Ryan Adams has always convincingly played dress-up, whether portraying the blue-collar balladeer, the petulant if corrigible bad boy, or the corduroy-country star. Granted, his authority on "dime-store gin" and double-shifts at the factory can feel as inauthentic as the $200 bedhead, but the erratic quality of his work has always brought on bigger trouble: Among the schlockabilly and cheesecake rock of the three LPs he... More >>>