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Arriving at York Opera House I join a gaggle of confused people, left to wander round the theatre, with no idea of when the gig will start. Judging by reports from Leeds the night before, eight o'clock looks likely but by quarter past the stage is still empty and seats are only beginning to fill. The promised "special guests" never show but, half an hour on, Ryan Adams and the Cardinals step on stage to a familiar reception.
Characteristically intense and drawn out, the first song is started off by fluid but uneasy electric riffs. All at once the jazz cum blues-rock with a country swing sound that makes Adams' stuff so hard to pin down was underway as the crowd fell into mesmerized silence.
The smooth vocals coming from his backing band, The Cardinals, stand out behind Ryan’s, but he sure delivers when it comes to emotion, his body somehow remaining standing though his knees bend and his feet writhe. Occasionally he leans right towards the mic or over his guitar, dancing like a slowed-down Jagger. In some sense, he’s on his own up there, screaming out repeated lines like the desperate “I don’t know where I live / I used to live on Broadway”. Refreshingly he allows himself only modest limelight at the side of the stage, the low lighting just letting his dark t-shirt, jeans and trainers make their point alongside the straight backs and assorted shirts, ties and waistcoats of his band.
You probably have like… fuckin’ dragons here, breathing fire...
The air is tense and captivating when the group isn’t making music together and Ryan seems to be having a few issues with feedback. But it’s cool, and he cracks a joke or two in his New York drawl - husky and barely audible - and takes up a place behind the piano. The result is powerful, vital and visually hypnotic, lights zigzagging and fading from one colour to another, the backdrop lit up like tiny stars, complementing an instrumental to get lost in. “Cold roses…” the group groans in harmony, ending a truly varied first half that has mixed soulful lyrics, playful little bridges, and great big rock explosions. Adams moves the conversation on to York’s castle… We “probably have like… fuckin’ dragons here, breathing fire...” He seems impressed, but taking his time, with nothing to prove. I’m hypnotised and the crowd is clearly in heaven, affectionately calling encouragement between songs, and laughing along at his sense of humour which is at once so awkward and so likeable.
Later, though, something remarkable happens as Adams finds a wholly renewed resolution. Whether it was the guy who pissed him off a bit by loudly shouting “Get on with it” just before the interval, or dodgy judgement on the part of one of the sound-blokes, or something extra in the brilliant 'Goodnight Rose' itself, Ryan’s vocals have been turned up and he’s really bloody going for it. The performance has gone from stilted, intimate and slow-paced in the lengthy first half to seamless and awe-inspiring in the much shorter second, meaning that this is a much better showcase of what these guys have got. This contrast fitted perfectly, so when Ryan thanked us briefly and strode off-stage I don’t think anyone was expecting it to actually end.
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