Crows Fly Back with a Flourish
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Maybe there’s something to be said for recharging the old batteries. Counting Crows - the MTV-approved, invariably literate neo-folk-rock band (and favorite of sensitive collegiates everywhere) – have made one of the most vibrant, resonant, accessible, articulate albums in the group’s career, six years after their previous release.
Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is a bountiful assortment of songs for fans of the San Francisco Bay Area-spawned band. They say, "Write what you know." Crows singer-songwriter-bandleader Adam Duritz has taken that to heart and tends to write about his life and times, light and dark, no matter how solipsistic the resulting lyrics may sound. Self-indulgent? Yep. But smartly, bracingly so. And on the musical side, the tracks are artfully composed and arranged, played with the expected expertise, filled with the sort of energy that a layoff can engender, and some of the toughest and most tender material since their 1993 debut August and Everything After.You can make all the Sideshow Mel jokes that you want about Adam’s haystack dreadlocks, not to mention his vulnerability and pretensions. (No way is he anything like that other dreadlocked “Simpsons” character and all-around evil bastard Sideshow Bob.) Japery aside, the Crows frontman is an impassioned, charismatic and compelling singer who has synthesized the vocal styles of such rock icons as Dylan, Springsteen, Robbie Robertson, Michael Stipe and Van Morrison – and come out with an eternally boyish, unmistakably enticing and persuasive mix of whine and roses.When Adam was about to relocate full-time to Los Angeles during the early 1990s in the wake of the Crows’ rising fortunes, he told me that he would miss the Bay Area and would never sever all of his ties there. On the other hand, he was feeling more at home in L.A. than anywhere else. “It’s an artists’ colony,” he explained. “It’s where the music industry is, and where I should be.” With all of my recent ping-ponging between San Francisco and Los Angeles for business reasons, I can greater empathize with Adam’s songs that address the push-pull he feels towards those two towns and our other mutual haunt (and entertainment-industry capitol), New York City. And there are more than a couple of these geographically-inspired expressions on Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings, which could be subtitled “An American Bohemian in Motion.”The title Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings suggests the schism between the first half of the album which is more in-your-face, and the second half which is more introspective. The hard stuff was produced by Gil Norton (Pixies), and the soft by Brian Deck (Iron & Wine). Both approaches have their charms.The band declares its return in earnest by opening things with "1492,” as thundering drums, grinding organ and propulsive guitar licks careen under skewed declarations of an identity fractured in the miasma and whirlwind of privilege and celebrity. Adam’s words spin into a childhood rhyme about American history, perhaps to say something about the current, desperate state of the union. Damned if the song doesn’t channel the pulse-pounding, punk-rocking drive of the Gang of 4, topped by a staccato solo from guitarist Dan Vickrey whose work throughout Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is revelatory.From then on, it’s treat after treat. "Hanging Tree" is a catchy, playful rocker about the stresses of the singer’s "dizzy life." "Los Angeles” bears the influence of mid- to late- '70s Rolling Stones (specifically, their country-rock ballad side), by way of the Eagles, to express a grudging acceptance of fame and success in the context of Adam's affection for the town that’s a cauldron of show biz. My personal favorite of the collection is the sprightly, humorous "Sundays" about the bittersweet pursuit of love and its attendant dance. It features a wistful refrain (one of Adam’s specialties) and, as a coda, a lovely over-dubbed round. Then, there’s the rousing (slightly surreal) confessional rush of "Cowboys,” after the singer tumbles into confusion on "Insignificant" with its impressionistic lyrics and psychedelic rock flavor.Flipping the switch to the gentle, folkier "Sunday morning" side, "Washington Square" is another of my pet tracks. Its acoustic-guitar-and-piano arrangement (plus a plaintive harmonica) reference the vintage Greenwich Village folk scene as lyrics take us from Lower Manhattan to Dublin to Berkeley. "On Almost Any Sunday Morning" is another pleasing folk-styled ballad with no drums - just voice, acoustic and electric guitars, and harp.Banjo enhances "When I Dream of Michelangelo," which addresses a woman's unwillingness to commit to her lover. Drums, electric keyboards, and meatier electric guitar chords return (with an echo of Beatle-y tunefulness) on "Anyone But You," which continues Adam’s run of romantic regret. The singer won't let go of a wayward lover on "You Can't Count on Me," which is eerily reminiscent of R.E.M. if Springsteen’s pianist Roy Bittan was sitting in."Le Ballet d'Or" is a delicate, yearning ballad that offers more pained entreaties, revelations, and proclamations to a loved one, reaching a crescendo that’s rife with need and expressions of loyalty. Accompanied by a single guitar, Adam goes into chamber-folk mode for "On a Tuesday in Amsterdam Long Ago," a lyrical snapshot from the memory book.They wrap with "Come Around.” The rustic tone of the intro is deceptive as the cut kicks into an organ-and-12-string-sweetened rocker with a melodious chorus that hints at the ‘60s folk-rock sound of the Byrds and Bob Dylan, and the chiming gleam of Tom Petty’s ‘70s take on the same style.I’m not sure what the Age of the MP3 will mean to the Crows’ fortunes. The music scene has changed during their six years away. Not my problem. All I know is that Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings sounds good to me any day of the week and any time of day.For your consideration, the band plays "You Can't Count on Me" on "The Late Show with David Letterman":
Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is a bountiful assortment of songs for fans of the San Francisco Bay Area-spawned band. They say, "Write what you know." Crows singer-songwriter-bandleader Adam Duritz has taken that to heart and tends to write about his life and times, light and dark, no matter how solipsistic the resulting lyrics may sound. Self-indulgent? Yep. But smartly, bracingly so. And on the musical side, the tracks are artfully composed and arranged, played with the expected expertise, filled with the sort of energy that a layoff can engender, and some of the toughest and most tender material since their 1993 debut August and Everything After.You can make all the Sideshow Mel jokes that you want about Adam’s haystack dreadlocks, not to mention his vulnerability and pretensions. (No way is he anything like that other dreadlocked “Simpsons” character and all-around evil bastard Sideshow Bob.) Japery aside, the Crows frontman is an impassioned, charismatic and compelling singer who has synthesized the vocal styles of such rock icons as Dylan, Springsteen, Robbie Robertson, Michael Stipe and Van Morrison – and come out with an eternally boyish, unmistakably enticing and persuasive mix of whine and roses.When Adam was about to relocate full-time to Los Angeles during the early 1990s in the wake of the Crows’ rising fortunes, he told me that he would miss the Bay Area and would never sever all of his ties there. On the other hand, he was feeling more at home in L.A. than anywhere else. “It’s an artists’ colony,” he explained. “It’s where the music industry is, and where I should be.” With all of my recent ping-ponging between San Francisco and Los Angeles for business reasons, I can greater empathize with Adam’s songs that address the push-pull he feels towards those two towns and our other mutual haunt (and entertainment-industry capitol), New York City. And there are more than a couple of these geographically-inspired expressions on Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings, which could be subtitled “An American Bohemian in Motion.”The title Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings suggests the schism between the first half of the album which is more in-your-face, and the second half which is more introspective. The hard stuff was produced by Gil Norton (Pixies), and the soft by Brian Deck (Iron & Wine). Both approaches have their charms.The band declares its return in earnest by opening things with "1492,” as thundering drums, grinding organ and propulsive guitar licks careen under skewed declarations of an identity fractured in the miasma and whirlwind of privilege and celebrity. Adam’s words spin into a childhood rhyme about American history, perhaps to say something about the current, desperate state of the union. Damned if the song doesn’t channel the pulse-pounding, punk-rocking drive of the Gang of 4, topped by a staccato solo from guitarist Dan Vickrey whose work throughout Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is revelatory.From then on, it’s treat after treat. "Hanging Tree" is a catchy, playful rocker about the stresses of the singer’s "dizzy life." "Los Angeles” bears the influence of mid- to late- '70s Rolling Stones (specifically, their country-rock ballad side), by way of the Eagles, to express a grudging acceptance of fame and success in the context of Adam's affection for the town that’s a cauldron of show biz. My personal favorite of the collection is the sprightly, humorous "Sundays" about the bittersweet pursuit of love and its attendant dance. It features a wistful refrain (one of Adam’s specialties) and, as a coda, a lovely over-dubbed round. Then, there’s the rousing (slightly surreal) confessional rush of "Cowboys,” after the singer tumbles into confusion on "Insignificant" with its impressionistic lyrics and psychedelic rock flavor.Flipping the switch to the gentle, folkier "Sunday morning" side, "Washington Square" is another of my pet tracks. Its acoustic-guitar-and-piano arrangement (plus a plaintive harmonica) reference the vintage Greenwich Village folk scene as lyrics take us from Lower Manhattan to Dublin to Berkeley. "On Almost Any Sunday Morning" is another pleasing folk-styled ballad with no drums - just voice, acoustic and electric guitars, and harp.Banjo enhances "When I Dream of Michelangelo," which addresses a woman's unwillingness to commit to her lover. Drums, electric keyboards, and meatier electric guitar chords return (with an echo of Beatle-y tunefulness) on "Anyone But You," which continues Adam’s run of romantic regret. The singer won't let go of a wayward lover on "You Can't Count on Me," which is eerily reminiscent of R.E.M. if Springsteen’s pianist Roy Bittan was sitting in."Le Ballet d'Or" is a delicate, yearning ballad that offers more pained entreaties, revelations, and proclamations to a loved one, reaching a crescendo that’s rife with need and expressions of loyalty. Accompanied by a single guitar, Adam goes into chamber-folk mode for "On a Tuesday in Amsterdam Long Ago," a lyrical snapshot from the memory book.They wrap with "Come Around.” The rustic tone of the intro is deceptive as the cut kicks into an organ-and-12-string-sweetened rocker with a melodious chorus that hints at the ‘60s folk-rock sound of the Byrds and Bob Dylan, and the chiming gleam of Tom Petty’s ‘70s take on the same style.I’m not sure what the Age of the MP3 will mean to the Crows’ fortunes. The music scene has changed during their six years away. Not my problem. All I know is that Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings sounds good to me any day of the week and any time of day.For your consideration, the band plays "You Can't Count on Me" on "The Late Show with David Letterman":
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