It wasn't pretty, but Ryan Adams showed up

It's not often that a show is stopped so the artist can go backstage to get a cortisone shot, or blow his nose onto the floor, or constantly sift through a stack of papers, or pour glass after glass of red wine, or light cigarettes and chain-smoke for 90 minutes.
But for the quirky Ryan Adams, none of that seemed unusual Sunday night at the Moore, where the prolific singer-songwriter played a long, somber, unrelentingly slow acoustic concert of mostly love ballads.
On a darkened stage, amid swirls of cigarette smoke, the geeky Adams, in suit-coat over shirt, tie and jeans, switched from guitar to grand piano, taking a lot of time between songs, when he would shuffle those papers, amble backstage to get a light, talk to himself or to unseen people backstage, and generally act squirrely, which is his trademark.
At least he showed up — his favorite trick is to cancel shows, which he has done here several times — and for that the big audience seemed thankful, and indulgent. They calmly sat through the delays and distractions, and seemed to appreciate all 18 songs, although they were an uneven bunch, with many sounding alike.
Adams said he needed a cortisone shot because of pain in his wrists so, about three-quarters into the set, he walked offstage and was gone for 10 minutes. He never went without a cigarette in his mouth, often dangling one on his lip while singing.
He opened with "Sweet Lil Gal" and continued on a love theme all night. Most songs were romantic but a few were caustic, such as a new one he said was named "Yes, It's Also Your Fault #8." One of the best was another new one, a bittersweet, well-written "Don't Get Sentimental On Me."
The set included some of his best songs, including the wry, poetic "La Cienega Just Smiled" and the heartfelt, nostalgic "Dear Chicago." Other songs included "Call Me On Your Way Back Home," "Please Do Not Let Me Go," "Elizabeth, You Were Born to Play That Part" and "A Kiss Before I Go."
Adams identified the opening act, Jesse Malin, as his "best friend," and Malin said the same of Adams (who produced Malin's "The Fine Art of Self-Destruction" CD). Malin was a lively, facile, thoroughly competent singer-songwriter whose material was a lot more diverse than Adams'.
For Adam's set list, see the Rock Desk blog at www.seattletimes.com.
Patrick MacDonald: 206-464-2312, pmacdonald@seattletimes.com


Sunday, Moore Theatre, Seattle