Meandering Thoughts: On Counting Crows and "August And Everything After"

One of the pleasures of growing up in the Dunford household was the slow earning of privileges. Specifically, as my three brothers and I got progressively older, we were allowed to stay up increasingly late and watch different kinds of television.

I couldn’t tell you how old I was when I started watching “Saturday Night Live,” to be honest with you. I could tell you that the cast of the show included such comedy superstars as Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, and Chris Farley. I could also tell you that, before I watched a single frame of a live show, I was already well versed in the culture of “Saturday Night Live” – a couple of years before I’d seen the show, I read a copy of “Saturday Night: A Backstage History,” a now-out of print book that chronicled the show’s ups and downs in graphic, sensational history that my Uncle Chris gave to me to read during a visit to my grandparents’ house. Enamored with what I’d read (even though the book was a warts-and-all portrayal of the show and process that didn’t necessarily lend itself to being viewed in a good light), and spurred on by my father’s habit of taking movies out from the library, I began to watch older “greatest hits” highlights of “Saturday Night Live” – the best sketch comedy work of folks like John Belushi, Bill Murray, and Eddie Murphy.

However, when I started watching the show on a regular basis, I found the comedy end to be somewhat lacking. Like many viewers of the show, I was measuring the show with one of the harshest yardsticks possible – that of the aforementioned comedy gods. Let’s face it – when you’re trying to fill shoes as big as those left behind by the late, great Gilda Radner with the feet of someone as catastrophically atrocious as, say, Melanie Hutsell, then you’re already kind of dooming yourself to failure.

The reason I watched a lot of the shows that “Saturday Night Live” aired during my high school years was because of the music. In one season of the show (the 1993-94 season), the bands that performed included Nirvana, Cypress Hill, the then-newly-revitalized Aerosmith, Smashing Pumpkins, and Snoop Doggy Dogg. The music was generally phenomenal during my introductory years.

The band that I remember the most from this time-period on “Saturday Night Live” was, surprisingly, Counting Crows. The Counting Crows debuted on “Saturday Night Live” in January of 1994, the same week that my father had a heart attack. I remember staying up to watch the show with my older brother, who was home from college at the time, and watching the entire episode of this show. I’d not heard of Counting Crows before the previous week’s announcement of the musical guest, and I had no idea of what to expect until I heard the first notes of their first song.

The song that they played was “Round Here,” which was unlike anything else I was listening to at the time. My musical tastes were dominated by angry, grungy rock music (although my favorite album at the time was R.E.M.’s quiet, melancholy “Automatic For The People”). “Round Here” wasn’t particularly angsty or loud – it was quiet and melancholy without being particularly sweeping or orchestral. It was yearning music, sung by a weird-looking dude with dreadlocks and played by a band of folks who didn’t look like the grunge-muppet misfits that I liked to listen to. Perhaps it was the time and place, or perhaps it was the right sounds and message at the right time, but I was completely mesmerized.

I sought out a copy of Counting Crows’ debut album, “August and Everything After,” soon after, and I fell in love. 1994 wound up being a miserable year for me personally, but there was always comfort in that album for me – whether it was the ballads (“Anna Begins,” “Sullivan Street”) or the faster songs (the ubiquitous radio smash “Mr. Jones,” as well as “Rain King” and “A Murder Of One”). For better or worse, that album soundtracked a lot of terrible things for me that summer – hospital visits, funerals, and the car trips and waiting rooms in between.

Like just about every year in history, 1994 came to an end, just like every streak of luck (whether good or bad) comes to an end. I still find a lot of comfort in the “August and Everything After” album; I’ve never thought about why I do, really, but I think it has something to do with having made it through the difficult times and emerging. I mean, I cannot listen to a wide range of music (from Bob Dylan and Mercury Rev to Radiohead’s “Kid A” album) without thinking about being in Manhattan on September 11th , 2001), but I can still listen to “August and Everything After” without those feelings coming back.

Interestingly enough (and perhaps coincidentally), when I’m in periods of transition, I find myself gravitating back to the Counting Crows. For example, when I decided to move to upstate New York and pursue my Master’s degree, the song that meant a lot to me was “A Murder Of One.” The end of college had a lot to do with “Recovering The Satellites,” from their second album for me. Now I’m in another time of transition, and I find myself back, listening to “Sullivan Street” from that album. It’s comforting and wonderful.