Of course “the same” is often of such high quality and effortlessness that it’s easy to forget just how hard it can and should be to write so accessibly, proficiently and prolifically. Yet where Beck’s detour into emotionally nuanced territory was a surprisingly mature stylistic departure, Adams’ own move functions essentially as more of the same. Like Beck before him, whose 2002 break-up fueled album Sea Change could be seen as something of a spiritual predecessor, Adams wears his broken heart prominently and unapologetically on his tattered flannel sleeves. Given the dissolution of his marriage to former pop tart Mandy Moore, Adams is ripe for emotionally-charged introspection. Indeed, there is nary a weak track to be found on Prisoner, which offers a solid listen from top to bottom, making it clear that perhaps a little more time between releases might be a good thing in terms of Adams’ lack of self-editing.įor everyone else, Prisoner will likely play as a pleasant enough set of vaguely MOR/’80s singer-songwriter-style emotional paeans. In this, Prisoner provides exactly what fans have come to expect of Adams’ workmanlike approach to song craft, one that has shown a staggering level of overall quality for someone as prolific as Adams has long been. Song titles like “To Be Without You,” “Broken Anyway,” “Anything I Say to You Now” and “We Disappear” offer the illusion of enough self-pity to turn anyway those not familiar with Adams’ very specific aesthetic.įortunately for Adams, the majority of those coming to his work in general will be in the former category and thus know exactly what they will be getting themselves into. Depending on your tolerance for breakup albums, Prisoner will either be the necessary emotional catharsis required to get you through the bitterness of emotional heartache or yet another maudlin exercise in tiring self-indulgence and navel-gazing. While Adams himself has made reference to the title reflecting one’s being a prisoner to time, it would seem more that Adams himself is a prisoner to his own heartbreak – somewhat ironic given the title of his solo debut. Perhaps what makes Adams’ work so resonant is this ability to tap into the universal unconscious from which we pull our emotional connections with the world around us there is nothing revelatory in his lyrical themes, yet the way in which he presents the seemingly mundane proves highly affecting.īlistering lead single (and opening track) “Do You Still Love Me” lays bare the overarching thematic elements of Prisoner. Adams has talked before of his songs existing and being birthed within the moment, as though they simply existed on some other plane and were simply waiting for the right person to come along to act as a vessel for their transition from the ephemeral to the tangible. Yet it’s hard to say for sure whether it’s an emotional or musical familiarity. There’s an immediate sense of familiarity inherent on Prisoner.
The Adams heard here on Prisoner is a far cry from the cocky voice who once posited that to be young was to be sad.
And yet it would seem that these most recent personal blows (divorce, death of friends, etc.) have given Adams pause, causing him to take longer than usual to process that which has directly impacted him. This being his 16th solo studio album since his 2000 debut, Heartbreaker, Adams has, over the course of his catalog, made heartache and loneliness something of a thematic staple. For someone previously as prolific and creatively and personally unfiltered as Ryan Adams has long proven himself to be, the three years in between new releases shows an indication of some larger personal turmoil.
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