Rare is the musician who can record an album of avant-garde solo piano, then turn around and write, sing and perform a simple, confectionary pop song called “My Girl My Girl,” which begins with the lines, “Just can’t find one better lookin’/ There ain’t no one that’s got more cookin’.”
Perhaps that’s why more people haven’t heard of Terry Adams. His brand of bold, unrepentant eclecticism does not usually make for a star career. More folks know Adams as the wild man behind the keyboards in the long-beloved and now-defunct cult band NRBQ. That outfit was about as stylistically free-spirited and far-reaching as any that’s fallen under the general rubric of rock ’n’ roll. Adams, who formed the band, and the various musicians who came through it, had an exquisite case of musical ADD.
NRBQ used to bounce from honey-coated, post-Beatles pop to jagged jazz a la Thelonious Monk to silly country tunes to jaunty blues. And more, lots more. They weren’t genre slumming, either; the group played everything convincingly, albeit with a healthy dollop of quirkiness. At the height of their powers, the quartet would even take random requests from the audience and perform (sometimes attempt to perform) songs that they had never played together before.
In the five years since NRBQ’s breakup, Adams’ has forged on with a similarly fearless aesthetic. The central characteristic of his music, from its beginnings in the mid 1960s until now, is a sense of wonder, an almost childlike yen for constant discovery. And when he gets there, he shares his delight with the audience. Along the way, he’s shown a knack for making the complex seem carefree and the simple seem somehow profound.
After a half-hour phone conversation with Adams — not to mention several quickie calls to set up an interview — I feel qualified to say that he’s a one-of-a-kind cat, an eccentric (but not strange) fellow not given to linear thinking.
I ask him why he doesn’t use the NRBQ moniker as a branding device — to, at the very least, pull more folks out to his shows. Adams pauses, seeming to genuinely ponder the option. “I didn’t wanna keep draggin’ the name on,” he replies in a slight drawl reminiscent of his native Louisville. “I dunno, maybe I should.”
Tom Staley, an early NRBQ drummer who’s joining the keyboardist for a few Florida dates as a member of the Terry Adams Crazy Trio, has a more pithy take: “He has more integrity than to call something he’s doing NRBQ,” says the St. Pete resident, who also drums for The Vodkanauts. “He knows people would take offense at that.”
This article appears in Mar 4-10, 2009.
