Torrential creativity has fast-forwarded the artistic evolution of former Whiskeytown frontman Ryan Adams from country-rock boy wonder (see Faithless Street) to despondent troubadour with a 1960s fixation (his solo debut Heartbreaker), but it may also explain why listeners often need to wade through some pedestrian material just to find a few pearls of poetic excellence. Gold is no exception to that trend, a sometimes engaging middle-of-the-road roots-pop album that's both overlong (70 minutes) and at times overindulgent. There are high spots--such as the bouncy, breezy opener "New York, New York" and the plaintive ballad "When the Stars Go Blue" (which features a vocal turn reminiscent of Morrissey)--but much of the disc gets lost in forests of indistinct guitars and plodding percussion that never nudges Adams into actually rocking. Gold is the work of a notoriously prolific songwriter who hasn't yet learned to play to his strengths, one whose execution doesn't yet match his vision. --Anders Smith Lindall