These articles ran in The Worcester Telegram and Gazette the week of Aug 18, 1994 and the week after.



COUNTING CROW, STONE TEMPLE PILOTS FLY INTO WORMTOWN


With Lollapalooza and Woodstock hype capturing most of summer's attention, many of us have already had visions of beasties and pumpkins dancing in our heads. Some of us even took the trek down the road to Woodstock '94 - perhaps the most bang for a buck with such acts as Metallica, Aerosmith and Spin Doctors leading the new wave of pioneers into upstate New York.

But the rest of us shouldn't pack away those Dr. Martens so soon - even if we couldn't make it to either one of this season's major rock festivals. We Worcester folk have our own Wormtown rockathon just down the road, blazing into town soon.

Thursday, Aug. 18, Counting Crows blast into the Worcester Aud, riding one of the flashiest albums of the year... Not bad for a lazy weekend at home: no stampedes or brown acid to contend with either.

Almost 20 years ago if a song had any hopes of gaining national popularity, it really had to rock. With disco and arena rock running amok, tunes were heavy very rhythmic and really confined to a single genre: the all out American anthem. Metallica and Guns'N Roses were the best of the late '80's, redefining hard rock, but the musical scope was much narrower-few bands even bothered to experiment with softer tunes.

If it had to rock in the past, then the prerequisite for success in today's rock is a good old-fashioned catchy tune. Popular rock has made a distinct turn from "Mr. Brownstone" to "Mr. Jones." Six years ago a song had to be drenched in bad-ass machoism. Today, just plain machoism does the trick just fine.

Counting Crows' debut gem, August and Everything After, recently as high as number six in the nation, begins with "Round Here" - a warm ray of sun peaking from behing a menacing storm cloud. We get just a glimpse of sunshine though, as the opening riff is as delicate as a feather.

Enter vocalist Adam Duritz: the storm cloud. While the music presents a soft and hopeful ambience, the lyrics and style of Duritz initiate a vast, ominous contrast.

He sings like a man possesed - like a man who's just lost everything he owns. His approach is one of desperation: deliberate yet frank.

This grim contrast with the other music creates an eerily ironic twist. The instruments conjure a palette of vivid yellows and majestic purples. Duritz then splotches the canvas with his own reserve of browns and grays.

The resulting portrait is one of alienation and despair. It's that simple dynamic of irony that most superbly shines through in most of the Crows' music. Duritz sums his approach up best in "Mr. Jones" the albums first single: "If I knew Picasso, I would buy myself a gray guitar and play."

Duritz culls from a complete arsenal of moods. He uses many personas every one of them well portrayed. From paranoia to intense pessimism, the vocal attack always resonates.

The backing vocals are at their best on "Anna Begins". Again a distinct contrast prevails between Duritz and the other musicians. Only this time, Duritz is offset. The backing arrays are as sweet as a brimming spoonful of honey, aleinating the characteristic bitterness of the frontman.

The melancholy "Perfect Blue Buildings" strengthens the album's blend of pessimism and irony there's nothing perfect about these buildings.

"It's 4:30 A.M. on a Tuesday, it doesn't get much worse than this. In beds in little rooms in buildings in the middle of these lives which are completly meaningless."

Duritz sings this line acceptingly, almost contentedly. It's a struggle there's nothing wrong with his life; he lives in a nice neighborhood "beside the green apple sea" - everything's OK, but it's not enough. A wistful melody of hopelessness, it's quite humbling.

So with Counting Crows geared to dish out plenty of bite, it's Stone Temple Pilots who are ready to ante the bulge. The Crows sound is delicate - almost acoustic - while STP's best roars with an acidic shriek...

So if you get lucky enough to swipe tickets for one or both of the shows, except an intense barrage of the most heralded tunes of the year - the Crows in particular have the critics swarming. There's a new wave headed into town. Should be a surfer's dream.

James A. Karis ll




POCKET REVIEW: COUNTING CROWS; THE AUD, AUG. 18



An ice cube tossed into the audience by Adam Duritz hit me in the face. That got my attention, but everything went downhill fast from there. There's no excuse for a performance as flat as Counting Crows cranked out Thursday. Perhaps the finest venue in the city for a show of it's kind, the Aud simply wasn't enough to inspire even a trace of enthusiasm in either the band or the few thousand faithful. Crow's vocalist Duritz actually stirred up more adrenaline in the crowd when he introduced the opening acts than during his band's entire set.

I didn't see an animated face in the house: Most of the crowd in the stands and balcony simply sat back and relaxed - relatively unenthused. I stood down in the heart of the pit for nearly half the show but more arms were placidly crossed over chest's than up in the air. Nearly everyone from front to back remained paralyzed throughout - even the normally kinetic "Mr. Jones" fizzled. A greater degree of mosh activity actually was spawned by the opening set of the Cx Family - a bluegrass act that swept the stage with a bustling palette of vitality and charm not to mention a curious array of instruments including a banjo and violin.

The lack of charge in the loyal legions could be attributed to Duritz himself: He quickly warned fans up front that if they didn't settle down - they were surging forward a little - he'd have no choice but to walk off. I've never heard of such a thing from a top frontman. The crowd was never out of line, even when the Crows first stormed the show. It's Duritz's job to serve as a catalyst for inspiration not to threaten the crowd with walking off the stage in the middle of a song.

One highlight was the work of lead guitarist Dan Vickrey; his musty vibes swamped the air with a soulful shriek his mates just didn't give him very much to work with.

And you know, I didn't even go home with a memento. It melted.

James A. Karis ll

Thank you, Pam for sending me these articles.
Viktor