(by Owen Griffiths, pic by Maciej Dakowicz)
Ryan Adams has spent the last few years becoming a parody of himself, so the world really doesn’t need some pseudo American called Anthony something or other trying to replicate his efforts. All the songs are delivered in a mid Atlantic drawl, involve his poor broken heart and the same tired chords shuffled in a slightly different order. The cellist had some nice ideas though, she should jump ship because you can’t trust a British man in a denim shirt.
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