COUNTING CROWS

Nearly two decades have passed since Counting Crows exploded onto the scene with their multiplatinum debut August and Everything After and its smash single, “Mr. Jones.” Even as the band has built on that foundation with one critically acclaimed album of originals after another, it has carved out a reputation for interpreting others’ material—from filling in for an absent Van Morrison by performing “Caravan” at the 1993 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony to scoring a surprise hit with a 2003 cover of Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi.” The group—which has sold more than 20 million albums worldwide—marked its 2009 departure from longtime label Geffen by releasing a live version of Madonna’s “Borderline” through its website.

So it’s no surprise that Counting Crows has long considered making a full album of other artists’ songs—an ambition finally fulfilled with the new Underwater Sunshine (or What We Did on Our Summer Vacation), released on the group’s own Collective Sounds label. Wildly eclectic, the covers disc ranges from vintage power-pop (Big Star’s “The Ballad of El Goodo”) to ’70s country-rock (Pure Prairie League’s “Amie”) to a clutch of tunes by lesser-known indie artists (Dawes’ “All My Failures,” Coby Brown’s “Hospital”). “This is probably the most obscure covers album ever made,” says frontman Adam Duritz. “It’s a testament to the fact that great music is coming from all sorts of places.” Duritz spoke with us from San Francisco about the new album, his uneasy relationship with fame and why 2012 is an especially good time to be making music.

How was it recording covers?

I didn’t anticipate how great it would feel. You put in all the effort you normally would with arrangements and everything else, but you’re not ripping it out of your own gut. You want to be as emotional as you can be and reveal just as much feeling, but the stakes aren’t as big in the sense that you’re not opening up about your life. It’s great to put aside all the turmoil that goes along with scraping out your insides and just play music because you like it.

How did you choose the songs?

We picked songs we loved without regard to genre or time period. They span about 50 years. These are all great songs, but we didn’t concern ourselves with what other people would think about them. It’s different from when you’re writing. When you’re writing, you want to express how you feel. Judging whether a song you’ve written is good or bad is up to someone else. If you express what you’re trying to express, then you’ve accomplished what you’re trying to do. It’s different when you’re looking at someone else’s songs, determining what you want to sing and what you want to play. You’re looking more for what gets you fired up.

Did you record live in the studio?

We’ve always recorded that way. That idea came from Robbie Robertson. We hung out and talked with him before we started recording our first album. I told him I was worried that the band would get uptight in a big recording studio. I was concerned that our songs would become sterile because the guys would feel pressured to play them “right.” He said, “Why don’t you just rent a house? That’s what the Band always did.” So we’ve always rented a big, empty house and set up a home recording studio with our own equipment. It was only when we made our last album, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings [2008], that we made a complete album in an actual studio.

Do you still like “Mr. Jones”?

I love that song. The label didn’t want “Mr. Jones” as the single. They wanted “A Murder of One,” because it had a Jesus Jones-style drum beat. They also wanted to edit it down, but I told them I wasn’t editing any songs. I felt “Mr. Jones” was better, so we agreed to disagree—and released nothing. Then we went on the road, and radio folks started asking about our album. We suggested they play “Mr. Jones.” But actually, the band really blew up big after we played “Round Here” on Saturday Night Live [in January 1994]. “Round Here” set the tone for what everyone was coming to our shows for. “Round Here” was a good song to launch us.

How did you handle success?

I flipped out. I had a hard time dealing with that first year. I didn’t change much at all, but it seemed everyone around me began acting weird. They’re looking at you all the time, and they don’t talk to you anymore. They talk at you. You become more like a souvenir than a person, a souvenir of yourself. I wasn’t ready for people to look at me in that way. It still makes me uncomfortable. Also, silly as it seems, I’ve always been camera shy, going back to when I was a kid. Suddenly I found myself in a situation where everyone wanted to take my picture. That alone nearly caused a nervous breakdown. Standing in front of a camera with a stupid grin on my face makes me sweat even now.

What’s your writing process?

For long stretches I don’t write much. Then I’ll start, and out pops an album. I don’t think it’s changed much—I try to write and sing what feel. I can’t play guitar or piano very well. I can’t play by ear, and that lack of ability makes writing more difficult. A lot of times I hear songs in my head, then write them on piano and teach them to the guys. They don’t really become songs until we all work on them. That’s when they get good. After that I let it go as soon as I can. I have no idea how to play “Mr. Jones,” for example. I taught that song to them a long time ago and I haven’t had much occasion to play it since. I can play “A Long December,” but that’s only because I play it on piano in our shows.

So it’s about vocal melody?

No. I hear the chords in my head and often hear arrangements as well. I can’t play it all, but I hear it and I tend to be good at arranging things. I just have to hum it to the other guys. I have my own names for chords, which the guys think is hysterical. And occasionally I’ll pick up the guitar, but we have three guitar players in the band—anytime I’ve tried to get serious about it, they make fun of me. (laughs) Their worst nightmare is a fourth guitar player. As much as we love one another, as much as we’re like brothers, they would die if I started playing in concert.

How do you see the music industry?

It’s a fantastic time to be a musician. In some ways it reminds me of the ’80s. There was a freedom about the way bands were making music. The popular bands weren’t necessarily on major labels. R.E.M. was huge, and they were on I.R.S. We came out of that college radio scene, as did a lot of the bands we toured with after that. The ’80s really was the heyday of college radio and independent music. There was a flood of great music then, and the same is true now.

–Russell Hall