So many right?
Fucking Ryan Adams had to get happy, didn’t he? But his five solo albums from 2000 to 2005 were some of the most relentlessly, heartbreaking, wrecked, destroyed, self-destructive mindfucks (and his mind being fucked, not yours) you’ll ever heat. “There’s no guaranteeeees” he whinied on “Political Scientist”. Well, quite.
After him, I’d mention some early (BUT EARLY EARLY -like pre-Lifted) Bright Eyes. Conor keeps on claiming his heart is begining to beat again, but it keeps on missing a couple of em.
For some reason I can cry when I listen to Judee Sill if I really, really feel like it. In all her dreams of transcendence there is something about her inability to fulfil her life than feels reflected in her music.
But really, my slit my wrister is Ryan Adams. I mean, what can you do with a guy who calls a song “Cry On Demand”. “But the truuuuth, the truuuuth is I miss you….”
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