On being 7 in 1993 or It is Undoubtedly Raining in Baltimore.
Darlings,
I saw The Counting Crows live tonight for the first time since probably the early 00s. That was too long of a break and I vow to never let it happen again.
Let me back up. You might remember the wildfires we had here in early October (I would forgive you if you don't as most of you don't live here and there is a heck of a lot else going on in the world right now to keep you occupied) - well, they were absolutely devastating to the community here. So many people lost their homes, lost loved ones and lost normalcy. There's a lot of rebuilding to do, but the resiliency of this community is truly inspiring.
The company I work for decided to throw a benefit concert to both raise money and help in healing. We've been working pretty hard over the past few weeks to get it together, to make it the best it can be and to raise as much money as possible. And it turned out to be a great success! In fact, if you are interested in making a donation, you can by texting GREEN to 56512. All of your donations will go to the North Bay Fire Relief Fund.
The headliner of tonight's benefit concert were none other than The Counting Crows. A band who by the numbers has literally killed it over their 25 year tenure. Yea, twenty five years. Let that sink in. Loved by some and loathed by some, The Counting Crows are in my opinion a musical force to be reckoned with.To be quite honest, darlings, I don't remember a time in my life when The Counting Crows weren't present or at least omni-present. Their first album, August and Everything After, came out in 1993, when I was the ripe old age of 7. Do I really remember much before 7? My dad had the album. My dad had lots of albums, but I liked this and Vitalogy the best (my parents are amazing in many ways, but one of the greatest gifts they gave me was introducing me to really great music from many different genres very early. I consider it a great life skill to be able to sing along to Donna Summer, Pearl Jam, Edwyn Collins and Chris Isaac in a row.).
From the first listen until this very moment, The Counting Crows have been a part of my life.-----Einstein on the Beach is the first song that made me feel like I had discovered something that nobody else knew about. Colorblind signaled awkward and authentic early intimacy to me for a very long time. I found solace in Perfect Blue Buildings - a song that I thought explained my own personal demons better than I could have ever articulated. I could probably go on and on. About how I still think of my ex-boyfriend when Mr. Jones comes on, because one of the clearest memories I have of him is strumming his guitar, singing it with his heavy Spanish accent. About how the entirety of Recovering the Satellites reminds me of the first few years after my parents got divorced. Or that I was so inspired by Hard Candy in high school that part of my senior project was inspired by it.
Maybe because they wrote a delightfully saccharine filled theme song for Shrek 2 (which btw was nominated for an Oscar) or maybe because Duritz could be construed as an eccentric front man with a taste for Hollywood Golden Girls, it seemed like over the years, the respect for the band wilted. And I would like to use my tiny piece of the world wide web to tell you something real.
The Counting Crows are an exceptional band and should go down in history as one of the best bands of the 21st century.
Last night I was having a conversation with friends about why it's OK to love Bruce Springsteen but not Billy Joel. I personally love them both. Nobody could pinpoint a reason further than he's a pop singer from Long Island and Bruce is well, Bruce. So, darlings, here's a question - Why is it OK to Idolize Wilco but not The Counting Crows?
Tonight the band performed a two and a half hour set. TWO AND A HALF HOURS. And it was a tight as hell two and a half hours. These guys know what they are doing and they do it well. Duritz's voice sounds the same as it did the first time I heard those opening "Sha la las" of Mr. Jones (what about that tambourine? Do you remember it? I do).That voice. That voice that can only be described as silky salinity full of visceral longing for all things unrequited.
If that voice were personified, it would be the Arcangel Michael as portrayed by John Travolta as a sugar addicted, hyper seductive chain smoker.
Darlings, close your eyes - this is accurate.
It was a full band - two pianos, that perfect tambourine, an accordion that touched the deepest depths of my heart, a SYNTHESIZER (aka the most important and magical instrument of them all) and of course that light touch of Harmonica that any gal who easily falls in love with musicians craves. The musical talent of this band is insane. Similar to how I feel about The Roots, I think The Counting Crows have been playing together so long that they are almost morphing into a next generation Jam Band, which is epic. They have so expansive of a catalogue and so innate of a relationship that it feels like they are able to seamlessly expand and contract words, notes and melodies on stage, a rubber band of sound, as if their momentary emotions were aligned and dictating the music as opposed to rehearsals dictating the nuances of the live performance.
From the balcony I fell in love with both the Canadian Tuxedoed Charlie, the multi talented percussionist whose perfect grey coif never floundered during the entirety of the show and whose Accordion playing left me feeling like an indie rock version of Amelie, and Spiky Haired Dave who moved so deftly between literally shredding on his guitar and gently picking a mandolin that it gave me chills. The absolute versatility of this band was eyeopening.
Opening with an extended version of "Round Here," Duritz gave me exactly what I didn't know I needed - a view of a grown man who can still relate to the discomfort of being young and unsure of anything with but a belt of the vocals and a series of staccato physical movements truly unique to him. What was truly unbelievable, though, is that after listening to this song for 25 years, the resonance is still overwhelming. I'm sure I had no idea what I was singing along to as a 7 year old, and probably didn't even consider the lyrics when it blasted like white noise through adult contemporary stations over the last twenty years, but as a 30something constantly on the verge, I understand Maria with the suitcase in her hand and her walls crumbling down and her inability acting normal when she's nervous.
I think there's something significant to be said about a song that you can know for 25 years but not really know until the moment makes sense. From there, they captivated the crowd with numerous hits off "Recovering the Satellites," "This Desert Life," a rendition of "Omaha" so perfect I nearly cried and a jam band-esque cover of "Ain't Going Nowhere," which darlings, is one of my favorite songs to see covered live.
Side note - one of my favorite live covers of this was at an afterparty at Newport Folk Festival led by Jim James (also, note that I was reunited with an exceptionally talented old friend that night when I saw him on the side of the stage playing the bongo!)
I would also be remiss not to note that they covered Teenage Fanclub's "Start Again," which was all at once uplifting and heartbreaking.(another side note: Darlings, did you know that Ben Gibbard recently released a full remake of Bandwagonesque? It's dark and broody and I love it.) They wrapped up with an encore of "Rain King," and my personal favorite "Holiday in Spain." Throughout the evening, Duritz delighted the crowd with pithy quips about their tour and his drinking habits, unusual physical responses like laying underneath the piano as the band around him built out every track into an all encompassing circle of sound and being human - he stopped for a bit to tie his shoe (safety is no accident, darlings) and tripping over the monitors at the top of the stage.
The Counting Crows are also kings of the "Sha La Las" and the "Na na nas" and darlings, you know that if there is one thing I can always get down with it's a "na na na." The lyrics of Adam Duritz are truly a gift. Well, they are least a gift to me, dealing with anxiety and depression in flowery, poetic riddles that ask the listener to not only listen, but to also ask back - almost a silent call and response. I mean, darlings, is it possible that I am overthinking this? Yes. 100%. But for me, they resonate. Duritz has a public history with his own mental health and as you all know, darlings, I have my own fun in that space too. To me, his lyrics are the way anxiety manifests itself into half awake dreams during long bouts of insomnia. Troubles at work turn into big top circuses and issues with intimacy become crumbling skeletons. There is a place in the mind where things that are real turn into things that are ethereal because if they stay real, life gets the better of you.
Duritz has a true talent for articulating the space where the real turns into the ethereal and the ethereal turns into the real. He is a poet and his poems soothe me.Tonight touched me in so many ways. A community coming together to help those who hurt, musicians gifting their gifts to soothe and for me personally, taking a cathartic trip down an incredibly long memory lane.Oh and one other very important thing. The swoon factor of Adam Duritz has been very high for me from the get-go, so this entire assessment could be based on my almost lifelong crush on that eccentric frontman with a penchant for Hollywood Golden Girls and therefore null and void. But to be honest darlings, I'm pretty sure it's all completely valid.Go listen to music that makes you feel
.xoxolcf
