I Have Seen You Lately

When I heard the news that the Counting Crows were dropping a new album this spring, I was hesitantly hopeful that I would find some classic Crows melodies on the new disc. With all that's been going on, I'd almost forgotten it. Then I heard Adam Duritz talking about the new album on VH1 one morning while I was getting ready for work. I dashed into the other room to see the new video for "You Can't Count on Me." And Duritz looked good - no longer sporting the bizarre long dreads in a topknot and having slimmed down from an alarmingly bloated version of himself. Then I read several interviews about the new album in which Duritz talked about his spiral into despair as he struggled with mental illness, finally getting diagnosed with dissociative disorder. Being that I so recently went through a bout with my own mental health, I decided that for old time's sake and to support the newly-recovered Duritz, I'd pick up the new album.

I'm delighted to report that the boys are back. Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings is their most cohesive, most well-concepted and richest album since This Desert Life - possibly even since their sophomore smash, Recovering the Satellites. Recorded in two different sessions, the first half, dubbed Saturday Nights, was recorded in New York and is filled with lyrics of gritty dissolution and sharp-edged sound. Sunday Mornings, the disc's latter half, was recorded in Berkley and explores the restorative nature of piecing life back together.

Throughout the album, the songs are like wonderful, poignant echoes of the Crows' previous work. In the lyrics and sometimes the melodies, threads of former themes slide through the new songs. It feels like they were very intentional about brining back their own work in thoughtful ways. "Insignificant" sounds like a sister song to "Have You Seen Me Lately?" - one of my all time favorite Crows' songs. The opening lines "Can you see me/up on the building/from down on the pavement/or out in the crowd?" hearken back to that idea of invisibility in a crowd. "Cowboys" has an intro reminiscent of "Rain King" and "When I Dream of Michaelangelo" clearly connects to "Angels of the Silences" with an acoustic call-back. Something about "Washington Square" is reminiscent of "Omaha" - maybe in its wandering lyrics.

And "On a Tuesday in Amsterdam Long Ago" is close to edging out "Colorblind" as the prettiest song the Crows have ever recorded. "Hanging Tree" is a really great song, too, with a 70s rock drive and great harmonies. "Come Around" appropriately closes the disc on a high note, apropos of "St. Robinson and His Cadillac Dream".

The disc is balanced between ballad and rock anthems, blending the alt-country and guitar-driven rock that marked August & Everything After and Recovering the Satellites. Duritz shows more control of his voice, keeping his trademark plaintive wailing (which I happen to love) to a few well-placed whines. And Charlie's piano and Dan's guitars sound better than ever. It feels like Counting Crows at their best - their voices mixing beautiful, their playing ripe with energy. And it's just complex and layered and yet effortless. The album feels good.

I'm a big fan - and somehow, this album makes me feel weirdly hopeful, like in recovering the Counting Crows, I'm recovering a little piece of myself.

Saturday Nights &...
1. 1492
2. Hanging Tree
3. Los Angeles
4. Sundays
5. Insignificant
6. Cowboys

Sunday Mornings
7. Washington Square
8. On Almost Any Sunday Morning
9. When I Dream of Michaelangelo
10. Anyone But You
11. You Can't Count on Me
12. Le Ballet d'Or
13. On a Tuesday in Amsterdam Long Ago
14. Come Around