January, 2007:

A History of Emotion: Personal reflections on the words and music of Counting Crows

Part 3: Capital “A” Confessions

It was fitting at the time of this writing that I was listening to “August…” on random and the album on that particular run through began with the song “Omaha” and the line “Start tearing the old man down.” That’s exactly what Adam had just unwittingly set out to do. As much as he was already struggling with identity, the problem was about to get worse and probably never recede. “Hey mister if you’re gonna walk on water, could you drop a line my way? Hey mister you don’t wanna walk on water, cause you’re only gonna walk all over me.”

Well I got bones beneath my skin, hey mister
There’s a skeleton in every man’s house
Beneath the dust and love and sweat that hangs on everybody
Is a dead man trying to get out

Of course the old man never does get out completely, and sometimes it seems he’s hidden under more and more layers.

I wanna get me a little oblivion baby
Try to keep myself away from me

If I may invoke a bit more Christian terminology: Adam is well aware of his fallen-ness. Whether or not he would acknowledge it as such is irrelevant to me. In reaching for his reality as he does he reminds me of things that I believe. Coming to them as I have through my faith is probably a different path than Adam has taken but we’ve both learned some of the the same things: humans are destructive, and often self-destructive. And attention and adulation only makes it worse… and Adam has a lot more of that to deal with than I do.

Keep myself away, how am I gonna keep my self away… from me?

His “self” is more ubiquitous than mine; his secret faults may not be greater than mine but they are probably amplified in his head by millions of adoring fans who believe he is something more than he really is. If only they knew.

For the perfect closer there is “A Murder of One” with another refrain that brings me, again not because of any particular resonance, to tears:

I will walk along these hillsides
In the summer neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight
Falling down on meChange, change, change

Without explanation during this part of the song I found myself at one time on my knees, tears forming, arms raised in praise to God. It was an experience that took me by surprise. Does Adam believe in this same God? Was this song written in praise to Him? I don’t find any reference to Adam commenting on Christianity, but knowing that he is Jewish tells me that while we know of the same God, if Adam is practicing at all we would differ in our thinking about Jesus. That this song can evoke such a response from me is a credit to both Adam Duritz and to God. Ultimately, the credit goes to a creator who blesses his creations, those who call Him Lord and those who do not, with the gift of creativity.

This wasn’t meant to be overly religious but a proper recounting takes all experiences into account. And if some of these admissions seem more than a little confessional, bearing thoughts that might usually only be divulged on the psychiatrist’s couch, well, I call it returning the favour to Adam Duritz, who for 13 years now has let me in on his confessions.

“Change, change, change…” – the final words on the album that begins:

Step out the front door like a ghost into a fog
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white
And in between the moon and you angels get a better view
Of crumbling difference between wrong and right

Well I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again
Where? I don’t know
And Maria says she’s dying, through the door I hear her crying
Why? I don’t know

To me its just poetry in plainer man’s terms, far more accessible than the high poetry of those officially known as poets. The attraction is his willingness to admit failure and weakness and pain – that is, to admit being human, and to document emotion without wallowing in it. This is a transparency rarely found in popular music on such honest, vulnerable terms.

It is a shame that one thing that prevents a writer like Adam Duritz from attaining the sort of “credibility” of a virtually unknown writer like Mark Heard is that Adam is famous and became famous after just one album. Becoming well known, it seems, especially so early in the game, is a poison to your credibility as a capital “A” artist.

An old friend of mine discovered The Spin Doctors about 6 months before they broke big. He evangelized me, turned me on to them and when I was in the thick of listening to “Pocket Full of Kryptonite” on repeat they broke out, had a hit single and as a consequence he lost his jones for them completely. For those desiring artistic credibility, take heed lest ye sell too many albums.

I’ve bought into this scam so many times: love an artist as long as they’re under the radar, and the ones that are perpetually underexposed get saintly status, especially once they have half a dozen albums or so out and not one hit single. Then, and only then, can they have a hit and still maintain their insider cred.

I have so many of these things people used to buy – CDs I think they’re called – that have no value to me that I probably paid close to $20 each for that are total must-haves for friends of mine. Over the Rhine is a band I just don’t get and yes, for all of you whose jaws just hit the floor, you’ve often succeeded in making me feel inferior because of this – but no more. I’ve tried many times over the years to like them and ended up selling their CDs to some of you for much more than I paid for them (I found them in discount bins, BTW). I think you’re a fool; you think I’m a fool; everybody goes home happy.

In my old age now, in all my 31 and a half years, I’ve finally learned not to care who’s known and unknown and about-to-break and cool with the kids and underexposed and whatever other filters you can name. I just embrace what embraces me.

I’m a promiscuous music listener and have been all my adolescent, teen, and adult life and there are artists I keep coming back to when the flavour of the day/week/month/year wears out for me – that is if they ever gained any traction in the first place. You know I must love these artists because I keep their relics on my shelves, not quite able to part with them even though I will probably never again find occasion to play them in a CD player.

They are long digitized and not of any practical use, yet there they sit. They are nearly sacred objects, representations of my history with their contents, and so I am not able to part with them.

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Go to Part 4

A History of Emotion: Personal reflections on the words and music of Counting Crows

Background and Disclaimer

This is not a background check, a blow-by-blow report of the Crows history, or a biography of Adam Duritz. This is an account of how the words and music of the Counting Crows has affected me. I won’t claim that all my historical facts are 100% accurate, but I will claim that the accounting of their effects is accurate because these are things that happened to me, inside my head and out. So I don’t mind if you correct my history, clarify my details, or point out glaring factual errors because the nature of memory works in a way that some facts are magnified and others are diminished.

I do not read a lot of music journalism because, and I guess this is ironic considering the type of piece I am writing, I find most of it either lacks insight or elevates an artist to such a level that they are inaccessible and therefore of less use to me. I have no doubt that some will come away from this writing with either or both of those impressions, but I will try to walk between.

This type of writing is bound to evoke polarized responses. It tends be so personal that you either love the artist being written about as much as the author and you identify with his sentiments or you have no love at all for the artist and can’t figure out why on earth someone would spend so much time writing on the subject, in which case you will probably stop reading after the title or, at best, the first paragraph.

I read quite a long and articulate piece a couple of years ago written by someone who nevertheless harboured an unhealthy obsession with the band “My Morning Jacket”. Even after spending much time with their music I couldn’t hear what he was hearing, but there was passion in the writing and for that reason it was worth reading and he at least got me to check out the band. If enough people did the same, I’m sure new fans were born. I hope to do the same thing here. If you are already a fan, this will probably cause you to pop in the Crows CDs, or queue up the MP3s on your iPod; if you are not a fan, I hope you’ll read and then listen and then reconsider your position; if you’re sitting on the fence, here’s a chance to be born as a fan.

For the most part I am an untainted observer and in some ways more objective than most. I’m a music listener and not a music watcher, having seldom had access to MuchMusic or MTV and not all that interested in their content for the short times that I did have access. I don’t take much interest in music press either so my impressions of the artists I write about is based on what they claim is of chief importance to them: their music. I did read Rolling Stone and Spin for a time in the mid-nineties when the Crows were rising to prominence so no doubt that reading factors into my impressions, but since that time I can’t remember reading articles of any length in music mags that are likely to cover a band like the Crows.

I mention all that that to say that whatever PR machine exists, it hasn’t reached me very often. Basically the only image put forth of the band that gets through to me is the one contained in the photos and liner notes of the CD inserts. In my opinion, it is the responsibility of the artist to control their image as much as it is possible, but the album project and accompanying artwork is their chance to publish a printed reference manual to accompany the music. For example, the very fact that the Crows have never used a band photo as an album cover speaks volumes about what this band believes in.

I hear about a new album; I buy the new album; I am affected by it. This is my attempt to recount those effects.

Miami

There is something about the song “Miami” that makes me cry. Well, not always cry but at least well up with tears. It always has from the first few times I heard it. There is a profound sadness in this song from its minimal, cold beginning to its grand crescendo end. It’s the type of emotionally evocative song Adam Duritz seems so good at writing.

The tears don’t always come at the same part. Sometimes they come at the beginning, realizing which song has come up and anticipating the emotional ride I’m about to take. Sometimes it’s at the end where Adam Duritz lays it all out singing, almost yelling, nearly to the point of distorting the recording “Let’s go shut it down in New Orleans”.

The subject matter in particular is not what affects me; it’s the emotional impact of the delivery. I suspect this is one reason people think its uncool to like the Crows – they’re a bit too sincere and that doesn’t play well to my sarcastic, ironic, hipster, smart-ass generation. They’ve sold a lot of albums too and I don’t think all the “indie” rocker, Pitchfork-reading types are allowed to have big sellers in their “I would die for” lists.

I’ll admit, from the few times I’ve ventured online to get caught up on the Crows, most often my impression is that Adam could do us all a favour and close his mouth when there are no musical notes coming out of it. Of course what’s most important is what’s coming out that is accompanied by notes of the musical scale. So go nuts online Adam – I’m not listening.

Even so, I’ve liked them from the start… since, that is, they were almost squeezed off Letterman by Madonna.

I don’t even know what Duritz is trying to convey in the song “Miami” and frankly I’m OK with that. For all his lyrical and emotional brilliance, when he speaks / blogs he seems insufferably whiny and usually lacks eloquence. It seems there is a dichotomy between the words he writes to be put to music and the ones he uses to express himself outside of his art. This dichotomy exists for many musical artists although there are a few, Bill Mallonee for example, whose prose is every bit as gripping as their lyrics. (Maybe the next phase of this project will be exploring interviews and blog posts to get a better idea of who Adam is off-stage. Then again, maybe that’s not the best idea.)

I guess I think I feel alright, it comes circling through the light
The skyline baby is bright tonight
What more perfect rendezvous, the sundown paints the shadows through
The daylight aiming on what we do
It looks like darkness to me, oh
Drifting down, into MiamiCan I say I wish that this weather would never leave?
It just gets hard to believe that God sent this angel to watch over me
Cause my angel, she don’t receive my calls
She says “I’m too dumb to f—, too dumb to fight, too dumb to see”
Well maybe I don’t need no angel at all…

It looks like darkness to me, oh
Drifting down, into Miami

She can pull the sun right through me, oh
Coming down into Miami, Miami

The guitar solo here reminds me of Greg Keelor’s (Blue Rodeo) in “5 Days in May”. It’s simultaneously misplaced and well placed, as if it was transplanted from another song in which it sounded more appropriate, and yet… it fits here too.

Make a circle in the sand, make a halo with your hand
I’ll make a place for you to land(3:17)
The bus is running, its time to leave
The summer’s gone and so are we
So come on baby let’s go shut it down in New Orleans

The 55 seconds between 3:35 and 4:30 of the song is some of the most glorious known music to my ears. By this time we’re through crescendo almost to the climax. All the elements are going: Adam, full band, glorious BGVs, strings – followed by 30 seconds of sad decay and a dissonant ending bass note.

So why have I just spent this much time writing about a single song? A song I admit has little personal lyrical resonance? For one thing there’s poetry in the lyrics, words so beautifully strung together they have an impact simply by their being there in that order. They tug at the universal, the loneliness we all seem to experience in our lives, Christian and non, those of us who are successes and those who are failures… Aren’t we all both?

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Next Up: Part 2 – Mr. Jones and Me