CD Odyssey Disc 610: Counting Crows

If I’m addicted to music (and I think it likely) then I’ve had a bad week. I bought three albums over the weekend and yesterday I bought two more (an LL Cool J record and a Salt N Pepa record).

As addictions go, it isn’t a bad one, mind you. Music is good for the soul – I’m not sure there’s anything better for it.

Disc 610 is….August and Everything After

Artist: Counting Crows

Year of Release: 1993

What’s up with the Cover? Someone’s very ugly and awkward penmanship, made even harder to read by the printing of a bunch of song lyrics in the background in the same bad handwriting. My handwriting is atrocious – probably the worst I know – but at least I’d know better than to decorate my album cover with it.

How I Came To Know It: This is one of Sheila’s albums – I think she owned it when I met her. She has played it so many times she knows it like the back of her hand, but I’ve only heard it a few times, usually when she puts it on while we’re playing board games.

How It Stacks Up:  We have three counting crows albums.  Before I started listening to this one, I would have guessed my favourite was “Hard Candy” (reviewed back at Disc 331) but now that I’ve given them all a careful ear, I must admit that “August and Everything After” is the best.

And since this is the last Counting Crows album in the collection, here’s a recap:

1. August and Everything After: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
2. Hard Candy: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 331)
3. Self-Titled: 2 stars (reviewed at Disc 477)

Rating:  4 stars

When I rolled this album, my first reaction was disappointment. Not Barry Manilow level disappointment, mind you, but disappointment all the same. After a couple of listens, I am pleased to announce that my initial reaction was very mistaken and that despite all the bitching and moaning on this downer of a record, it is actually a pretty fine album.

Let’s get what I hate about this record out of the way first, so we can mirror my listening experience by ending on an up note.  I’ve hated the song “Mr. Jones” for years. I hate its frantic, directionless riff. I hate the way they try to break it down in the middle and try to make it artsy. I hate the way it starts with Adam Duritz going “la la la la” over and over again like a demented out-of-control toddler at a supermarket. Most of all I hate how overplayed it was. Unlike “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” no amount of time will ever rehabilitate “Mr. Jones” from all the overexposure it received because it just wasn’t any damned good to begin with.

OK, now that this is out of my system, I can turn the rest of this review to what I like about this album, which is quite a lot.

First off, Adam Duritz’ voice, which is used to good effect here. In previous reviews I’ve characterized it as “self-absorbed” and “overwrought” but it avoids both pitfalls here. On “August and Everything After” his voice is powerful and emotionally provocative, framed – but never caged – by his innate gift with phrasing. It is hard to tell if he’s connecting better to the material, or if it is just that the material is so much better. It is likely a bit of both.

The band is best at its quietest, particularly on songs like “Omaha” which I think is both a tribute and an indictment of Middle America wrapped up in one song. “Perfect Blue Buildings” is also a pretty song, with a muted groove to it. I’m not 100 per cent certain what “Perfect Blue Buildings” is about – I think addiction and homelessness. Certainly it is about hopelessness, and the inner demons everyone carries within them to one degree or another. Some people just got it worse. As the narrator notes:

“I got bones beneath my skin, and mister…

There’s a skeleton in every man’s house

Beneath the dust and love and sweat that hangs on everybody

There’s a dead man trying to get out.

Please help me stay awake, I’m falling…

“Asleep in perfect blue buildings

Beside the green apple sea

Gonna get me a little oblivion baby

Try to keep myself away from me.”

As these sad and fatal lyrics wrap up the song, a mandolin comes out noticeably in the mix, adding just the right amount of poignancy to the previously bass-driven tune.

The album is a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride, but it has the right amount of peaks and valleys to work and rarely feels artificial or over-done. The exception is Duritz repeating the line “I really need a raincoat” on “Raining In Baltimore” – that is very badly over-done but it is the exception to the rule, so I’m willing to look the other way.

Production-wise, the record has that layered, busy sound that was very popular in the early nineties. I don’t love that production approach, and think it would benefit in places from a sparser arrangement. However, it works well overall, drawing the nuances out of all the various instruments, and letting them compete individually for their moments with good effect.

The album spawned four top ten hits, yet none of those songs are the best tracks. For all their ability to spawn a pop melody and catch the fleeting audience of radio, “Counting Crows” are at their best when they are quiet and introspective; drawing you in and daring you to pay attention. “August and Everything After” does exactly this, and it is easy to see why it is one of Sheila’s favourite albums. It is deeply emotional, lyrically interesting. Like any good album the more you get to know it, the more you appreciate it.

Sheila said she would give it five stars. I would ordinarily give it three, holding it back one star just because of “Mr. Jones.” However, I’ll be damned if I’ll give that song the satisfaction of pulling the rating down; it doesn’t deserve to matter that much on a record that is otherwise so thoughtful and interesting. Four stars it is.

Best tracks:  Omaha, Perfect Blue Buildings, Anna Begins, Time and Time Again, Sullivan Street

CD Odyssey Disc 477: Counting Crows

After a hard day at the office, Sheila and I got in a late workout at the gym.  Working out doesn’t solve your problems, but it does release endorphins and helps you handle stress.  It is a remarkable thing and it doesn’t just last for the few hours after the workout, it lasts for days to follow.

Before the workout, Sheila and I both worked late and walked home together.  As an added side benefit, since I was walking with someone else I couldn’t give this next album a second listen. 

Disc 477 is…Recovering the Satellites

Artist: Counting Crows

Year of Release: 1996

What’s up with the Cover?  I think it is a shooting star, made out of strung up lights.  Likely it is some commentary on the ephemeral and false nature of fame; fitting for some guys who didn’t experience fame for very long.

How I Came To Know It:  I’m told by lovely wife that she only had four CDs when I met, and that I’m overusing the “Sheila had this when we met” comment.  This is definitely Sheila’s disc, but I’m guessing she bought it at some point after we met.

How It Stacks Up:  When I reviewed “Hard Candy” back at Disc 331 I suggested our three Counting Crows albums were all about equal.  I was wrong, because “Recovering the Satellites” is far inferior to “Hard Candy” and – I sincerely hope – the weakest of all three albums.

Rating:  2 stars

What a lot of pointless bitching and moaning.  That’s the summary review for Counting Crow’s sophomore effort, “Recovering the Satellites.” Listening to this album made me upset all over again at all the people who made “Mr. Jones” a hit and encouraged them to make a second record.

For a band that was coming off a highly successful debut (commercially, at least) you’d think Adam Duritz and the boys would be a little bit happier about their lot in life.  But no, most of the songs on “Recovering the Satellites” drag on like dirges – overwrought, overproduced dirges.

Duritz’s voice is powerful and capable of carrying a lot of emotional content, but when that content is limited to self-absorbed whining this actually makes it worse, not better.  Lyrically, this record just didn’t engage me, but when it did engage me it mostly just irritated me.  Here’s just a few samples.  From the opening track, “Catapult”:

“What a big baby – won’t somebody save me please

You won’t find nobody home.”

From “Daylight Fading”:

“Spend my nights in self-defense

Cry about my innocence”

And my personal anti-favourite, from “Goodnight Elisabeth”:

“If you wrap yourself in daffodils

I will wrap myself in pain.”

I think you get the idea.  This is maudlin narcissism that is supposed to evoke a raw and sensitive side, but comes off as empty bathos instead.

Musically the album is equally overdone.  The production has a lot of superfluous sound that I expect was designed to underscore the emotional content, but instead it makes the songs busy.  Too much is going on at the same time, and even though the band plays tightly, there is just too much sound in too little space.  When it does strip down, the melodies just aren’t that memorable.

Finally, at fourteen songs, many of which are in excess of five minutes the album is bloated and had me glancing at my watch, convinced the hands had stopped moving and I would be trapped on this review for all time.

Luckily right near the end of the record, at Track 12, things final begin to turn around, with the pretty love song “Mercury.”  This song finally lightens up the album after all the sobbery that precedes it.  The love interest in “Mercury” is like the element she’s named after; quick to shift direction and hard to pin down, but the affection that Duritz expressed for her in both lyrics and music are honest and interesting.  Also the production is stripped down, which lets the pretty tune stand out on its own without a lot of mud in the background.  Even Duritz’s voice loses its whine and shows a nice restrained power.

Following “Mercury” is what I think is the best Counting Crows song ever, “A Long December.”  This song returns Duritz to his comfort zone; cranky moping about.  With New Year’s approaching, he bemoans the lost opportunities and collapsed relationships of the past year.  Unlike previously on the record however, he nails it.

If you’ve ever walked around on a winter’s day so depressed that you’re sure the temperate is three degrees colder for you than anyone else, and felt every blow of the wind cut through your bones while everyone else walks through it oblivious, then this is the song for you.  This song is so evocative of the regret of failed relationships it doesn’t just bring the general experience back to me; I can even remember a specific day.

Never mind that Duritz is singing about California – fairly balmy even in winter – let’s give him a pass on that.  He’s not singing about physical cold anyway.

Overall, this album was a failure for me but right near the end the brilliance of “A Long December” and, to a lesser extent, “Mercury” recovers it enough to lift it up to average overall. 

Best tracks:  Mercury, A Long December

CD Odyssey Disc 331: Counting Crows

Some albums, like my last review for Capercaillie, mark important points in my musical development. Others, like this one, have a lesser impact, but still serve to remind me to take each artist on their own merits, without preconceived notions of what I'm going to think.

Disc 331 is...Hard Candy

Artist: Counting Crows

Year of Release: 2002

What’s Up With The Cover?: This cover is not only designed to look like an old style metal candy box, it also contains special clues about the band for the discerning viewer. For example, it indicates the 'candy' was "Est. 1991", which was the year the band was formed, and it indicates '13 Fresh New Flavors', a nod to the fact that the CD has 13 tracks (although actually there is a 'hidden track' that makes for 14, but more on that later). Learning through cover art!

How I Came To Know It: When I first met Sheila, she was a fan of the Counting Crows first two albums. When this one came out, I think I bought it for her as a gift, although she's never really taken to it like the first two.

How It Stacks Up: This is a tough one, partly because I like and dislike all three of our "Counting Crows" albums about the same, each for very different reasons.

I like the overall sound of "Hard Candy" for its consistency, but the high points of "August and Everything After" are higher, and their single best song is on "Recovering the Satellites". I'm going to go with a three way tie, since I don't know any of the records well enough to say with confidence. When I review the last one, I will rank them - scout's honour.

Rating: 3 stars.

Counting Crows were a pretty big deal in the nineties, with big hits like "Mr. Jones" and modest hits like "A Long December", but by 2002 when "Hard Candy" came out, the fickle world of pop and mainstream radio had moved on in search of The Next Big Thing.

This made the album a perfect entry point for me, as I had dismissed this band's first two records in the face of critical acclaim and fan support. If I was to be perfectly honest, I probably dismissed them specifically because of these two things; I'm contrary that way. Also I really hate that song "Mr. Jones." It is truly annoying, but I'll save the bulk of my ire over it for when I review "August and Everything After."

As an album under the radar, "Hard Candy" was a way I could give the Counting Crows a listen without risking a loss of honour over any of my hastily stated opinions about the band in prior years. Petty, yes, but at least I'm admitting it now.

The first thing that stands out about this record is that it is a bit more upbeat musically. The songs still cover the usual maudlin range of Counting Crows work, but the songs are less like dirges. There are even songs like "American Girls" where the chorus is positively cheery:

"American girls, all weather and noise
Playing the changes for all of the boys
Holding a candle up to my hand
Making me feel so incredible."

Just don't pay too much attention to the verses (yes, it is carefully hidden dirge after all). The fact that the band is willing to infuse a sad song with a bit of pop enthusiasm helps the overall feel of the record by creating peaks and valleys of listening that I found absent on the other albums (I think - I don't know them that well).

Because let's face it, the Counting Crows like to sing about unhappy things, but somehow "Hard Candy" is an album that finds the right balance musically. Halfway through the album when Adam Duritz opens the song "Miami" with "I guess I think I feel alright" it feels positively uplifting - qualifiers and all - and the song soars near the end as if to tell the listeners, "hey, it's a new decade - you don't have to be depressed any more." If nothing else the song is about one of my favourite cities - go Dolphins!

You do get a fair helping of the band's usual slow wrist-slitters like "Carriage" and "Black and Blue" they are a bit easier to handle because they don't overpopulate the record.

The band expirements with new sound on the record as well, with a few stumbles, but mostly to good effect. An example of the good is "New Frontier" where they work some groovy synthesizer sound into their more traditional college rock arrangements. Some long time fans might not have liked this, but as someone seeing them with fresh eyes, I found "New Frontier" refreshing. Emotionally, it was like crossing the depressing "Fox in the Snow" by Belle and Sebastian with the synth-happy "Fox on the Run" by Sweet - only without any foxes. Too many obscure references? Then let me sum up, it's a fun song that avoids being totally vacuous.

The band is helped, as ever, by the fact that Adam Duritz is one of the most unique and recognizeable voices in popular music, and that the man has an innate talent to knock off a catchy pop melody. That he chooses to infuse those melodies with introspective, often painful lyrics, shows that he's trying to do something in a genre more often known for artists mailing it in.

On the flip side, Duritz can occasionally sound like he is forcing too much emotion into song structures and in so doing makes the music a bit overwrought. He also suffers from the occasional bought of awkward phrasing as he tries hard to sound different (You already sound different, Adam - you can stop trying).

Most disappointing on "Hard Candy" is the decision to include a hidden song in that CD style where you leave a bunch of dead air between the end of the last listed song, and the hidden song, recorded on the same track.

This is too bad, because the last listed song, "Holiday in Spain" is one of my favourite songs on the album, with just Duritz singing and playing piano as he sings a slow, wistful tune about getting away, physically and emotionally. My favourite line is:

"Oh well, happy new years, baby!
We could probably fix it if we clean it up all day
Or we could simply pack our bags
And catch a plane to Barcelona 'cause this city's a drag."

Then, after a minute of silence, we get the song restarting as a remake of the Joni Mitchell classic, "Yellow Taxi." Don't get me wrong, I love "Yellow Taxi." While this remake is delivered well enough, the Counting Crows don't add a lot to it. More importantly, by permanently coupling it to the end of "Holiday in Spain" they make me sit through 8:45 for two four minute songs, that I may not always want to hear together (try seldom).

"Hard Candy" is not a great record, but it is a good one, and most of all it does not mail it in like so many bands desperate to recapture earlier success. It is an album by a band determined to expand their musical boundaries even at the risk of losing some of their audience (which, sadly, they did). We don't blame the Beatles or U2 when they did this, and we shouldn't blame Counting Crows either.

Best tracks: American Girls, Miami, New Frontier, Holiday In Spain