The Chris Moeller Archives

A-Train Summer Concert Series #3 – by Aaron Moeller

Looking through my Dad’s record collection as a kid, I recall Dad pointing out an early Crosby, Stills and Nash album – it was either their debut album or Deja Vu with Neil Young, I don’t remember – as the record that, when he was in college, everybody seemed to have in their record collection. When I was in college 25 years later, I remember Pearl Jam Ten and Nirvana Nevermind in most people’s collections. There also seemed to be a large share of Smashing Pumpkins CDs, REM fans, metal heads and rap fans. My own CD collection was the largest but mostly contained music that was already at least ten years old, and yet the CD most common to everyone’s collection – America’s Dorm Room Soundtrack 1993 – was undoubtedly August and Everything After by the Counting Crows.

My buddy Shane declares August and Everything After as the CD he’s listened to most in his life. For me, the title would likely go to Love and Theft by Bob Dylan, Moondance by Van Morrison or one of a half dozen Springsteen contenders. But August has taken a steady rotation spot in my CD spinner since 1996. (As is my style, I waited until it was three years old before purchasing it. Ya gotta make sure it withstands a little time first.).

My girlfriend, three other friends and myself were attendees at last Saturday night’s Counting Crows, Third Eye Blind and Collective Soul gig at Principal Park in Des Moines. The air in the minor league ballpark was warm and muggy – ideal for rock and roll. With a large age range in attendance, it was primarily late 20 and 30-somethings, most of whom seemed glad to endure the heat, being refreshed from having left their kids at home with baby sitters to relive their college days for a few hours.

To the surprise of maybe no one besides the five of us, Collective Soul opened the show instead of Third Eye Blind. Lead singer Ed Roland had to fight the sun in his eyes as the star of this particular solar system set over the third base mezzanine as the Georgia band broke out their heavy guitars and grungy (can we still use that word?) radio sound. We would later move down to the field, just 20 or so yards from the stage, but from our initial distance in the first base bleachers, Roland looked like Sammy Hagar with his hair still long and curly, but 15 years closer to middle age than on the album covers of their best selling music. Rising up from – on the surface, at least – their often plodding, predictable two guitars, bass and drums "modern" rock sound were some recognizable riffs and melodies. Sung with passion, there was even an occasional suggestion of words and ideas rising above the morose and tenth grade poetry in most lyrics common to the era. Hits from their "Hey, I DO recognize that song" set list included "December", "Why Pt. 2", "The World I Know", ballads like "Run" and at least one affecting new song, "Hollywood", that went over well with the crowd. Roland is an overly appreciative and gracious front man and brought out Third Eye lead singer Stephan Jenkins to share some vocals. The band left the stage to the crowd echoing back his "Ohh... Heaven let your light shine down" lyrics. On their band tombstone, it will say that Collective Soul had no trouble filling 45 minutes with their radio hits.

Third Eye Blind had a lighter, though similarly hard hitting sound. Potentially more dynamic, the band’s sound somehow didn’t find its way to our bleacher seats where we sat in sweaty, evening repose. The familiar guitar riff from the one song I was most looking forward to – "How’s It Going to Be" – sounded like a speaker had blown. Third Eye Blind did have a much larger and younger fan base who took over the outfield area for their hour-long set. Stephan Jenkins is a natural-enough front man with like-minded bandmates as they ripped through their own set list, also familiar to anyone who’s been near a rock radio the last ten years. I raised the ire of my girlfriend when I compared their sound to Green Day, apparently sacrilege to anyone with claims to punk authenticity, though it’s a difference completely incomprehensible to everyone else. "Jumper" I knew, and a song I learned is called "Never Let You Go", but "Semi-Charmed Life" was the monster hit that brought even bleacher creatures to their feet with its "I want something else / to get me through this" anthem.

When the second set ended, we darted from the grandstand to the field to fill the spots recently vacated by young folks taking bathroom and beer breaks and older folks hopping on their cell phones to check on the kids or the Reds score. Darkness had dropped as we had no trouble getting within twenty or so yards from the stage. A recording of "Lean on Me" by Bill Withers lit up the stage as the headliners appeared on stage, including chief songwriter and lead singer, Adam Duritz. As he’s always known in print, "Adam Duritz of Counting Crows", sits on the fence of being one of those guys not quite recognized without his band name attached (like say Bono), but still instantly recognizable by appearance and voice as He of the White Guy with Dreadlocks kicked off another of his always vivid, emotional, roller coaster live performances. The band broke out some different instrumentation, including the banjos, accordions, mandolins and keyboards that are usually sorely lacking from most modern bands and their punchless, generic radio sound, heavier on rock than roll.

Duritz has a Springsteen-like flair for the dramatic as well as the Boss’ penchant for jumping around stage, on and off speakers and monitors, creating a future no doubt filled with knee problems, but his closest rock antecedent is clearly Van Morrison. Like Van, he has a love of jazzy arrangements and exaggerated vocal stylings, along with his frequent "la-la-la" sing-along refrains. You can't always dance to it, but you're always moving. At times – like the Belfast Cowboy – Duritz appears to be practically acting out songs with his gesturing and body movements. Following my habit of rarely going an hour without making a smartass comment, I turned to Shane at one point and made the sarcastic remark that Duritz would be a much better performer if he "learned to concentrate more and step up the intensity a little" - a most unnecessary proposition.

More like Van than Springsteen, he also has a tendency to get lost in his own inner muse and can be found, it appears, almost singing to himself. This is only a problem, when his lyrics (occasionally) dip into self-pity. Still, in 2007, it’s refreshing to see shameless sincerity on a rock stage in lieu of the usual cool detachment, which has its place but is rarely interesting for more than 15 minutes worth of fame. Duritz has gone to the Mick Jagger and Michael Stipe school of exaggerated dancing and showmanship, probably from years of practice, usually being the only guy on stage without hands otherwise engaged with a musical instrument.

New songs from a forthcoming double album were littered in with long time favorites, like "Recovering the Satellites", "Mercury", "Hanging Around" and "This Desert Life". There were surprisingly no appearances of recent hits like the Joni Mitchell cover "Big Yellow Taxi", "Accidently in Love" nor many of the best known songs from August and Everything After, but from that classic album came two of the highlights of the night. A rare version of "Perfect Blue Buildings", which Duritz introduced as his favorite song he's written, and the stunning high point of the show, a majestic "Time and Time Again". Of the six or seven new songs, a song called "Come Around", with its declaration of band and fan loyalty, was the coolest.

But the most loved and appreciated songs included their biggest hit, the August warhorse, "Mr. Jones", with Duritz carefully articulating each line, bouncing all over the notes, above and below the melody line, changing lyrics here and there, singing like he was rewriting it especially for Iowa’s most loyal Counting Crows fans. It was pure theater. It was an emotional highlight for me as the "I wanna be Bob Dylan" lyric called to mind my own favorite summer concert memories, which have usually been set in a similar atmosphere - in an open ballpark, under the stars, listening to Dylan’s sonic blues thunder. Duritz went to the piano late in the show and gave an emotional rendering of their greatest ballad, "A Long December". "Well, it’s one more day up in the canyon/ and it’s one more night in Hollywood" wrote Duritz for one of the actresses on Friends, or maybe it was one of the other half dozen starlets he’s dated. Whomever it was written for, it was sublime on this night, and sufficiently melodramatic, especially if one was only destined to hear it in person once in a lifetime.

"It’s been fifteen years and you’re all still here," Duritz said sweetly from the stage, tapping his hand to his chest in a moment of artist and audience mutual love, before singing "Holiday in Spain", a pretty and fitting closer. True dat. The Counting Crows are now rock and roll long timers, apparently in it for the duration. God bless all of ‘em in that category, as well as those that didn’t quite make it. "The media often forgets that the country exists outside of New York, LA and Chicago," Duritz announced by way of thanking their loyal fans. It was a nice sentiment before the Crows left the stage to more pre-recorded music. Strangely, the song selection was "California Dreamin’" by the Mamas and the Papas, an ironic choice that may have negated his previous comment, if that song wasn’t always so damn perfect and ultimately universal, like the best and most lasting music.

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