Our first four records were primarily produced in homes situated in the foothills above Los Angeles. August and Everything After signified a significant step for the band, as it was their inaugural release on a large record company. We each received an advance of $3,000; with it, I to purchase a classic red convertible and traveled to LA.
Every morning, my routine included by listening to Pickin’ Up the Pieces by Poco, which sounds like the Beatles exploring American folk. Additionally, I frequently played a Benny Goodman album that my dad had picked up as a free giveaway at a gas station during my childhood.
The song Mr Jones was part of a demo tape that we sent to labels, but it was a challenging track to complete. We didn’t have a clear direction at first. Neither a slow ballad or a straight ahead number; rather, it gallops along, requiring a deep understanding to perform. It’s soul music – closer to the Memphis soul sound than folk.
Our drummer struggled to grasp the song as the rest of us did – so T Bone brought in one of his idols to perform on it.
We considered several producers, but when I spoke with the producer, he seemed to get where the band was at. We had a lot of promise, but I wasn’t satisfied with our sound – we hadn’t learned how to be a band. We removed all the synthesizers and effects pedals. Our drummer Steve Bowman had trouble with the song’s rhythm, so T Bone called in Denny Fongheiser, one of Steve’s heroes, to play on it. Looking back, it’s amusing, but it was tough on Steve at the time.
My best friend Marty and I performed in groups together prior to Counting Crows. Marty’s dad, David Serva, had made it in Spain and was returning in the Bay Area performing a series of shows. Attended one of his shows and hung out with the flamenco troupe visiting bars. The next morning, I went home and composed the song. It’s about me and Marty that evening, dreaming we were accomplished artists so we could connect with the girls more easily.
In my view, it’s one of the best pieces I’ve composed. After playing another track on SNL in 1994, the record climbed 40 spots each week for over a month. Following that, Mr Jones became a major success.
Back in the 80s, the band members were living together in a warehouse complex in Berkeley. Previously, I performed with Camper Van Beethoven and was in an side project named Monks of Doom.
One evening, Adam had a fresh recording he’d just done with Bryson. He played me this track called the now-famous tune. It was done with a basic drum machine that sounded like a arcade sound or popcorn popping, but his vocals were exceptional.
After the producer got involved, it was a total reinvention of Counting Crows. The approach back to basics influenced by Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, and the Band.
Adam called me saying, “Listen, can you come down and contribute to this record?” When I arrived, the producer had relocated us to a studio in LA’s Encino – previously used by a Jackson 5 member. Inside, we found instruments that Dylan had just recorded on.
He told me to play my guitar slightly behind the drums. He said, “Playing too fast before the drums makes you sound like an adolescent hurrying.” With his southern accent, and his guidance was to imagine relaxing on the console and staying casual during the performance.
The band was, to an extent, a response to grunge. Kurt Cobain’s death felt like the final act. Back then, everyone were on heroin. The goal was self-destruction, not enlightenment. The nihilism had reached an extreme, and the pendulum swung toward something more human and sincere. Their music combined acoustic and electric with a strong influence of soulful vibes.
The song never gets old. Sometimes, when performing with the singer, I recall that moment when he played me the early version. Absolutely incredible.
Wildlife biologist specializing in sloth research with over a decade of field experience in Central and South America.