(Credits: Far Out / Counting Crows / Ehud Lazin)
Counting Crows – ‘Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets!’
THE SKINNY: We review a lot of albums here at Far Out. Week in, week out, I’m presented with something from a band that I might have heard before or am only just experiencing for the first time. I’m grateful for every piece of music that I’m sent, as I know that behind it is the hard work from a passionate creative. Unfortunately, there are just some records that I’m unable to connect with, and that’s exactly what happened this week with Counting Crows’ new album, Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets!
There is no escaping the fact that with Counting Crows, you have a team of great musicians. The instrumentation on this album is solid, and the vocals sound great; however, the way they come together on this record feels somewhat disingenuous. It sounds less like rock music and more like someone parodying it, as if they had never heard a Bruce Springsteen song but had one described to them in great detail and then tried to write their own.
There is absolutely no doubt that there are people out there who will love this album, but it all feels so haphazard and intentional on this record that I can’t listen to it with sincerity. The storytelling is forced down the listener’s throat, the lyrics come together in a messy way, and the album is overall an exhausting piece of music to listen to. It sounds less like music and more like something masquerading as it.
Distant yet insistently garish, this unfortunate throwback of an album lands in an awkward no-man’s land of not being retro but being a million miles from fresh. So, sadly, unless you’re swept up in the nostalgia that a band like Counting Crows can offer, you’ll be cringing at the dated dolefulness of an album whose most interesting facet is how sometimes you can’t quite put your finger on what’s going wrong.
For fans of: Flat beer, long walks (with bad views) and khaki trousers.
A concluding comment from Bruce Springsteen: “I don’t remember writing this.”
Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets! Track by track:
Release: May 7th | Producer: Brian Deck | Label: BMG
‘With Love From A-Z’: The album starts busy. Guitar, piano and drums tumble on top of one another before raspy vocals speaking of travels past and future grace a ballad-like instrumentation. The persistent swing present throughout this track gives it a real head-nodding feel as the lyrics continue, “I send ‘em with love from A-Z.” [3/5]
‘Spaceman In Tulsa’: The indie pop nature of this instrumentation is simple but a lot of fun to listen to. It ends sharply, similar to its predecessors, before minimalist instrumentation makes way for what can only be described as terrible lyrics. The intention to tell a story and give crowds something to sing along to is forced so heavily onto the listener that it feels overwhelming. It’s not a bad song, in the same way a lemon isn’t a bad-tasting fruit, but too much of it and I start pulling a weird face. [2/5]
‘Boxcars’: There is a glimpse at a hard rock riff, which is taken away as quickly as it starts. There seems to be a Bruce Springsteen influence on this track, but it comes across as a watered-down version of The Boss as opposed to a decent homage to him. Again, it’s hard to describe this song as bad, but it insists upon itself so forcefully that it feels like a parody of a rock song as opposed to an actual rock song. [2/5]
‘Virginia Through The Rain’: Time to slow things down. We return to the ballad on ‘Virginia Through The Rain’, and it has to be said that when they strip things back, it does the band many favours. They’re good musicians, and when they’re not letting their ideas run at a million miles an hour, you’re given a moment to appreciate that. [3/5]
‘Under The Aurora’: Sometimes an intro isn’t a bad thing, and that’s what this album seems to be missing. We get a couple of snare hits before this strange approach to lyricism is back down our ears. The listeners could do with a break from this overwhelming amount of words, but the band seem unwilling to give it to us. [2/5]
‘The Tall Grass’: A simple electronic minimalist beat and singular strums on an acoustic guitar provide the backdrop for borderline spoken word lyrics. The vocals are very pitchy on this song, and the lacklustre nature of the instrumentation makes this one of the dullest tracks on the album. Two minutes feels like 20, four like a lifetime. [0/5]
‘Elevator Boots’: More storytelling on ‘Elevator Boots’. I have no doubt that there are people who are going to love this album, and I can imagine this track being played in dive bars everywhere, but it’s just incredibly hard to find anything charming or compelling about it, especially seven songs into the album. [2/5]
‘Angel of 14th Street’: At this point, I just have to chalk this down to personal preference. The country/stadium rock sound of this album is hard to get excited about. I’m happy that I’m sure people are going to enjoy it, but it’s not for this writer. Turns out there are some things even a saxophone can’t fix. [1.5/5]
‘Bobby and the Rat-Kings’: This is the last song on the album. Distorted guitars play loud, creating an anthemic feel. The lyrics contain a narrative similar to that we’ve grown accustomed to, and the only other thing that can be said about this track is that it’s the closer. [2.5/5]
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