I have oscillated between excitement and anxiety over the past several years as I have waited for the release of the new Counting Crows album. Before we proceed, let me tell you that I am something of a snob when it comes to music. That may seem contradictory – most music snobs would turn up their noses at the mention of Counting Crows. I understand that . Even at his best, Adam Duritz is pretentious and has a knack for lame metaphors. At his worst…good God…he is whiny and boring to the point of being insufferable. Additionally, I make no apologies for that God-awful Shrek song. However, while I wouldn’t consider CC one of my favorite bands, they are a significant band in the context of my life.
When August and Everything Afterdropped back in late 1993, I was 11 years old and found “Mr. Jones” to be a delightfully jaunty tune. Incidentally, this is about the same time that I received a portable CD player, and A&EAwas the first compact disc that I purchased. I was too young to appreciate most of the songs on the album. Most of the songs deal with Duritz’s inability to sustain a romantic relationship (more on that later), but the point is that they were slow and boring. That aside, however, I did quite enjoy the singles on that album, and thus, it received heavy rotation in my CD player, as it was the only CD that I owned (Green Day’s Dookie would soon remedy that).
As the years passed, all that I heard from Counting Crows were the singles, and even then, the only song that I really knew from that era was “Long December”, which MTV seemingly ran on a constant loop for the duration of 1996. As the 1990’s drew to a close, I began to rediscover A&EA. I had a number of friends in high school who enjoyed the album, but the fact that by then I had discovered heartbreak probably was of equal or greater importance. In any case, I began to appreciate the band on a slightly higher level that I had previously – though generally, when I wanted angst, I still went to Pearl Jam first.
Counting Crows really got their hooks into me in 2002. That summer, they released their fourth album, Hard Candy. I was aware of the album’s existence, but I hadn’t heard any singles and was not particularly enthusiastic about it. Then, in late August, I returned to college and immediately met a girl named Kari. Kari was my first substantial relationship of college (I was decidedly off my game the first two years). She was tall (5′11″!!!) with short brown hair, and a great smile. She had a quiet, yet dirty, sense of humor. And she LOVED Counting Crows. At her behest, I listened to HC. I quickly found it to be my favorite CC album, and it became the de facto soundtrack to our romance. There were a few weak tracks, but the good songs made up for them (particularly “If I Could Give All My Love To You” and “Up All Night”). With Kari, things got “heavy” fast. We dated for about two months and then I dumped her for a girl that I had dated in high school (there’s more to it, of course). Kari was understandably hurt, and she didn’t talk to me for months (though even after that, I tried to avoid her, as I couldn’t see her without making myself feel like an asshole).
When I listen to that album today, it brings back a wide range of feelings. It recalls memories of that two month period – which was a blast. CC’s brand of non-threatening MOR conjures images of trips to Fredericksburg (in spite of the Sniper still being at large) and ill-fated camping trips. Naturally, hearing Duritz’s crooning also stirs up the guilt of how I handled the situation. That was the only time that I ever truly betrayed a significant other. I felt awful about it, but sure enough, I eventually got what was coming to me. Hard Candyeerily describes my life from about August 2002-late 2003. I know, that sounds vague and lame, but it would require an essay that is beyond my attention span to describe the parallels. That’s the essence of good art, though.
I stopped by Circuit City on the way to the office to pick up the new album. I have not listened to it yet. My hopes for the album are moderate (though after reading some of the liner notes…this might be a catastrophe). Still, Adam and I go back a ways. And I hope that fat fuck never changes.
