Rumors About Ryan Adams’s Dating Life, “Summer Of ’69”-Dude Ejection Have Been Greatly Exaggerated
Help, you guys, we can’t stop reading Ry’s Tumblr — and posts like this one are only exacerbating the problem. As you know, D.R. Adams is in the midst of putting together another album (obviously), and he’s sopping up his creative runoff with posts to his blog, Foggy (that’s its name). Usually we get blurbs about Woody Allen or Kim Gordon or shopping in NYC, but yesterday Ryan cleared the air on everything from his love for Winona Ryder to his hatred for country music. First, the dating stuff:
1. I never dated Alanis Morrisette. But she is very nice. But I never even went on a date with her. I met her through Ethan Johns and she was just you know one of the nicest people ever and very inspiring so i thanked her several times on a record I made called GOLD which was over-long and maybe half good.
2. I never dated Winona Ryder, but she is my friend and I will always love her. She is so fucking smart and so fucking under the micro-scope I can’t imagine how she pulled through, but no, I was never her boyfriend. I was and am her friend. She is as hot as the sun in a hot tub on itself though and everybody knows that. Also, who she is as an actress totally inspired me and helped me form what kind of artist I wanted to be.
In fact, because you are dying to know, Ryan’s only dated five women in his life. Then it’s on to the better stuff: the true story of what happened the night of the “Summer Of ’69” heckler…
3. I never KICKED OUT anyone from a concert. The Ryman Auditorium (a shit hole in Nashville) has the balls to charge you for security when you play there but if some college kid, and I mean SOUTHERN college kid decides to get wasted and scream through 7 songs of a solo acoustic performance, they could give a fuck. I went into the audience and handed him what I thought the ticket price was (40 bucks) and asked him to leave. I said “you have successfully ruined this concert so here is your money, now will you go home now so I can at least try and give the rest of this audience what they paid for. It did not work as the woman who runs that shit-hole re-seated him and BELIEVE IT OR NOT people CHEERED when he was ushered to a new seat. As most of that concert were people telling him to “shut up” There was NO BAND just myself, and I was joined by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings (heroic figures to me) to sing a few tunes and still the man screamed over it. In fact, “Summer of 69″ was not shouted when I went to ask him to leave. It was in fact something else. He was so drunk, so very very drunk he did not even know he was there.
The writer who wrote it up the next morning submitted it to AP (the Associated Press) in hopes it would bring him a few extra dollars and some exposure. I have suffered since.
I seriously could give six shits about Bryan Adams or that song. In my opinion he is not a serious artist. His songs have ” implied target market audience” written all over them and in fact he is quite embarrassing in general. Also a piss poor photographer. I guess it is kind of amazing he got to stand next to Tina Turner though. She is rather heroic and an obvious artist. In every sense. Also she was kick ass in Mad Max BeyondfThunderdome and I wish I could coddle her in her chain mail in Barter-Town but that place does not exist.
But wait, there’s more. On drugs:
4. I used to take drugs and drink but I never did that when I was wrirting. Very Rarely. I, like most americans, would seek some kind of peaceful bliss after a bone crushing day. I only used speedballs (snorted not shot) at the end of my drug use, which was parallel to my last romance. I am in recovery for both things.
9. I hate HATE country music. I always have. I “reference” it when I make music that sounds like that, the way a director would use water as a backdrop for a svcene with a shark in it. But I cannot stand country music one bit. unless the Grateful Dead are messin round with it. Then it is tolerable. But they were much more than their single parts- we all know they were a machine.
And now you see why we can’t stop reading, even when we try. Help? More stuff to paralyze you with TMItis for when you inevitably run into Ryan in the East Village right here.