REVIEW: Counting Crows - Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets!

There’s a line in the song ‘Anna Begins’ that says; “Oh” she says “You’re changing” but we’re always changing, it does not bother me to say.”

It’s inevitable.

It’s 2025, for Christ's sake. Everything has changed. Trying not to look at the pains that come with the present, society looks to the past to see how they got here. And who better to swan-dive into this swamp of nostalgic existentialism than Counting Crows, the patron saints of melancholic navel-gazing. To many they’re the band that feature on various film soundtracks and dominated many a bedroom of flannel-clad Hikkikomoris looking longingly at birds on telephone wires. Their sudden, dramatic success is down to the strong emotions evoked in their music. The bittersweet melodies contrasting with singer/songwriter Adam Duritz’s loquacious lyricism that once spoke of longing to be recognised, then sharply turned into wishing he was invisible. That's the Crows' magic: making you feel like your pain was universal and vaguely poetic, even when it wasn’t.

It appears that it took a global pandemic to convince them to finally get out of the funk and back into making music. Society fell apart, people learned to bake bread badly, and somewhere in that isolationist haze, Counting Crows remembered they were, in fact, a band. And in 2021, they came out with an EP called Butter Miracle, Suite One. Initially a prelude to another EP, namely Suite Two, it appears that it’s had a thorough re-look, with some additional material added to form a full LP. Their first album in 11 years. That’s a long time in dog years - or music years - heck, even plague years.

In a real sense, this album is about dealing with change. Gone are the dreadlocks of Duritz, that salacious rock ‘n’ roll star hairdo, tangled symbols of yearning for fame. That was a very long time ago, the Crows are extant now in an unrecognisable world. The amazing thing is how beautiful that change can be. The opener ‘With Love From A-Z’ is a bluesy slow-jam, a loving tribute, omnipresent, as if Duritz is a great spirit watching over the dejected ones. ‘Spaceman In Tulsa’ follows, a nostalgic jam that will make you feel old and young at the same time. In the vein of songs like ‘Get Back’ and ‘Mmm mmm mmm mmm,’ it concerns a varied cast of characters with rough upbringings channelling their energies into performing. Feeling liberated, but always different. It seems that they have finally come to terms with their stardom, that great and elusive beast now tamed and rolling around in the litterbox.

It is followed by ‘Boxcars’ in all of its upbeat rock glory. The drums of Jim Bogios drive the beat forward whilst the guitar efforts of Immerglück, Bryson, and Vickrey crunch through Duritz’ soaring lyricism. There’s a political penchant to these lyrics, decrying the dangers of convention; “we are numb-struck, dumb, left out in the sun, and we’re sick of everything.” This is their protest song, maybe. ‘Virginia Through The Rain’ is a slow-jam like their beloved ‘A Long December.’ An amende honorable, sombre and serious. ‘Under The Aurora’ is a Beatles-esque number that smacks of a grown-up ‘Mr. Jones.’ From “Believe in me, ’cause I don’t believe in anything,” to “I want to believe in something.” It’s the sound of somebody still paying attention, still searching, even when the world’s louder and more chaotic than ever. It’s ‘Ashes to Ashes’ to their ‘Space Oddity,’ decades have passed and reconciliation is nigh.

From then on the EP songs comprise the rest of the album. It’s a concept suite, half rock opera, half therapy session. ‘The Tall Grass’ evokes imagery of loss of innocence, with a rabbit in death throes and Duritz asking the listener; “can you see me?” ‘Elevator Boots’ is a 70s throwback with echoes of peak Elton John about one-night-stand’s on the road and how they only serve the nefarious high that some musicians are junkies for. Next is ‘The Angel of 14th Street,’ a cautionary tale to not dwell on the past, "If God is dead why am I here, did he leave a light on for me?” The last song is ‘Bobby and the Rat Kings,’ a number surprisingly similar to Springsteen’s ‘Thunder Road’ complete with piano. It ties the themes of the EP together in a nice little bow, resolving the character’s arcs and presenting a band on the mend, a band who made pining cool, with time being the greatest healer of all.

Hoo boy. What a listen. Perhaps Butter Miracle was an apt title, as this thing is dense and miraculously realised. In a social media dominated world many rock bands are faced with the reality that some of their material has grown stale with the times. No such dilemma exists for the Crows as they are on top form, masterfully mixing their solemnity with pertinence and through this re-appraising their previous works. The miracle of Butter Miracle, if there is one, isn’t that it’s a comeback. It’s a continuation. Counting Crows have learned, they have let the passage of time ebb and flow over them, let it change them. And somehow, against the odds, they still sound like themselves. Only older. And perhaps much better for it.

There is a real, palpable passion behind this album, like a tenderly made crochet job. Their die-hard fans will eat this up like communion wafers. And the civilians tuning in on the radio might feel a pang too, but this isn’t the Counting Crows you used to cry to in your bedroom at 17. This is Duritz weathered and wounded, finally coming in from the cold and the rest of the band blasting out their bluesy finery. The yearning is still there, yeah, but it has metamorphosed. It’s muted. It’s nodding with seasoned eyes saying, “Yeah, kid, I remember.” Coming with it is an unusual serenity, the Duritz you once knew seems to finally be at ease with his songwriting and the vestibules of fame and fortune. To quote the great Little Richard, he got what he wanted, but he lost what he had. And in this case, that’s not just okay. That’s beautiful.

Score: 8/10

Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets! will be released on May 9th 2025 via BMG.

Words: Kiarash Golshani

Photos: Counting Crows