It seems weird to spend as much time talking about a two-minute moment on the DVD where Adamn Duritz talks to the audience about one of the songs from August rather than the song itself but it reminds me of a dream I had.

I had the pleasure of talking to him about the masterful Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings record and many other topics (Part 1 and Part 2) and he couldn't have been more gracious for the hour we spent talking about that album, his music, and his personal struggles. I've replayed that conversation in my head over and over since then and I've dreamed of subsequent conversations between the two of us where I asked the questions I couldn't think of at the time because of fanboy nerves and a mind that can't focus for more than about two seconds at a time. One of those conversations is about the song "Perfect Blue Buildings," which works perfectly because Duritz pauses to talk about it for a few brief minutes before performing it on Town Hall.

I like to think of myself as a thinker and an independent one at that immune to group think but it's not true- not entirely. When August hit, I gravitated to the singles "Mr. Jones" and "Round Here." I don't apologize for that because they're both fucking great songs ("Round Here" in particular).For years, those were the songs I adored and my love for the record was built on that foundation. Over a period of years of repeated listens, I "discovered" the gem that is "Perfect Blue Buildings," and that's where the dream begins...

I imagine telling him what an amazing song it is while I never disliked it, I didn't "get" it at first but I get it now and it means more to me today than it did when I first bought August.

Having witnessed his graciousness with fans firsthand, I hear him being pleasant, polite and saying "Thank you" or "That's great" or something along those lines. He pauses for a moment. Maybe he's waiting for me to ask him for an autograph or to ask him some other question. He waits a few more moments before asking me why, or what about the song resonates with me.

I stare at my shoe. I glance at my left wrist, looking for a watch I haven't worn in 10 years. I'm not going to cry but I feel my eyes burn. I take a deep breath having mustered all the composure I'm likely to and manage to lift my head just enough to see part of his face. I take another breath and reply, "I don't know. It just does."

I wake up before either of us can say anything else...

The songs of Adam Duritz and Counting Crows can't be pigeonholed in one tidy little compartment but there is a theme or a premise that permeates a lot of them; the idea that we all know what it's like to feel a little or a lot broken and we all want to feel normal or better or different. My ideal version of myself is a far cry from the person I am today. Maybe it's because I'm a complete bastard. Maybe it's because my concept of the ideal me is a shitty one. I don't know what it's like to live inside his head and my struggles in this life are my own, but I feel like I hear someone expressing something that feels real and familiar and that's where the connection lives even if I can't explain it.