It Grows on You

After the magic of August, the Counting Crows would have needed a miracle to avoid even the slightest semblance of a sophomore slump. In my opinion, nothing could have measured up to the first album's amazing energy, beauty, and creativity. The second album from the Crows, Recovering the Satellites, though in my eyes not on the same level as August, is nonetheless a beautiful piece of musicianship which deserves a thorough listening. The main difference between the two albums is that on August, every track was amazing. On Recovering the Satellites, most tracks are still superior. There are, however, a few songs that I didn't care for. The musical quality was the key difference between albums one and two, as the lyrics on Recovering are still amazingly poignant and true. The breakdown by song:

#4 I'm Not Sleeping - Guitar enters with some twang and abrasiveness, but Duritz's voice enters soft and dream like. The song continues to build around the chorus, "I'm not sleeping anymore . . . " She, whoever she is, essentially controls me/you/Duritz. And by the end of the song, he has finally awoke from that sleep, and recognized that he does, in fact, have control. No more crying about his innocence. This is a song of redemption. If you've been dumped, if you've broken up, and you know that you're still in love, but want to feel some inkling of redemption and empowerment, give it a listen. But be forewarned, it returns in the end . . . to the girl . . who he sees everywhere . . the girl who he will follow all the way down . . with the knowledge that she does have him wrapped around her fingers . . he'll go down into the valley willingly with the knowledge that he won't come up again . . . and then, suddenly building again, Duritz is out the door . .

#5 Goodnight Elizabeth - The winter of Belinda. So young and sweet. And then she was gone. And I wished that I could have held her inside of me, never let her go, shielded her from the world and from myself. Belinda was my Elizabeth. I found myself waiting to see her in bars, airports, or just walking down the sidewalk on an autumn afternoon. But like Elizabeth, she was gone. And we never spoke again. The instrumental is so incredibly soothing and peaceful with a somber undertone. More lulling into a sorrowful sleep . . . The song rounds back into Duritz's often abstract poetry . . "i will wait for you in Baton Rouge / i’ll miss you down in New Orleans / i’ll wait for you while she slips in something comfortable and i’ll miss you when i’m slipping in between / if you wrap yourself in daffodils / i will wrap myself in pain / and if you're the queen of california / baby i am the king of the rain and i say / goodnight elisabeth."


#6 Children in Bloom - Beautiful nonsense. Beautiful meaningful sentiment masked by nonsense. Children in bloom. Gotta get out on their own. Waiting . . . waiting to grow up . . . so many childhoods are filled with pain . . . and we dream each night like Jenny in Forrest Gump of growing up and flying away . . . but we also grow and dream of adulthood with the knowledge that we will leave a part of us behind back there in that funhouse which Duritz can't seem to locate this year . . .

"Where's the funhouse this year?
the fairground's deserted and the skies don't seem as near
Nicole's my oldest friend
but the altar is empty and she'll never be a little girl again

I gotta get out on my own
I gotta get up from this waiting at home
I gotta get out of this sunlight
It's melting my bones
I gotta get up from this slumber and get myself home
I can't find my way home"

Trying to find one's way home. Because whatever use to be home can no longer be home. So we keep trying to get back, blind to the fact that back is not where our real home will exist. And as the music becomes jumbled and confusing, we experience those sentiments of searching and confusion on both a lyrical and instrumental level . . .

#8 Miller's Angels - Enters soft, builds to the bridge, and then subsides again . . . sort of like the storm. Many of the songs on this album have a similar style. We're in pain. We try and mask this pain through anger. In the end, when all the anger is spent, we realize that we are left where we began . . . with pain. I honestly can't figure this one out, but the mood and tone of the song is more somber than most other songs on the album. Incredibly delicate vocals until the climatic frenzy . .

"Miller's angels in black and white
Welcome everyone in
Children dreaming of wrong and right
Wrapped in grace and in sin . . . "

#10 Recovering the Satellites - The title track does not disappoint, and depending on the mood I find myself in, it is one of my favorites on the album. The song's feel echos of Mr. Jones; they both share that excited, nervous, beautifully fearful energy. I got the album during one of the most trying winters of my life. Nearly every song on the cd is depressing, but I find this one to be quite the opposite. Each Crows album has that one track which fills you with so much hope for the future; that one song which makes you want to stand up in the middle of a crowded building and yell, "Dammit! Everybody run outside, everybody be free! Live dammit, live! Seize the day . . . " And that's the sentiment that flows through my body when I hear this song. It's the song for the end of winter, when you think spring will never come, and you get a day of fifty degrees and warm sun . . . and you remember . . . you remember the dreams that do not die . . . you remember all that you use to believe in and all that you used to desire . . . and you want another chance at getting it all, getting the love and the glory . . you feel strong enough to take on the world all over again, even if only to loose . . . because you realize that nothing can keep you down forever . . . When am I gonna come down? Never.

"Gonna get back to basics
Guess I'll start it up again
I'm fallin' from the ceiling
You're falling from the sky now and then

Maybe you were shot down in pieces
Maybe I slipped in between
But we were gonna be the wildest people they ever hoped to see
Just you and me

So why'd you come home to this sleepless town
It's a lifetime commitment
Recovering the satellites
All anybody really wants to know is...
when you gonna come down . . . "

#13 - Long December - So many songs by this band are filled with internal contradictions and juxtapositions. The song, upon first listen, is insanely depressing. The year has been long and trying, the year has been painful, and Duritz hasn't seen the ocean in a long long time. The vocals sound incredibly melancholy; somewhat similar in quality to Duritz's sound on Sulvian Street from the first album. I remember playing this song on repeat. It was December, Belinda and I had broken up in late November. December never felt so long in my life. But in spite of all the misery, and in spite of Duritz's melancholy crooning, the overall essence of Long December is a positive one. The song ends on the note, "Guess I should . . . " And that much, at least, is empowering. I am just stuck wondering if Duritz is singing that this year will be better than the last because the last year was so horrible that it's pain will never be equaled, or, if this year might actually be a good one? Regardless . . . he guesses that he should go see the ocean . . . and doing something, doing anything to remove oneself from the throws of a long and bitter December, is a positive action in the right direction. Still, the song depresses me greatly each time I hear it. Only a tribute to the Crow's ability to make you feel every emotion so intensely.

The line to remember:

"The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl . . . "


#14 Walkaways - Each song that I have listed here could vie for the title of my favorite song on the Counting Crows' sophomore album. It would most likely be a toss up between Recovering the Satellites (if I'm in a happy mood) and Goodnight Elizabeth (if I feel like I need to cry). The last track seems a bit too short to be a complete song. The last track doesn't give us any closure. It leaves us waiting; leaves us feeling lost and alone, swimming through an indifferent world. The guitar is pure; beautifully simple. No other instruments can be heard. Just guitar and the melancholy voice of Duritz. She's leaving again. Someone is always leaving. But it's all the same. They're all leaving, so I'll leave with them, in the hope that I will not be left behind, left alone . . . again.


Complete lyrics (the song runs 1:11) -

""I gotta rush away," she said,
"I been to Boston before.
and anyways
this change I been feeling
doesn't make the rain fall"

No big differences these days
just the same old walkaways
and someday
i’m gonna stay
but not today."


Overall

Lyrically, the album is every bit as amazing as the first. The difference, however, lies in the music; the instrumentation is a bit funkier then it was on August and Everything After. Personally, I prefer less funky music to accompany such beautiful lyrics. There were times, however, when the funky, climactic frenzy of instruments actually worked in the right way, and added an interesting new dimension to the stylings of the Counting Crows. Every song that I have described above is absolutely amazing. The rest are, for the most part, good tracks. Monkey was a bit too upbeat and funky for me, but other than that, I have little to say in the way of negative criticism. This album is filled with feeling. The emotions conveyed run the gamut: sorrow, pain, exultation, hope . . . . This album is so incredibly human.