{grate 2.5} While Adam Duritz may get head from skinny disco girls on a
typical Saturday night, his Sunday mornings resound with the guitar wailings of
Kafkaesque regret. This is nothing new from the neurotic Counting Crows
frontman, who sung about wanting to be a “big, big star” on their debut album
August and Everything After (and he certainly got his wish). But if fantasies
of celebrity and glory were thematic 14 — yeah, 14 — years ago, the Crows’
latest croonings on Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings might serve as a
score of advice from a wiser, post-depression Duritz: Be careful what you wish
for.
“Honey, I’m just trying to make some sense/ Outta me,”
Duritz explains on the lazy country ballad, “
(Are guys with dreads allowed to sing country music?) His self-examining
apology characterizes the album’s first half — Saturday nights —which details
a vagabond quest for sincerity in a superficial ’hood. In this conflicted
search, Duritz realizes amid motel-room fucking that he “don’t want to feel
different,” but he “don’t want to be insignificant,” either. It’s a tightrope
desperation communicated in ragged rock gambols, reminiscent of the Crows’
Jam/R.E.M.-inspired beginnings.
An abrupt transition into the acoustic strummings of “
Square
Mornings. As a harmonica tremble-squeaks above Duritz’s grit, we are vaguely aware
of resolution taking shape. Whereas the first six tracks ramble about the
“angel thighs” (on clattering opener “1492”), the last are sunny-porch love
tunes about “angel eyes” (the folky “When I Dream of Michelangelo”). Yet
somewhere between slow jams, his quasi-sensitive act grows wearisome. Duritz
whines a great deal, but says essentially the same thing over and over — we get
it, dude, you’re sad.
But those diehard fans of Duritz’s complaining — and there
are lots out there — will appreciate this reversion to classic Counting Crows
angst. And who knows? Maybe after another 14 years of soul searching, he’ll
finally make some sense outta life.
