PROUD TO LIKE BRYAN
Bryan Adams sure is cute. And sexy. Onstage at Madison Square Garden, he’s the rock ’n’ rolling (yeah, I’ve read the bio) all-American (wet) dream in the flesh, grey T-shirt, and old jeans rolled up at the cuffs. I guess I should point out that in a recent issue of this hallowed rag, Richard Riegel also described Adams as all-American—but on the downside: “in a displayed-at-the-checkout sense."
PROUD TO LIKE BRYAN
BRYAN ADAMS Madison Square Garden June 18, 1987
Jim Feldman
Bryan Adams sure is cute. And sexy. Onstage at Madison Square Garden, he’s the rock ’n’ rolling (yeah, I’ve read the bio) all-American (wet) dream in the flesh, grey T-shirt, and old jeans rolled up at the cuffs.
I guess I should point out that in a recent issue of this hallowed rag, Richard Riegel also described Adams as all-American—but on the downside: “in a displayed-at-the-checkout sense." Me, I’m thinking of Huck Finn, Ricky Nelson, Wally Cleaver, My Three Sons’ Robbie Douglas. He bounces around the stage like the scrappy kid next door, whose uncontrolled energy invariably leads to some pretty cool mischief; when he stops, he curls himself around a railing, peeks at some fans through hanging cables, and grins his way through a sweat-from-the-brow maneuver. But he’s also a guy even your mother likes to have over for dinner; he’s charming and considerate as he accepts a bouquet from a girl down front—“Thank you for the lovely flowers. That’s very nice of you.”