between Curt Cobain and a mad scientist, Adams flounced across the stage, drinking, smoking and swearing. Admittedly it was a much better gig than I had expected but by the third hour, when the drugs took hold and Adams couldn't remember how to play his songs, the novelty had worn off. Ending the set with a Sabbath-styled stoner jam, the crowd was tired and perhaps a little disappointed.

I laughed my arse off.