September 14, 2001
MKri
Chris Moller
STAFF WRITER
Davidson College, Monday
Sept. 3. A vivid
crowd of thou
sands stands in
anticipation be
neath an inde
terminate haze
at the Baker
Sports Complex.
The lights burn
brightly in the
home of Wild
cats basketball.
Tonight, how
ever, the people
have not come
for the pick and
roll of college
hoops; tonight,
they have come
for the rock and roll stylings of
the Counting Crows.
Perhaps it is the fact that I
have loved the Counting Crows
ever since their first radio hit
"Mr. Jones" brought the first
smile to my face on a day of dis
appointment and frustration.
Maybe it is that I am with my
two best friends in the world. Or
it could even be that we are
lucky enough to have a few of
the thousand tickets reserved
for those who don't attend
Davidson. Whatever the con
tributing factors, there is some
thing magical in the air.
After a week's worth of
waiting, a two-hour drive, and
a 15- minute walk, we are finally
here. We have general admis
sions tickets but opt to sit in the
bleachers until the show starts.
We talk about nothing at all and
stare at all the people that are
so different from us in appear
ance, and we wish that we could
smoke a cigarette. Then sud
denly the lights go out, and the
crowd roars. It is time. The mo
ment has arrived.
Lead singer Adam Duritz is
the first to take the stage, and,
although we have heard that he
has been feeling under the
weather, he appears happy and
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have never seen the Counting
Crows live before, but this mo
ment alone is worth the $25.
The band moves through
their set fluidly, from the jux
taposition of the lyric and
melody that is "Round Here,"
through a slew of songs Duritz
tells us are new. They all
sound amazing. The new songs,
which Duritz tells us are all
going to be on their upcoming
album, all have a Southern
blues feel that is not unlike a
cross between Lynnyrd
Skynnyrd and Crosby Stills
and Nash. Some may call it her
esy to compare the Counting
Crows to Skynnyrd, but this
live performance is proof that
they are worthy of such a com
parison.
The band closes out the set
with an absolutely incredible
version of "Rain King." Some
how, they manage to turn
"Rain King" into "Oh Susanna"
while wistfully changing noth
ing more than the lyrics. The en
tire crowd, my Yankee self in-
The Guilfordian
Features
healthy. We
make our way
down to the floor,
but it is bursting
with the thriving
mass, so we stand
towards the back.
We can see every
thing perfectly.
The band starts in,
and, even though
it is a new song
that nobody rec
ognizes, the mo
ment of joy is
pure. The crowd
moves to the beat,
and my friends
and I follow suit. I
IWECOUNTINGCRCWS • COM
eluded, shouts the familiar
southern anthem along with
Duritz, and it is clear that the
music has formed a bond be
tween the band and the audi
ence.
The crowd wants more, and
refuses to shut up, and the band
takes the stage for an encore
that lasts five songs and an
other 45 minutes. The only old
song in the set is "Mr. Jones,"
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Duritz, of The Counting Crows, gives the audience what they came for.
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and when the first chords echo
throughout the stadium, the
entire audience, seated mem
bers included, seems to explode.
The band finishes the set by
bringing on the members of the
opening band, Stew, to help
them sing a rousing rendition of
"Hangin' Around." By the end of
the song, Duritz is singing "I
don't want no scrubs," immacu
lately weaving the lyrics of an
R&B hit with the chorus of a
song that most aptly fits into the
category of Southern Rock .
After ending the song with
the appropriate flair, the band
leaves the stage, and the crowd
knows they have witnessed
something amazing. It is seen
everywhere, in sparkling
stares, knees of jelly and gamma
ray grins. We came expecting to
be touched inside; now we leave
with warmth in our hearts and
bounce in our steps that is evi
dence that we shared a remark
able experience with 10,000 re
markable strangers.
THBCOUNTINGCROWS. COM
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