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Counting Crows have three guitarists. That's as many as Iron Maiden, a band whose stage set usually features a giant zombie head. But overkill is the live approach of this American seven-piece. From singer Adam Duritz' rambling monologues (one slamming a report that he was drunk/high/jet-lagged at the band's Johannesburg show) to the lighting system borrowed from OR Tambo's runways, their show at Cape Town's Grand Arena is a masterclass in the "more is more" ideology.
Shameless showmanship is what rock 'n roll is all about, and Duritz knows it. Without a hint of embarrassment he leaps on monitors, vaults into the air off his microphone stand, acts out the songs with his hands, and quite literally loses himself in the music, wandering across the stage like someone who's drunk/high/jet-lagged. But he's clearly not; it takes real focus and concentration to put such emotion into a vocal performance that tears through the wall of drums, bass, keyboards and those guitars.
More comfortable with the material off their recent return-to-form 'Saturday Nights, Sunday Mornings', his distinctive voice sets alight fist-pumping newies like 'Cowboys', 'Hanging Tree', and the immaculate 'Sundays' — which somehow sounds both more muscular and delicate than the studio version. The slow burning 'Le Ballet D'or' is even better, showcasing Duritz' singing as well as the skill of the six musicians surrounding him — their talent further reinforced by the epic jamming during the rare outing of 'Children In Bloom' and the powerful, slowed-down interpretation of 1993's 'Time And Time Again'.
They're performances that only make their quick encore run through 'Mr Jones' and 'Big Yellow Taxi' sound rough and tumble. But the hit-hungry crowd clearly don't care, singing along even louder than they do during an uplifting 'A Long December', stretched to its 'Hey Jude' na-na-na singalong limit by the singer at his piano.
And yet, during the adulation of American excess, it's the quietest moment that's the most stirring. On a dimly lit stage, initially accompanied by just a piano, Duritz puts all his anguish and torment into an immaculate 'Colourblind', the mood matching the dreary grey New York skyline that forms the stage backdrop.
For once, less is more.