My main criticism of Guster, Death Cab, and The Offspring’s performances was that they were a bit forced – they tried too hard to be something they weren’t. All of these bands were models of restraint in comparison to Counting Crows.
Frontman Adam Duritz’ intention was presumably to pour his heart out. The problem was, he seemed determined to do this literally, not metaphorically. He flailed his limbs, pounded the microphone into his chest, yanked his head back and forth, and most importantly, threw the words out as if they were unsavory projectiles. His vocal inflections on some of the albums are superb. The progression of pain to pleasure in “Round Here” and “Rain King” is incredible. The first three tracks of Foo Fighters’ In Your Honor are the only ones that I’ve heard capture the progression better. And to hear those intricate inflections bludgeoned time and time again…it was depressing.
The last thing I wanted to do was trash Duritz. I’d looked forward to seeing Counting Crows for nearly a year. Other than Arcade Fire, their Wikipedia page was probably the one I checked most to see if they were ever scheduling any new shows. “A Long December” helped me through the first few months at Frost, and “Mr. Jones” got me the rest of the way. (Call “Mr. Jones” played-out frat rock if you want; I would never have gotten that support from Hootie…)
Overall, though, if I’m being fair, I have to declare the concert a huge letdown. I give him credit for going there -- it takes guts to be that earnest – but he needed to know when to pull back. Shrieking does not make you genuine; a seizure does not show you’re sincere.
Grade: C-
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