Whiskeytown, Adams whirl into A2

To some, Ryan Adams is a genius. To others, he is a pariah. While these positions are extremes, it is certain that he is a controversial, compelling and enigmatic figure.

PREVIEW
	Whiskeytown Saturday at 9:30 p.m. Blind Pig with Citizens' Utilities

Meet Ryan Adams - singer, guitarist and chief songwriter of Whiskeytown (playing the Blind Pig tomorrow night).

Adams, 22, leads a band that has released two critically acclaimed albums (including the new "Strangers Almanac") and is recognized by many as the torchbearer of the burgeoning alternative-country scene. But some fans believe that success has gone to his head - and it's true that the band has been unstable. Three of the six members quit just two weeks ago in not the first personnel shakeup in Whiskeytown's brief history.

"This (success) is just as fucking baffling to me as it is to anybody else," Adams said in a recent interview. "I've been 100 percent excited and glad for it, but it really came out of the blue."

This surprise success has been stressful, Adams said. "It's a lot of pressure to put on anybody and I think that those pressures only help to create a weird, strange environment," he said. "You just try not to pay any attention to it, because if you think about it, then you're gonna fucking drive yourself crazy."

Through it all, Adams tries to maintain a sense of perspective, but the glare of the spotlight can have a distorting effect.

Ryan Adams, lead singer of "Whiskeytown," comes to the Blind Pig on Saturday.

"A lot of people put a lot of stuff on us, saying we're 'gonna be the Nirvana of this scene' and all that crap. I just kinda laugh and go, 'You're kidding me, right?' I just try to make sure the band is healthy. I try not to read too much press on the band because it might freak me out."

Much of that press has heaped effusive praise on both band and songwriter. Those who call Adams a genius point particularly to his lyrics, which illuminate a dark landscape of confusion and loss.

While the album is far from flawless, Adams shows flashes of an uncanny ability to cut to the quick. He and the band are at their best when the songs and stories are stripped down - as in the straightforward but heart-rending "House On The Hill," the subtle, devastating "Avenues" and this profound but simple line from "16 Days": "I've got 16 days; 15 of those are nights / Can't sleep when the bedsheet fights / It's way back to your side."

Those who view Adams as a villain or pariah will say that his emotions aren't always expressed only within the confines of his songs, citing instances like Whiskeytown's now-infamous performance at Mac's Bar in Lansing this past summer, when the band played a short and sloppy set before storming off the stage to a flurry of boos, curses and even tomatoes lobbed by the crowd.

"I suppose a lot of (the Mac's audience) went to see their favorite band and it turned into a band that they hated. I can't blame them for that, but that was honestly one of the times when there was so much pressure on us as a band and on me that I think that it got to be too much," he said.

Such incidents, coupled with band members' semi-public infighting and rumored alcohol abuse, contribute to the perception that Adams is a bad guy.

He is also quick to speak his mind, a trait that can rub some the wrong way. For instance, he is less than tactful about his disdain for critics who he feels do not respect the band.

"The Village Voice said something like, 'Old 97's and Whiskeytown are playing; you can be sure that they'll quit doing this as soon as it's not profitable,'" Adams said, relating a preview written last week by legendary critic Robert Christgau. "What an asshole. I was very offended because I have been coming up to New York with my bands since I was 18 years old ... three or four times a year, sometimes more. We never went up there to prove any point and then this fucking Christgau wants to act like we just blew into town last week."

To be sure, a profanity-laden indictment of such a well-respected figure is not usually the way to win fans. But Adams is under tremendous pressure at a young age.

Thrust unexpectedly into the intense gaze of public scrutiny and subjected to relentlessly high expectations, his personal and interpersonal struggles have been complicated and magnified to ridiculous proportions.

Encouragingly, since parting ways with former guitarist Phil Wandscher - the chief protagonist in many of the band's misadventures - in the shakeup two weeks ago, Adams seems to have reflected on his situation with remarkable maturity.

"Whatever talk there might be of how mature I am at 22, people have to remember that there do come mistakes," Adams said. "I am not perfect. It takes me a long time to learn how to be comfortable in my situation.

"And I just couldn't be sorrier, I could never be sorrier for playing a bad show for somebody that paid money to go see something that they believed in and then I'm not even believing in myself. Those are the bad days; those are the bummer days. That's what makes next records, I suppose."

Ryan Adams is neither a genius nor a pariah. He is a human being - at times frighteningly talented, at times just plain frightened.

10-24-97