It’s precisely because Adam Duritz and Counting Crows epitomize my scene, my generation, my hopes and aspirations for this world, and everything after, that I am gonna bust his chops a little here in Plastic Alto.

And not that he needs me for consiglieri or in his posse; last time I checked he was rolling with Gary Gersh, former President of Capitol, who married Anne Cook’s roommate, as P.M. so what do I know?

But I gotta say: what do you feed that thing?

That thing you ‘do.

Adam Duritz on Seth Myers show, May, 2014,

Plains Indians buffalo dancer. The character in Coen Brother’s “True Grit” selling snake oil. A pharaoh. Groucho Marx. He talked for  a while and then the band played “Round Here” and “Hanging Around” which are almost in my DNA, but I was kinda distracted by the hair. In 2003, when I was tour manager (and P.M.) for Stew as Adam so kindly invited my clients along on tour, I got a tiny bit of interaction with the guy, who was then and still is now A TOTAL BOSS (I think that’s how kids talk today, he is “boss” or “a boss”, more so, in my opinion, than Bruce, in my world, way out west); I definitely noted that close up, like at the breakfast table, maybe at Great Woods, in line for food that is, I noted that those were definitely extensions, a weave, and not natural dreadlocks — my girlfriend at the time Anthea C., who is West Indian, and had or has dreads, would also scold me if I confused braids with dreads or something, and she said that when they were both at Cal (she after a year at Wesleyand, he after some time at UC Davis) he would say “hey” and check out her here. To me, even in 2003, A.D. (who I practically worship, despite the fact that I am kinda slagging the guy here), had grayish and thinning hair attached to the more rockstar, reggae, trustafarian ‘do. And Adam was a total stud then; there was a bigger stud in his posse, who at first I mistook for a musician or management but was also like their recreation director; the band brought along or had in their rider a half court basketball set up and the dude would rally up the guys to get some exercise, their guys, the Crows, not the openers, I don’t think — not the for five of the ten dates I was at, at least –and not John Mayer, who co-headlined and closed the show, but had an entire different set-up.

So I was kinda scrutinizing how he looks now, on TV, how the years have treated him. (And, honestly, it kinda made me feel good in that I hit the big 5-0 and do not feel like McGarret, but these guys, although they look like aging rock stars, do not look like kids in their twenties anymore either).

Besides the hair even the goatee or Van Dyken or what-not the facial styling, looked kinda phony or after-market.

I would think even going out with thinning hair and all that he would still rock people. I think he wants to look good or look like 1994 from the lawn seats of an amphitheater — I guess he would know his business.

Stew and Adam Duritz are starting to look more like each other.

When Stew (The Negro Problem, “Passing Strange”, actually Stew and Heidi and three sidemen) opened ten shed dates for Counting Crows in 2003 back East, Adam would come out and sit and the mixing station and watch every set. Kids would line up to get his autograph and after dutifully signing each t-shirt, cd or ticket stub, he would shout-whisper, over the music “Watch this guy!” or “Watch this act!”. Adam Duritz always had an eye or ear for other up-and-coming talent and would offer a hand-up where he could, like for Engine 88, or for the list of support acts when they did multi-dates to re-open the post-quake Fillmore.

Also reminds me of the conversation I had with another artist about the four phases of Papa Mali: Papa Mali, with dreads, Papa Mali without dreads, Malcolm Welbourne (his real name, which he uses as a sideman on Texas music, rather than the funk or reggae scenes which gave him his nom de guerre) with dreads, and Malcolm Welbourne without dreads.