The anguish of a Swiftie
Hell hath no fury like a Taylor Swift song covered in the presence of a Swiftie.
I decided to get a ticket to the Counting Crows show last night at the last minute. I won’t critique the show other than to say that Adam Duritz and co. were in fine form — very fine form indeed. The show wasn’t a carbon copy of the songs from albums; there was enough improvisation to remind us that they were still a rock and roll band.
Dare I say the Counting Crows were having fun?
And, as is the bands wont, they threw in a few cover songs, including “Blues Run the Game” by Jackson C. Frank, “Big Yellow Taxi” by Joni Mitchell, and “The 1” by Taylor Swift (after a false start) — the latter of which they have been covering almost every night on this tour (according to setlist.fm).
I didn’t recognize the song until I heard the woman behind me braying: “Oh no, I can’t believe he is doing this.”
Now, I don’t know the Swift song, but the woman sitting behind me did.
She knew it quite well.
A little later: “He’s ruining it!”
It certainly didn’t sound that way to me. It sounded like a very faithful and honest re-interpretation of the song.
At this point, I turned around to glance at this woman to ensure she didn’t require emergency care. The 40+-year-old woman appeared to be in fine shape… even if she was seated with her arms crossed, her face red, and a look on her face as though someone had pissed in her cereal.
I wanted to explain to her that covering the song was a sign of respect, but judging by the look on her face, I’m not sure it would’ve registered.
Fortunately for her, the band segued into “A Long December” before the woman’s head exploded.
Her anger was offset by the two young teenagers in front of me. They didn’t seem to give one shit about the Taylor Swift cover.
This boy and girl knew every song the Counting Crows played. The girl even screamed at “Mr. Jones” and “Round Here.” I’ve never heard a girl scream in my years of seeing shows. I probably have, but maybe it just didn’t register.
Anyway, she screamed, and it was delightful. It was certainly a more welcomed sound than the woman behind me kvetching about the band’s cover of “The 1.”
The two young kids danced like no one was watching and sang like no one was listening. It was quite a sight because I imagine their parents probably weren’t alive when the Counting Crows were at their peak. These two even kept their phones down (except during “Mr. Jones” when they recorded themselves singing) and a few random snaps. The 50+-year-old woman next to me used her phone more.
I only found out about her demo because her wiry boyfriend decided he wanted to talk with me… and I learned way more about them than I needed to. Enough to find out their ages and that this guy was a “pluralizer” (one who pluralizes words that shouldn’t be). He mentioned that they just saw Hootie and the Blowfish at Fenway Park: “Man, that Darius Ruckers…”
Watching these two young’uns go ballistic over songs like “Big Yellow Taxi” (to which they faithfully sang every lyric) and “Rain King” could not have made me happier. Dare I say, I may have even shed a tear or two. Really.
From what I witnessed last night, the kids are alright; it’s the older folks I’m worried about.