How I missed this great band I have no idea!! :o
But now I have discovered them, and what a discovery ^_^
Decided to check them out after seeing an MSN contact playing them all day, and got hold of "August And Everything After" today.
Instantly gripping, and it doesn't let you go either. I will be getting their other albums soon.
So, who knows 'em? Who likes 'em? :)
p.s. Will I be shot for saying they remind me a bit of Pearl Jam? :ph43r:
You really don't want me to go on AT LENGTH on why they suck beyond belief, and to interleave it with a secondary rant about Pearl Jam, now, do you? Think about it carefully.
Must....resist....going...on...
Yes, as a matter a fact I do. You are welcome to rant.
But remember, 8000 word limit on posts.
OK, that isn't a problem. I shall start the rant. But not just yet. An 8k limit on words, you say? Well, that sounds like a challenge. One I think I shall be well up for. And how will I know how far I get? (See, I am tired, what with deciding to cycle to work this week, when it was hot, and me unfit, and, dammit, if I ain't fit after a week of it I demand money back from someone.) The easiest way to get a word count is to do a wc, I suppose, so it will be a bit of cutting and pasting and wc-ing, and see how far I get. I wonder if I spin this sentence out a bit more, just to gain a few extra words, if anyone will notice. They might, especially this close to the start, so I should begin the frothing at the mouth over the disaster that is Counting Crows.
Where to start? I know, how about with the debasement of Vanessa Carlton and the pointless cover of 'Big Yellow Taxi'. Start there and work back. A pointless cover, totally devoid of musicality, originality and reeking of cash-in. It sounds very much like a film soundtrack version (was it? something is tingling *spidey sense!* that says it might have been, and I know I could google for it, but wouldn't you rather I tried to do the 8000 words in one sitting?) and that is the kiss of death for most songs, espcially as it sounded like it would fit in the latest saccarine RomCom vehicle for some slim starlet to hang her tits out and pout a lot. Not that I object to young starlets hanging their wares out and pouting, I am all for that, and posh young starlets the more so, but you can get the idea of the sort of patheticly sweet music that song is. Covers should always be different, not reverential and carbon copies. And if that was all you ever heard of the Counting Crows, lucky you. For now I delve further back.
And not that we have to go further back, just look at the disaffected, yet still lovelorn, sixth formers from around (at a guess, still steamrollering on here) 93/94. What were they to do? Their choice of music (leaving aside the usual chart pap, for they thought themselves better than that, they always do, that sort) was is a state of disarray. I should point out here that the school pupils of whom I speak are invariably female, though not exclusively so, for I know some male Counting Crows fans, but they aren't the target of my invective here.
The aesthete girls, floating on Plath and Laura Ashley, because at this point such fey-ness was hip in certain circles. Extrapolate those out to the vapid and vacuuous 20-somethings who insist on fawning and cawing, deciding that because they have some sort of soul of a poet, one of the Emily Bronte, or if they think themselves a wit, the Jane Austen type, they feel more than others, and have s sharper eye than most. Like a floral print version of a goth, I suppose.
See, you make think that I am tarring the Counting Crows as an absurd and risable band because of their fragrant fanbase, but I am not, I am setting a scene, back when there was a music industry intake of breath while various trends imploded or got exploited by The Man. And how The Kids hate The Man. But their fans must be taken into the equation, as those who haven't yet heard the band will be influenced by those around they see listening to the music. Stereotypes are there for a reason, kiddies, remember that. That uniform that you wear, I see it on the street everyday.
Of course, it has been said that me, personally, that I tend to only like the very most obscure and hip bands, and as soon as a single sells more than 500 copies, I don't like them. Well, I first heard of the Counting Crows from a friend who ran, in those days, the first Radiohead mailing list, back when whatshisface was actually on it. (I amn't a Radiohead fan, either, but don't want to waste space here talking about them,) He gave me a few of their records, and I listened.
And I hated it.
Why? Well, much in the same way as when I first saw the first episode of the X Files. Of which I also am not a fan. (Millenium was so much better. But that was back when I did watch television. I don't now. I don't get the whole interest in such non-interactive and brain numbing entertainment.) And what did I think when I saw that very first X Files? I said to myself: That will appeal to the Star Trek types. And engender a new fan, one who might be too young for Star Trek, or didn't like it, but it would evoke the same emotional response in the same type of personality. Same with the Counting Crows. When I first heard it, I knew *exactly* what sort of person would end up buying their records.
And you know what? I was right. History proved me right. The amount of mistrissi I have had that were fans, because, like, it *spoke* to them. I roll my eyes, and think back to why I hated all those girls who were Smiths fans. But really, that is just shallow. And regardless of whom I thought would end up buying the discs, that didn't mean it would be bad music. I mean, a bazillion people bought the Franz Ferdinand long player, The Engineers (one of my two fave records this year) is even on the business class music selection on British Airways flights, Ambulance Ltd have been name-checked all over the shop and even The Daily Telegraph interviewed Arcade Fire. So it didn't mean that I couldn't like the music.
but oh boy did I not like the music. I suppose in hindsight I would call it the genesis of some al-country-emo-grunge, the scene that never exploded. They must have been listening to U2 (grrr, do i not like them either) through cotton wool, but while trying to eschew the stadium rock bollocks and posturing, went in search of the now-dying grunge scene, trying to ride a commercial wave and hoist their second rate emotionally niave ramblings on a public waiting for the next big thing. Thank God it wasn't them, or we would have had to put up with a decade of thin indie boys telling us with loud gee-tars why they hate their girlfriends. Oh, hang on...
Not that that was the Crows' raison d'etre. They were above that, supposedly there was an intensity there that I was just to blind to see. Can't I feel the melody, the heartbreak, the overall lushness? Erm, no, I can't. Derivative and drivel.
Where they feted by the music press? I don't recall. I don't care. I didn't like them. My abiding memory will always be a summers day, wandering through the forest and hearing the strains of their first album destroying the peace and tranquility, and me getting into an argument with those who were playing the tape. (See, I have never been able to hold my tongue. One of these days I will learn. Think. Then Speak. Think first. Open mouth second.) Oh, how I was told (again) that I didn't get the complexity of the music, the richness, the depth. No, I didn't. I couldn't exactly call it noise, now, could I, as it wasn't something akin to the more harsh 'Pretty on the Inside' era Hole. (Hey, I have that on green vinyl. How cool is that?) Harsh I can do. Everyone likes a bit of noise.
No, I think it was the cynical _knowingness_ of the Counting Crows that put me off the most. While I am willing to accept that the SanFran slackers weren't manufactured, they certainly positioned themselves in the market place to gain the widest acceptance. Again, nowt wrong with that, aside from the fact that it seemed to me that everyone thought this was the way to do it. Playing to the galleries, no risk, no suprises, just count the cash.
Being on the back of the end of grunge, and Pearl Jam being the biggest grunge band there was (they outsold Nirvana by about 10:1 if I recall correctly), Counting Crows manufactured themselves. A ploy, and one so obvious it ranks up there with making teenagers depressed. No brainer.
You know, there is no sign of me stopping here, and I have said less in more words than usual. And not even many jokes, either. Is this the longest response ever? If not, then, goddamit, I shall ramble more the next time I try for the record. And you think I couldn't get to the 8k limit? I think I could. Perhaps not on a school night, as even at the speed I type it would take a while. I do the whole proper touch typing thing, was taught it in work a few years ago, but I could type fast even in those days, so erm, I dunno, 80 words a minute gives me 100 minutes, and if you think I will sit here for near two hours typing you would be wrong. I mean, I may not connect the brain and fingers, which is why you get such rubbish, but forcing me to do that would be cruel. Won't someone think of the children!
I need a beer. If you wish to take this up, please feel free to IM me. I think I listed it on meh account.
Oh, and the Counting Crows? They suck.
1,644 words. Not bad.
I will respond when I have the full content of your post has sunk in to my semblance pf a brane. :P (I like that)
And I was referring to their music, not their cover of Big Yellow Taxi.
And I knew you would mention The Smiths... more later anyway. :D
Now I kind of like Counting Crows, but I am not a fan.
Mr Jones was very nice. Rain King also. In fact, I did kind of like the ramshackleness of those two songs more than anything. But there it ends. Straytoaster couldn't have put it better with the Bog Yellow Taxi thing. Utterly devoid of anything worth listening to.
Now on the Pearl Jam thing, yes they do a little, and here is why: both singers cheat their way out of singing. Rather than hit notes, they kind of slur them in a pleasant rumbly way.
I don't hate them, but I don't exactly like them either.
Hmph... could spark another passionate response here...
Counting Crows are kinda nice in a tum-te-tum kinda radio friendly way.
Pearl Jam are genius.
Will expand further when can be sure that internet connection vaguely stable (wooo hooo! I'm at home and on the internet! It's just like having a birthday!)
I've seen both live but must admit the Counting Crows gig suffered from coming directly after a Complex Variable exam and me having the most chronic hay fever of my life.
*splutter* Pearl Jam genius? *choke*
OK, I know I had an, erm, liquid lunch and all, and am going back for more, but that demands putting straight. And who better to expound and pontificate and self-aggrandize than me? Oh, yes, a few people do it better than me, well, most actually, but hell, I am here and I demand to be heard.
Just not now. Not right now.
Later, I shall do more than the 1600-odd words I spat out about Counting Crows. Hey, I have an idea for a post. I bet I forget it by the time I return from the pub.
Feel free to pontificate - I am bordering on religious about Pearl Jam. You won't change my mind, but hey - there's 75 other people who might agree with you...
Thanks ;)
But back on topic, you probably should be warned that August And Everything After is their best CD. I'd say the one to get next is This Desert Life. Having said I don't really like them, we do have all their CDs in the house.