The belated return-to-form that
is Ryan Adams' Ashes and Fire is a
reminder of when the guy was on the cusp of fame - and of Hollywood meltdown. On
the eve of Gold's release, the Rev.
Al Friston met Americana's very own hyperactive brat in London--Barney Hoskyns, Editorial Director, Rock's
Backpages
It's a dull
grey Saturday in Kensington, and I have just broken Ryan Adams' dream.
"I was
tryin' to tell a joke to this group of people I didn't know," he says.
"I was standing there with Snoop Doggy Dogg, and I was tryin' to tell the
joke, and I f---in' left out the middle part."
Uh huh.
"Snoop's
going, 'Man, you're f---in' not doing
it right!' And I'm like, 'Shut up!'
And I was tryin' to finish the joke and I ruined it and everybody looked at me
and went, 'Huhh?!' And Snoop was like,
'See, I f---in' told you!'
"And
that's when I woke up..."
Some might see this
dream as a classic allegory of the performer's anxiety; others will wonder why
the former frontman of shambling alt.country
