I've been taking solace from Ryan Adams' new album Prisoner over the past month or so. It came to me via John Mayer, a fellow American singer-songwriter-producer. Prisoner is what I was kinda hoping Mayer's new album The Search for Everything, released in entirety today, would be.
Not to take anything away from Mayer. Many of Search for Everything's tracks are what I sonically hoped they'd be, and their subject matter has definitely resonated.
But Adams' album has really made its way in to my soul. It's an unabashed break-up album in the wake of his divorce from Mandy Moore.
I don't know where this is going, but it seems to have had a deep effect. The past few weekends since summer ended have found myself listening to it loudly. Suppose in the quieter moments I seek whatever it has to offer. It's a sad album, to be sure, though not languishing in sorrow.
There's a defiance, and though am less familiar with Ryan Adams' back catalogue, there's an irony in that I wonder whether Moore would be attracted to the peacock's tail on display in the songwriting and producing prowess of Prisoner.
My intuition would say she's well and truly moved on, and such a solid album about her would be near-embarrassing to bear listening. I theorise women are perhaps a little better moving on emotionally, but that's just supposition.
I ought to make a point sometime soon, but don't quite feel like it yet. Maybe I have a hunger to show the peacock's tail and make something great. It takes work, and feel as though am up to it, if am able to keep level-headed. Something that really gets under people's skins and in to their souls. Something that makes people sad, purely from recognition of those feelings emoted in the work reflected back on them. Why sadness in contrast to mirth? I guess I like the former more.