Crows mildly anticipated 'Round Here'

BY ANA NERSESSIAN

For its 300th birthday, Yale won't be getting a magician, or a clown, or even a stripper. On Sun., Oct. 7, Counting Crows, a mainstream rock band best known for its 1993 hit "Mr. Jones," will take to the stage on Old Campus to help the University ring in its fourth century.

There are few things better than live music, except, of course, free live music, and so it is with almost universal enthusiasm that students are looking forward to Sun-day's concert. Indeed, the Crows seem to have the tacit approval of the entire campus. Their music, a cerebral blend of traditional and alternative pop rock, is tame enough to inspire neither devotion nor derision. It is this quality of basic likability that made the band a top choice of the Yale College Council (YCC), the group responsible for bringing the Crows to Yale.

"We look for the biggest name we can get for the price," explains Vidhya Prabhakaran, MC '03, president of the YCC. "A lot of groups won't play college campuses." The price, a cool $60,000 (courtesy of the Tercentennial Office), managed to tempt Counting Crows, as well as their opening act, Actual Tigers. "In general, we try to look for a prominent rock or hip-hop band—something inoffensive. The good thing about rock music is even if someone doesn't like the musician, they can still `rock out' to it."

"Inoffensive" just about sums up Counting Crows' career. In the mid-'90s, rock was a creature called grunge—angry, aggressive, and trying desperately to crawl out from beneath Kurt Cobain's long shadow. Commercially and critically successful bands like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden were keeping the flame alive with a blend of old-school power chords and Reality Bites angst, and the bubble-gum pop that so dominates today's music scene was practically a black-market item. It was in this climate of intensity and alienation that Counting Crows burst onto the scene with their first album, August and Everything After.

Seven years after its release, one would be hard-pressed to find the undergraduate who doesn't know all the words to the insanely catchy "Mr. Jones," the album's first single. For many, the Crows' upbeat and energetic sound, coupled with the smart, accessible lyrics of singer-songwriter Adam Duritz, provided a much-needed break from the relentless self-importance of grunge.

The group immediately secured a fan base of discerning, if unadventurous, admirers, and in no time at all, the Crows had a smash record, a follow-up hit with "Round Here," and a lead singer dating Court-ney Cox—they were, in short, an overnight success.

But in the grand tradition of overnight successes, the Crows soon experienced the wrath of the sophomore, junior, and senior slump. Their second album, 1996's Recovering the Satellites, debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 Chart, and their relatively short career has spawned five hit singles; nevertheless, the bands' visibility on the cultural radar is best described as limited.

Whether in the halcyon days of the Seattle Era or the current reign of Britney, the Crows' problem has always been their lack of immediate relevance. They write music that is well crafted, intelligent, and distinct, but they also fail to kick ass.

Furthermore, they have yet to garner the kind of rabid following enjoyed by either Phish or *NSYNC, which would at least assure them commercial success. Too lightweight for Seattle, too sophisticated for today's teenybopper palette, what the band really needs is a music scene where it actually matters.

The present finds Counting Crows lending their own brand of gravitas to the bootylicious world of TRL. With legitimate rock and roll all but absent from the charts, the band is a welcome throwback to a time when Matchbox 20 would be laughed off the airwaves. While their music won't ever be described as ground-breaking, here at Yale it is the Crows' air of thoughtful sobriety that strikes a chord with students. "I like how their music can mix the melancholy with the cheerful and not sound childish," Lauren Simpson, MC '05, said.

"It's not Radiohead-quality music," she added. "But it's deep enough that you don't feel cheated when you listen to it."

While not everyone on campus is counting the minutes until Sunday's concert, not even the most hardcore of Yale's rock snobs can bring themselves to criticize the lineup too harshly.

Mike Alexander, MC '05, whose personal tastes run more in the vein of David Bowie and Sonic Youth, shrugs when asked about the YCC's choice of entertainment: "They're successful enough to grab a wide base of at least lukewarm support, and a big-enough name to show off Yale's ability to get celebrities. Unless something better comes up, which it won't, I'm going to the show." "Mr. Jones," anyone?

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