Counting Crows – A History of Emotion – Part 1

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