Before the rock band Counting Crows had even finished its first album, it was invited to replace an absent Van Morrison and perform at a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame dinner before a crowd that included Eric Clapton and Bruce Springsteen. The buzz was on. This was a band marked for big things -- and under a lot of pressure to make a solid album.
The Crows' debut CD, August and Everything After, now in the top 15 on Billboard's album charts, shows that this Bay Area band is capable of creating credible, sometimes beautiful, rock 'n' roll. The Crows' moody, muted music is designed for the young and lost, as it charts a path of wanderlust and world-weariness that roams somewhere between Kerouac and Prozac. Singer-songwriter Adam Duritz writes about people who are damaged and drifting, their lives fashionably fraying around them like jeans torn out at the knees. "Step out the front door like a ghost," he murmurs on Round Here, "Into the fog where no one notices/ The contrast of white on white." On Perfect Blue Buildings, he sighs, "Gonna get me a little oblivion."
Of course, such a young person (Duritz is 29) blathering on about oblivion can be annoying. At times his wordy compositions come off sounding like secondhand Springsteen. And it doesn't help when Duritz compares himself to other performers. On Mr. Jones, an ironic examination of the lure of fame, he declares, "I want to be Bob Dylan." Duritz is no Dylan (neither, for that matter, is Dylan these days). Still, much of this album is a pleasure to hear. If Dylan, Morrison or some other rock-'n'-roll hero ever calls in sick for a Hall of Fame gig, Counting Crows isn't a bad band to call in a pinch.