It's been several years now since I last considered myself a big fan of the Dave Matthews Band. It was around the turn of the century when I unearthed the two DMB albums that I vaguely remembered having been exposed to in college, and quickly got so hooked on those and the albums that followed that I found myself listening to the group's weird hybrid of singer/songwriter, jam band, and faux-jazz sensibilities on a regular basis, even going so far as to drive out to Las Vegas to see them live in 2001. Then came my rather lukewarm reaction to Busted Stuff, an album that has since grown on me a good deal. And then came the point of seemingly no return - 2005's Stand Up, an almost unforgivably scattered album that found a number of old-school DMB fans (much older-school than I could ever claim to be, anyway) pretty much disowning the group. We've heard little in the way of new studio recordings from them then - just the usual potpourri of odds and ends recorded live.

Because of this, I had kind of forgotten about Dave Matthews and his cohorts over the past few years until I heard the news last month that saxophonist and founding member LeRoi Moore had died from complications due to injuries received in an ATV accident on his farm. This was very surprising and sad news. And you know how it goes when a musician passes away - there's a part of all of us that wants to remember them for the best things they accomplished. With my last official words on the band, in my review of Stand Up, being somewhat derisive, it seemed like now was a good time to pay my respects to LeRoi by reviewing the album that got me into the DMB in the first place. And as I pulled out my well-worn copy of Crash and gave it the first few spins that it had received in several years, it became obvious that this was the state in which the band's original lineup should be best remembered. Front to back, it's the most consistent piece of work that the band will likely ever record. And LeRoi's a bigger part of this album's success than I had perhaps originally given him credit for.

Crash was released in 1996, at a point in the band's career where they seemed to be just getting started on the momentum of an extremely successful career, managing to pull off the tricky balancing act between palatable pop sensibilities and open-ended "jam band" aesthetics - they might seem a bit too loose and playful and rambling to be regarded as "polished" by today's stringent standards for radio play, but back in the 90's, anything that achieved a catchy tune by way of an "alternative" angle such as a gritty, quirky lead vocalist (check) or an unusual instrument in the band lineup (double check) seemed to be fair game. That would have worked for me at the time if I hadn't been such a prude regarding Matthews' sometimes hedonistic lyrics - the band kind of gained a "frat boy rock" reputation for themselves due to the common themes of alcohol, sex, and livin' it up before you die, and at the time I took some of that stuff as a personal affront. But I remembered the music just from a few casual exposures via my roommate's CD player. All it took was a solitary listen to the frenetic start-stop outro of "Drive In Drive Out" and the song got stuck in my head for years until I finally gave in and sought out the album for my own personal pleasure. My roommate returning to the dorm after a long day of midterms fueled by lots of caffeine and very little sleep mumbling a chorus of "I eat too much! I drink too much!" to himself as a form of self-deprecating humor made sure that another song would be rendered unforgettable. There was just no escaping it. I was just as destined to become a fan of the Dave Matthews Band through all of the incidental exposure that year as I was with No Doubt and the Barenaked Ladies. (Said roommate actually left his Crash CD in the player the morning before he got into a rather heinous car accident. I later pointed out the bad omen to him, and his response a few days later was to draw my attention to the fact that he was listening to the Barenaked Ladies' Maybe You Should Drive.)

What's awesome about Crash is that it's more than just a product of its time. It plays just as well 12 years later, and songs that I once dismissed as superficial have gained a bit of extra weight in light of LeRoi's death. Much of it seems to play as a fitting eulogy now, an exhortation to make the most out of life and to remember that we never know how much time we've got left. Beneath the hedonism, there's a cautious air of fatalism. Dave's always had a bit of an existential streak to his songwriting - he might phrase things a bit awkwardly and not come across as the most meaningful poet in the world to the band's detractors. But I can see why it's the type of music that might inspire a bit of philosophizing, regardless of whether you feel the need to light up a joint to facilitate the thought process. The most stunning example of the band's fatalism becoming positively inspirational didn't occur until they recorded the song "Bartender" in 2000, which would go on to become a fan favorite in their live shows (definitely a standout musical moment for LeRoi due to the disarming penny whistle solo at the end) and the definite highlight of 2002's Busted Stuff. But little pieces of the wrestling with God show up here. It's worth a closer listen than some of the "frat boy detractors" have really given it.

That said, the primary draw of the Crash and the DMB in general has always been the music, as Dave's tricky acoustic fretwork gets tangled up with Carter Beauford's classy, complicated percussion, the home-fried strains of Boyd Tinsley's violin, and of course, the blurting of LeRoi Moore's sax and flute. (Bassist Stefan Lessard is obviously important as a rhythmic anchor, too, but he's the one guy who doesn't really get a chance to show off here. Sucks to be the bass player, eh?) The variance in song styles is a big draw here - there are classy pop anthems, somewhat misguided (but still compelling) romantic ballads, epic jams that last five minutes or more and provide ample opportunity for soloing, and even the occasional stripped-down, mellow reflection. 12 tracks lasting well over an hour would constitute an overly bloated pop album in most people's minds, but despite all of the confusion about what genre the DMB should be labeled with, that's still how I see Crash - as a boundary-stretching pop album. If you're never taken the plunge with the DMB, then this is pretty much the perfect place to start.

So Much to Say
I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating, and I'm alright...
Who could forget this, perhaps the most addictive album opener in the entire DMB canon? Alright, so perhaps some folks thought it was too close to the similarly-titled "What Would You Say" for comfort, but in my book, this just does that other classic tune one better, by way of Dave's finger-pickin' good acoustic guitar runs, LeRoi's sassy sax riffs, Carter's clattering drums, and one of the best examples of Dave's half-growling, half-squealing vocals running all up and down the scale. It's certainly one of the most fun DMB songs to sing along with, from the cheeky lyrics that marry existential questions about one's own personal heaven and hell (heaven apparently being better insulated) to amusing alliterations like "treading trodden trails". And then there's the ending, where everyone suddenly drops away and leaves Dave to repeat a line from earlier in the song in a cartoonish, drawn-out way: "O-pen - up - my - head - aaaaand -let - me - ou-ou-ooooooooouuuuuut!!!" (Every instrument in the band: Ker-SPLAT!) "Pretty BAY-BAY!!!" Classic.

Two Step
Hey, my love, you came to me
Like wine comes to this mouth
Grown tired of water all the time
You quench my heart and you quench my mind...
You can tell as the album brilliantly segues into the "slowly approaching freight train" sound of this song's intro that it's going to be epic. There's a reason why this one often gets picked as a bring-down-the-house encore for the DMB's live shows - it's one of the most dramatically fatalistic songs that the band's ever written, with Dave's Latin-infused guitar runs, Stefan's tense piano chords, and Boyd's violin plucking, all building up to some sort of weird, grand statement about the end of the world and a proverbial ark that Dave and his lover plan to "climb on two by two, to be sure these days continue". I've gotta hand it to the DMB - Armageddon has never sounded so sexy. (Not that they haven't tried to make it sound more sexy since then - but "When the World Ends" was just plain embarrassing.)

Crash into Me
Oh, I watch you there through the window, and I stare at you
You wear nothing, but you wear it so well...
This is the song that will live in infamy - it's perhaps the band's best known commercial hit, and it's pretty much all about how Dave is a peeping Tom with a major bondage fetish. There's pretty much no explaining your way around the double entendre in this song - that is, when Dave even bothers with entendre at all and isn't just bluntly making requests like, "Hike up your skirt a little more, and show your world to me". (Thanks for summing up all of masculinity in one fell swoop by implying that our entire world revolves around vaginas, Dave.) It's never been one of my personal favorites because I guess I prefer my seductive songs to be a little less boorish than this, but I will say that the music's pretty fascinating, and thoroughly unlikely for a so-called "radio-friendly" song. Sure, it follows a 4/4 rhythm when you really listen to it, but Dave's guitar strumming is just designed to throw you off, with the dominant strokes on 1 and 6 out of every set of eighth notes, and Carter further messing with our heads by emphasizing the 1's and 3's instead of the 2's and 4's. It could spin around in your head for hours before you finally catch on to it... or maybe I just wasn't as musically gifted when I first heard this sucker in college. In any event, it's a brilliant composition with a rather buffoonish lyric to offset the sheer musical talent on display.

Too Much
I told God, I'm coming to your country
I'm going to eat up your cities, your homes, you know
I've got a stomach full, it's not a chip on my shoulder
I've got this growl in my tummy, I'm gonna stop it today...
Here comes growly Dave with a vengeance, on one of the band's more aggressive, indulgent, and yet still highly accessible tracks. He's facing his hedonism head-on here, in an almost fairy-tale like fantasy in which he literally eats and drinks up pretty much all of the resources in the world, never once finding satisfaction. The music here is best described as "fat" - you could spell it with a "ph", too, but I'm just referring to the pure meatiness of it, with Boyd's thick, sizzling slabs of Southern-fried fiddling and LeRoi's low-end, loosen-your-belt-buckle serving of smoky saxophone. You've heard plenty of celebrities bemoaning the curse of having too much stuff, but I'm pretty sure you've never heard this crisis of gluttony expressed with such instrumental glee.

#41
Why won't you ever be glad, it melts into wonder
I came in praying for you
Why won't you run in the rain and play
Let the tears splash all over you...
This song seems to be titled in such a way as to guarantee you might not be able to match a track number to a memorable song on the first pass - it's one of the album's more complex "sleeper hits", and I'd say it's one my underrated favorites, but I've come to realize that it's actually well-loved among DMB fans. It's just that the chorus doesn't roll off of the tongue - Dave's rather esoteric, stream-of-consciousness lyrics kind of slip by under the radar amidst the soulful finesse of his bandmates' performance. The song is delicate and yet it has an infectious momentum to it, with ample space for fiddle and sax solos, and some glorious climactic moments where the band locks together in a tight, slick groove that evokes images of a high-class night out on the town. It takes its sweet time winding down, with the final strains of Boyd's fiddle and Dave's electric guitar bleeding effortlessly into...

Say Goodbye
All we are is wasting hours
Until the sun comes up, it's all ours...
Wow. That is gorgeous. God bless LeRoi Moore! Amidst some rather sunny, Caribbean-style bongo rhythms from Carter, LeRoi unleashes a fiery little flute solo on us, which extends generously into the first few minutes of the song, before the full band joins in for one of the band's most romantic and most salacious ballads. Dave's lyrics evoke a raging tropical rainstorm, a night alone by a warm fireplace in a cabin on some far-flung island, with just two lovers alone, nothing to do but kill time by giving into their hormones. The problem? He knows she's got a man in her life already. And his logic seems to be that nobody will know, and he'll be totally fine letting her go back to her life tomorrow if he can just get his raging desire out of his system tonight. This is where I have to tell myself not to be too much of a prude - hey, one-night stands happen and this certainly is an apt description of what that temptation might feel like when it's staring you right in the face. Moral issues aside, it's just about one of the most beautifully performed songs in pretty much all of existence, so I have to give it high marks for that. I consider it a personal favorite and an essential highlight despite my misgivings, so make of that what you will.

Drive In Drive Out
I hear more than I like to
So I boil my head in a sense of humor
I laugh at what I cannot change
I throw it all on the pyre again...
This is, hands-down, my favorite DMB song of all time. (Well, except for when I'm in a mellow mood and "Crush" tries to sneak up and overtake it.) It's the aforementioned song that first got me into the DMB, due its absolutely relentless rhythm, whirling about in 6/8 time as Dave unleashes all of the fury and migraine headache pain brought on by the world's worst on-again, off-again relationship. "Drive in, drive out, I'm leaving! ... Drive in, drive out, I come back again!" I've never had one of those, but I bet this is a good approximation of the frustration it would generate! Dave's real reason for writing this song was to give Carter something to bang on, and it's an absolutely stellar showcase for one of the world's most talented drummers, as he seemingly finds every metal rod and nut and bolt and other surface of his drum kit to riff on, turning the song into a metallic, clanging beast that only barely holds itself together as it accelerates towards a total meltdown. Boyd and LeRoi get plenty of licks in for good measure, chiming in with a polyrhythmic part that is absolutely confusing as hell in relation to the drum beat until it cycles back around and you glimpse the method to their magic. And then there's the manic, start-stop intro, which fools you about 20 times into thinking the song is over, before they come crashing through again for one more round, finally deciding to end it on a big crash, after which Boyd can be heard in the background, exclaiming in total amazement, "That is bad sh*t!"

Let You Down
I have no lid upon my head, but if I did
You could look inside and see what's on my mind...
I suppose any song was gonna be a letdown after that last one, so maybe this one is aptly titled... but you know what, it's a good song in its own right. It's just a bit mellow, and surprisingly easygoing after all of the intense racket that preceded it. It's got a bit of "coffeehouse" flavor to it, with Dave's muted acoustic guitar skipping along with the kind of groove you'd want to snap your fingers to if you could just figure out how to fit it into a rhythm of 9/8 (with a few changeups in the chorus just to be sure you're paying attention). LeRoi chimes in, with his sax providing a bit of "after hours moon glow", and Dave even whistles a bit just to add to the ambience. He's sort of doing the stream-of-consciousness thing here, basically apologizing to someone who he feels he's colossally disappointed, begging to be taken back because "I'm a puppy for your love". Kind of silly, but also kind of cute. Hey, I'd forgive him.

Lie in Our Graves
When I'm walking by the water
Splish splash me, and you taking a bath
When I'm walking by the water
Come to my toes to my ankles to my head to my soul, I'm blown away...
Here's another track that, in addition to "Two Step" and "#41", is prone to turn into a long, open-ended jam session in concert. Truth be told, this one can get a bit ridiculous, with its rather mellow midsection getting drawn out to ridiculous lengths, but I try not to hold that against the album version, which mirrors "So Much to Say" with its happy-go-lucky acoustic guitar skipping along, joined by the caffeinated rat-a-tat-tat of Carter's drums, and more of Boyd's exuberant fiddling. Not surprisingly, this is another one of those "seize the day" songs, with Dave expressing that he doesn't want to live with regrets and worry about whether he's gonna have to look back on his life when he's a corpse and think, "Well, that was a dumb thing to do." It probably hints at more meaningful things than it actually states explicitly.

Cry Freedom
How can I turn away
Brother, sister, go dancing through my head
Human as to human
The future is no place to place your better days...
For me, this is the one dud on the album. It's the least intricate song, and the band plays it too straight, with the slow, brooding electric guitar reminding me of several lesser songs that would later surface on Everyday. While Dave is pretty much the master of his instrument, he does better when he's either doing his usual nimble-fingered acoustic stuff, or playing electric in more of a jazz-oriented style. When he plays it straight like he's actually in a rock band, it's honestly rather dull. I suppose some degree of reverence is necessary for this rather heavy song about slavery and racism and a basic appeal for us all to see our fellow human beings as exactly that - fellow humans. The issue of apartheid in Dave's country of origin - South Africa - are what inspired this one. I respect the message, even though Dave isn't the greatest at articulating it profoundly. There's some good flute and fiddle playing that adds color to the song later, but for a DMB song, it takes too long to get there and really breaks up the flow of the album.

Tripping Billies
We're wearing nothing, nothing but our shadows
Shadows falling down on the beach sand...
A critic once leveled the accusation that the DMB was really nothing more than a collection of acid-tripping hillbillies - and thus, this song was born. If you've heard "Two Step" and "Lie in Our Graves", then this one isn't going to surprise you all that much with its refrain of "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die", but the veritable hoedown that takes place in this song is given a slightly more somber coloring in the wake of LeRoi's passing. It's a fun jam, and to be fair, it actually preceded the aforementioned songs that I happen to like more than it (first appearing as a live cut on the independent recording Remember Two Things). I can't really say anything bad about it, but I guess it shows up late enough in the album that I don't immediately recall it as one of my favorites.

Proudest Monkey
But then came the day
I climbed out of these safe limbs, ventured away
Walking tall, head high up and singing, I went to the city
Car horns, corners and the gritty...
This epic album closer tends to lose people - I seem to often hear gripes about it when people are otherwise heaping praise upon Crash. I rather like it. Sure, it's over nine minutes long and they repeat the same damn three chords for the entire thing. But I enjoy how they manage to take such a sparse, simple, repeating loop and build so much out of it. Once again, we've got a tricky time signature in play - I believe it's 12/8 this time - and the bare bones of Dave's acoustic guitar becomes the basis for an allegory about a precocious primate who decides he's done with his simple life in the jungle, and packs his bags and heads for the big city. (Hmmm, do you think Dave read Curious George as a kid or something?) The story is really just window dressing for one last awesome jam session that finds the drums going all Speedy Gonzalez (you get all kinds of interesting noises out of Carter in this one) and the saxophone wigging out similarly in the final third - and yet they never stray from the beat and the simplistic chord structure, all the way to the long fadeout that ends the album. It's interesting to contrast this one with the morbid "Big Eyed Fish" that showed up on Busted Stuff a few years later - in this song, the city represents the monkey's freedom, and in that one, it represents his foolhardy demise. Personally, I like this more optimistic tale.

Well, I think I've covered everything about Crash that I've been wanting to say, but hadn't quite found the words, for like the last eight years. I guess waiting until now to review it has given me the chance to give LeRoi Moore a (hopefully) fitting eulogy, and to wax nostalgic over a career high for a band that may never see such widespread success again (though I can always hope). If this hasn't convinced the handful of people who haven't already heard Crash to go check it out, then it's safe to say you probably won't like the DMB in any form, past, present, or future. It's the absolute best place to start if you're new to them, and the absolute best place to end up if you've forgotten how awesome they used to be.

ALBUM WORTH:
So Much to Say $2
Two Step $1.50
Crash into Me $1.50
Too Much $2
#41 $2
Say Goodbye $1.50
Drive In Drive Out $2
Let You Down $1
Lie in Our Graves $1.50
Cry Freedom $.50
Tripping Billies $1
Proudest Monkey $1.50
TOTAL: $18

Band Members:
Dave Matthews: Lead vocals, guitars
LeRoi Moore: Saxophone, flute, penny whistle
Boyd Tinsley: Violin, mandolin, backing vocals
Carter Beauford: Drums, percussion
Stefan Lessard: Bass

Website: http://www.davematthewsband.com

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Driving