Adam Duritz has got the sensitive male thing down. His performance is an open and honest dialogue with his audience. It’s good friends having a good conversation over coffee. Well, except for the stage and the people and the lights and the no coffee. But the Counting Crows are good at making these things fade away.
Tuesday’s night concert packed Smith’s John M. Greene Hall, which doesn’t look much bigger than a high school auditorium, with what seemed like some of the band’s biggest fans. Or fans of a noticeably heftier Duritz.
The Seattle natives The Actual Tigers opened. Duritz announced their recent album release with an eagerness that inexplicably made me really want to like these guys. Excepting for a bland song titled “Bad Day,” which was obviously created to go the way of the single, their brief set was enjoyable. And when they could actually get the crowd out of their seats, they were good. Their rhythmic numbers, which incorporated bongo and some great percussion, were by far their best. Imagine Paul Simon circa Rhythm of the Saints, except not as good, meets bongo-heavy Guster, except not as hackneyed.
It did take us to the end of their set to realize that Duritz said “The Actual Tigers,” and not “The Actual Tires,” or “The Actual Tigris,” as in, “and Euphrates.” But, their name turned out to be apropos, and the stage a veritable fertile crescent of cuteness. The fashionably hip Tigers looked fresh from the thrift store, all the way down to their old New Balances.
Me: Oh, they’re called The Actual Tigers.
My friend Amanda: The Actual Tigers? Boy, are they. Grrrrrrowl.
The Smith concert was one in a series of smaller college stops along the tour, which is, ostensibly, a testing ground for their next release. Their most recent album, This Desert Life, was releases in 1999, and it seems like the band hasn’t stopped working since. The new songs, for which we were the willing test subjects, were polished and poised for recording. And as an added bonus, or maybe a trade-off for not singing “Round Here” and “A Long December,” Duritz began every new song with his explanation. They were punctuated with biographical tidbits that make you think he hasn’t told this to any other concert audience. This is different. We’re special.
Well, probably not. But, as Amanda pointed out it’s like being on VH1 “Storytellers.” It may seem tame, but if you really like the Counting Crows, it’s probably better than “Behind the Music.”
Duritz is an incredibly open and honest performer. He combines his ever-popular and surprisingly effective “my girlfriend just broke up with me, and I don’t want to sleep alone tonight” jaded act with a childlike happiness for just being alive. His movements are near to mime at points, but it never feels cheesy or contrived. He feels the lyrics like it’s the first time he’s ever sang them. Balancing on equipment, a little bit like a tightrope walker and a little bit like a kid at a playground, Duritz sang with a youthful ecstasy.
But, clearly, Duritz has been there. His songs of faded romance are universally affecting. And these, teamed with the sad, sensitive, intellectual artist that he’s so good at epitomizing, can’t fail to get the ladies. And more blissful romances, which turn into failed romances. And yet more songs. Duritz may have gone through some relationship rough patches, but this is a win-win situation for the band, especially when it turns out a sometimes heart-breaking/sometimes exultant song like “Anna Begins.”
When he sits down to polish his glasses, the band becomes more than the Adam Duritz backup band. They’re more than accomplished musicians, whether playing electric or acoustic guitars, pianos, organs or the mandolin. Their energy is unwavering. Mandolin and rock have never gone quite so well together as during “Omaha.” To be expected, “Mr. Jones” was on the set list. This did more for the band than get recognition. This soft acoustic version was a testament to the musicians’ subtlety.
By the end of the concert, no one in the audience was prepared to relinquish their band. Duritz invited the Tigers out for a collaborative and jubilant rendition of “Hangin Around.” Proving that, despite some sadness, he and the band are capable of having real and infective fun.