Adam Duritz: Counting Woes

Adam Duritz is apparently one mixed-up rock star. The Counting Crows singer and pianist bared his many emotional scars to a near-capacity crowd of thousands at Irvine Meadows on Saturday night. But there was something unconvincing about it all.

The band’s primarily downbeat material--taken largely from its most recent album, “Recovering the Satellites”--lacked depth and illuminating detail and made for a dull, one-dimensional concert.

In song after song, Duritz sang about his confusion, his self-doubt, his anguish and loneliness. But the idea of sharing experiences in any meaningful way took a back seat to self-absorption and, at times, self-loathing. Instead of allowing insightful gazes into a troubled soul, the lyrics were frustratingly vague, ill-defined and underdeveloped (“If you wrap yourself in daffodils, I will wrap myself in pain”). Such subpar songwriting--not to mention the generic melodies--simply didn’t give listeners enough reason to care.

“Goodnight Elisabeth,” “I’m Not Sleeping,” “Children in Bloom,” “Ghost Train,” the plodding “Anna Begins” and numerous other downers amounted to a lot of whining. Duritz is one of the few who can make Jackson Browne and Morrissey seem cheery by comparison.

About the only time he made an emotional connection was during “Monkey,” when he sang, “I’m all messed up/That’s nothing new.” And even then he didn’t offer clues as to why.

His stage presence itself was problematic. Lying on his back or flailing his arms, he seemed to mistake motion for emotion. Quiet and distant between selections, he didn’t even talk to the crowd until about 45 minutes into the set (“I keep forgetting to say something. Hi.”). Then, twice, he left rambling thoughts unfinished, merely shrugging and starting into the next number.

Musically, the Crows made a lot of noise but rarely took off. Except for a couple of selections--the rootsy, rarely played “Omaha” and the invigorating, emotionally-driven “Murder of One”--the sextet played rather anonymously, alternating between derivative classic rock textures and some very slow-moving, uninvolving balladry.

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While the headliners failed to expand their palette, opening act Ben Folds Five shunned musical boundaries throughout its impressive, 45-minute set. The trio mixed pop smarts, on-the-mark harmonies and improvisational jazz flights into an intoxicating and seemingly unique sound.

With influences ranging from Todd Rundgren to Burt Bacharach to Frank Zappa, this pianist, bassist and drummer from North Carolina wreaked playful havoc with upbeat, melodic pop tunes (“Battle of Who Could Care Less,” “One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces” and “Song for the Dumped” were standouts) and even a big band-type swing piece (“Steven’s Last Night in Town”).

Leader Ben Folds is an engaging performer whose sallies on the baby grand were dazzling, and as a songwriter he has provided wonderfully image- and detail-rich character sketches about everyday people caught up in awkward, sometimes compromising situations.