Counting Crows
Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre, 23rd and 24th March 2026
Reviewed by Jeremy Elwood; photos by Steve McCabe
There’s a quote in the Counting Crows documentary Have You Seen Me Lately? (streaming on Neon) referring to the backlash they experienced after the stratospheric success of their debut album August and Everything After, that at the band’s shows “You want them to play the hits, exactly as they are, exactly as you love them. And Adam Duritz does not do that.” For me, that’s what I love most about a live concert, and it’s something Duritz has always brought to the best Counting Crows gigs I’ve seen, of which these two nights in Auckland rate near the top.
(Yes, I went to both nights. They played significantly different setlists, so this review will focus mainly on Tuesday’s show.)
It’s clear from the start that this is a different version of Adam Duritz. The dreadlocks, angst and intensity are gone. He’s a much happier man, locked in with his bandmates, and talking to the audience far more than I’ve seen in the past. He’s been in NZ for a week doing a mix of publicity and relaxation, is happily married, and has a new album out – whatever the reason, he is a far cry from the tortured, introspective figure he has cut in the past, and as a result the performance lacks some of the razors-edge danger I’ve witnessed before, replacing it with what must be a much healthier sense of musical engagement, playfulness and contentment. Oh, and he’s very funny. Who knew?
That new studio album, their eighth – Butter Miracle, The Complete Sweets! – features prominently in these shows, but a thematic continuity means the new songs slide seamlessly in alongside the earlier work. With Love from A to Z is introduced as a love letter to his wife, and a roadmap to everything he holds dear, whilst Spaceman in Tulsa is a retrospective self-owning of Duritz himself in the wake of the song that sent them into orbit in the first place, which they waste no time in getting to – Mr Jones opens the show.
Duritz performs that song, and others, as short stories, acting out the conversation and letting the crowd fill in the melody in a way that feels co-conspiratorial, rather than just an excuse for a singalong. It’s more spoken word than singing, but as an artistic choice, as the rest of the gig proves his voice is as strong as ever. It’s what Duritz does so well, re-interpreting his own work as vignettes and giving the lyrics more fealty than the vocal melody. It can occasionally be frustrating, but far more often it’s riveting, something that can only be done in a live setting. If you only want the original, stay home and stream it.
Melody certainly shows up, particularly on a run of acoustic gems mid-set. Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi plays out like a pub jam session, whilst Angels of The Silences gains new complexity when stripped of its electric (guitar) blanket.
Rain King is that rare beast – an underwhelming single that has become a rousing live standout. A solo piano cover of Taylor Swift mercifully medleys into A Long December, and Cover Up The Sun is a personal favourite deeper cut.
And then there’s Round Here.
This has long been, by their own admission, the defining Counting Crows song, and also a highlight of their live shows.
The first time I saw them play it, it was both breathtaking and deeply troubling. The intensity with which Duritz plumbed the depths of that song left me genuinely convinced he wouldn’t be performing live for too much longer, for any one of a number of increasingly bad reasons.
He still gives the song’s tale of insanity and loss his total dedication, but rather than living (or re-living) the deepest emotions of it, he’s like a consummate actor – able to inhabit the role for the duration of the performance, but then take it off and return to the room in one piece.
As the aforementioned documentary makes clear, Counting Crows is, and always has been, Duritz’s band – he retains creative control, and can often be seen literally conducting the changes onstage. But it takes a truly remarkable chemistry from his bandmates to make that possible, never mind sustainable for 30-plus years. Guitarist David Bryson and Charlie Gillingham (keyboards and accordion) have been there since the very beginning. Dan Vickrey (guitar) joined in 1994, and David Immerglück played various stringed instruments on their albums from 1993, before officially becoming a member in 1999. The “new guys” are bassist Millard Powers and drummer Jim Bogios, who both joined early this century. They produce a distinct live sound moored somewhere between folk, country and rock, and between swapping instruments and several shared in-joke laughs they genuinely look like they’re having a blast. I’ve seen them play various venues, from Spark Arena to an outdoor stage at the San Francisco Americas Cup Village, and theatres are without doubt their natural environment. Duritz is a storyteller, and having the option to sit, watch and properly listen to how the band soundtrack his internal scripts is wonderful.
If Monday felt like a happy reunion, Tuesday felt like a band in full control. Duritz and his cohorts do things entirely their way, and the result is a joyous ride through songs new and familiar. If you ever wanted proof that artists can shake off their inner turmoil and still create something special, Adam Duritz is living it on this tour.
