Ryan Adams, currently touring England, is tinkering with material from (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? and some accompanying B-sides his own tribute version of the Oasis-masterpiece together.
At least from a media point of view, Adams (despite everything) may still be a persona non grata – but there is obviously still an interest in the musician’s releases: that the self-distribution of Morning Glory runs a little unevenly, has less to do with the fact that the free download is only available in a not completely satisfactory 160 kbit version (before a variant in better quality is submitted later for any streaming services), but with the fact that it even following purchasing the record, which can be purchased free of charge, is not possible for hours because I will pay whether the demand is obviously so overloaded (spoiler: the reviews too Nebraska and Blood on the Tracks are among the most read articles of the recent past Heavy Pop).
Apart from this small technical faux pas (which one cannot and does not want to interpret negatively anyway due to Adams’ renewed generosity in offering the record for free once more), the 48-year-old does with his interpretation of Morning Glory but practically there is hardly anything really wrong – even the once once more much too exaggerated use of reverb on the voice only rarely occurs this time (such as at the beginning of the ultimately embellished with strings, which gracefully sinks into its grandiose atmosphere Cast No Shadow) negative on.
Morning Glory (Ryan’s Version) ultimately lives above all from his considered mood, which throttles the song material leaning far back into dark melancholy and shows a depth that suits the material excellently.
Same Hello exchanges the spirit of optimism for a worn-out thoughtfulness, in the end even gives dark synths to the reverberation, before the latently brighter, clearer one Hey Now sounds like a distressed Kurt Vile number with all the time in the world. Some Might Say quietly and sadly revels in the general reticence regarding the keyboard swathes before She’s Electric (as anti-rock with crooked, fisting double vocals and a relaxed, easy-going rhythm) and (the bulbous one) Talk Tonight sail relaxed. The quiet devotion Don’t Look Back In Anger chooses the intrinsic vulnerability instead of the anthem, so even with a few subtly kitsched strings it doesn’t seem bilious at all, which is also the case for the orchestral finale of the Real Estate-Anachronism Rocking Chair applies, meanwhile Headshrinker bluesy, rocking, cool and the title song is exemplary, as if Neil Young had arrived at the number with a strangely loose, springy groove, howling, sizzling at the back.
It doesn’t work quite as well as the whimsical Roll With Itthat almost Merchandise shows from any perspective running alongside without chutzpah and momentum; in the favour Acquiesce ripple the guitars and rusty harmony vocals; the update Wonderwall (2023 Version) fails relatively redundantly because of its thoroughly legendary predecessor; and Champagne Supernova drowns in reverb at first, then becomes more coherent when the drums kick in, but ultimately remains underwhelming even with symphonic touches.
Nevertheless: as a whole, the stylistically and aesthetically so homogeneous Morning Glory has become a surprisingly engaging affair, which Adams himself describes best: “It’s been meticulously mastered and has real british string sections, raw and beautiful guitars and I did my best to keep the essence of this masterpiece but look for new meaning, a new way to tell this story… by taking the long way round. It’s maybe my favourite thing I ever made. Weirdly like Love is Hell had a brother from another mother maybe. You’ll feel like you’re watching Corrie in 1986 but if you were a slightly damaged American greaser.„
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