Counting Crows
This Desert Life

THE REVIEW

"I don't desire a rose at Christmas any more than I would desire snow in May: of all things, I like them to mature in their season." - (W. Shakespeare)

Who among us doesn't carry around a burden of beliefs, certainties, and fixations?

There's little to do about it; it is used as an ideal counterweight to insecurity and instability. By categorizing objects, people, or feelings, they become magically more manageable, and this "trick" works wonderfully with music as well.

An example?

The more I try to escape from the prison of ideas in which the first 4 albums of the Counting Crows appear SEASONAL, the fewer escape routes I find to prove that I'm wrong.

Like dried birch leaves carpeting the ground with ochre and vinaccia, 1993's "August and Every After" evokes autumn just as much as the gloomy "Recovering the Satellites" from '96 and the casual "Hard Candy" from 2002 respectively release winter and summer vibes.

"This Desert Life" seals my associative/assertive network by bringing together 10 tracks like a florist would assemble a bunch of poppies and snowdrops.

Handclaps and a swift endorphin release mark the opener "Hanginaround," which, roaming free and bohemian, refreshes the lesson imparted by The Band exactly 30 years prior, just like the VanMorrisonian (and a bit verbose...) "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby," with its compelling choral performance, dispels any doubts about the roots of the crew under the command of Adam Duritz.

It's precisely the Maryland-born singer who delivers a vibrant performance in the liquid and consoling ballad "Amy Hit the Atmosphere," followed by a "Four Days" that is very R.E.M.-oriented and consumed by nostalgia.

"Amy hit the atmosphere, she boarded a rocket

and flew away from this road

and she won't return, I'm afraid.

But every time it rains, she feels much better.

And that's all that really matters."

Finely crafted, with strings that are anything but superfluous and a more than pleasant guitar improvisation, the dynamic "All my Friends" contrasts with the half-baked effort of "High Life," before the extremely fragile and layered "Colorblind," floating on a cumulus cloud of piano, reminds us of the aridity of solitude.

"I am covered in skin

and no one tries to get in.

Pull me out from inside,

I am folded and unfolded and unfolding.

I am...colorblind..."

"I Wish I Was a Girl" is an exciting Indie-Rock fresco combining an immensely enjoyable verse with a refrain illuminated by guitars darting like eels. Irresistible.

Emotional self-destruction is the main theme of the sonic watercolor titled "Speedway," which precedes the closing track "St. Robinson and His Cadillac Dream."

Throughout life, roads can diverge due to different aspirations, and this banjo and Hammond-filled Country seems placed here to remind us of that.

"This Desert Life" remains the least known, sold, and probably least representative album of the 7 from San Francisco, but what can I say...it works!!!

In autumn as in spring...