But Adams didn't die. On the contrary, he dove into music with all the messy ambition and headline-grabbing bravado of an artist who sees endless value in his output. He genre-surfed with a reckless petulance reflecting his Americana roots and youthful punk proclivities, traversing modern rock, classic country, shimmering pop, and even one ridiculous stop in hip-hop territory (thankfully as a Web-only posting). He made his semi-successful bid for superstardom with 2001's Gold, and went on to produce a series of uneven releases, from the self-conscious tone of 2003's Rock 'n' Roll to 2005's rudderless 29. Despite occasional flashes of insightful lyricism, the inconsistency of Adams' output shifted his status from "next big thing" to "car wreck in progress."
Adams' childish antics didn't help matters, with an embarrassing array of incidents involving crank calls to critics and myopic onstage meltdowns, and a predictable trail of substance-abuse admissions followed in his wake. A legion of fans has been waiting for Adams to just pull it together and deliver a record that echoes the timeless charm of his debut.
Easy Tiger, Adams' latest release, is that graceful redemption. The disc is reminiscent of the romantic, slice-of-life sketches that lent Heartbreaker a sense of humility, but with a smooth finish that could reignite his chances at mainstream success. From the triumphant mission statement of "Good Night Rose," to the trembling benediction of "I Taught Myself How to Grow Old," Easy Tiger is a return to Adams' solid songwriting abilities and a push forward for an artist who had seemingly lost his footing.
Not that Adams is admitting to a single misstep. "I never had that much ego to begin with; I was just terrified and therefore put on a brave face to get through rough times," he said in a recent phone call. "The best thing to do when you're scared is to act like a dick, right? I felt like every year for me was my freshman year in the music business. If I wasn't able to be tough and act like I belonged, I would have been pushed out. I may have said or done things that seemed outrageous, but I've probably also done things other musicians wish they had done."
There is something admirable in Adams' dogged determination, and in his admissions that perfection only happens with practice. "For me, Love Is Hell and 29 were really about exercising my abilities to their greatest lengths," he says. "Musically and thematically, they happened because I was able to break form."
Perhaps all those creative detours and personal demons are just part of the journey that someone with Adams' inexhaustible drive has to take. And in the end, the songwriter sounds no worse for the wear. "I think I've been nothing but true to myself this entire time — I don't have any regrets," Adams says. "At every moment I felt like a decision I was making would be looked at as ridiculous or difficult, or I was being an asshole or whatever, but it's all led me to where I'm at. At least when I can't sleep, it's not about what I do for a living."
