Atticus   

I had never heard of Ryan Adams.

But suddenly during fall 2001, his name was coming up in entertainment news and his video was all over VH1 because of some song called “New York, New York.” I paid little attention, seeing only snippets of the coverage or the airplay.

So that’s why my first thought was “Who is this tool exploiting Sept. 11, and what record company needs its butt kicked for fueling it?”

If I had actually paid attention to the video or read a complete story about the song, I would’ve realized both were recorded prior to the terrorist attacks. But I didn’t. So I sort of wrote off Ryan Adams as just another hipster singer/songwriter.

But then people whose musical tastes closely match mine began mentioning him to me, asking whether I was a fan. So I began keeping an eye on him.

Last year I was intrigued when he released three albums, one solo and two with The Cardinals. A guy who pulls a stunt like that has got to be focused on the music rather than the fame, I figured.

I finally caved this past summer. I got all three.

I’ve listened to others here and there since that time, but Cold Roses has more or less been the soundtrack to my last six months.

I never tire of it. It may be my favorite album of all time.

So much for first impressions.