Round Here We Stay Up Very, Very Late The Wild Four-Day, Three-Show, 1,200-Mile Adventure of Counterfeiting Crows

Round Here We Stay Up Very, Very Late
The Wild Four-Day, Three-Show, 1,200-Mile Adventure of Counterfeiting Crows

We're not saying we planned to sleep in a van in a gas station parking lot outside of Gary, Indiana. But you don't really plan chaos — it just sort of invites itself into your van, eats all your snacks, and turns your GPS into a liar.

This is the story of Counterfeiting Crows: Rich (piano and keys), Shane (vocals and brooding), Jerry (drums and snacks), Kevin (bass and good vibes), and Edward (guitar and existential dread). A Counting Crows tribute band on a four-day, three-show road trip that was supposed to be mildly adventurous. Instead, it was a sleep-deprived, caffeine-fueled odyssey with a soundtrack of our own making.

Day 1: Chicago or Bust (Mostly Bust)

It started off normal — Rich had coffee, Jerry forgot his sticks (again), and Shane brought three scarves for "aesthetic purposes." We piled into Kevin's van, already packed tighter than a frat house fridge, and hit the road.

Three hours later, we were in traffic somewhere south of Milwaukee because Jerry insisted "this back route is faster." It wasn't. The GPS recalculated seven times. By the time we got to Chicago, the van smelled like energy drinks, pretzels, and tension.

We rolled into the venue with 40 minutes to spare. No time for a hotel — we brushed our teeth in the greenroom sink. But the crowd? Packed. The lights? Perfect. Shane crooned Mr. Jones like he'd written it. Rich nailed every piano solo with the confidence of a caffeinated raccoon.

We loaded out at 1:30am. Nowhere to sleep. So we pulled into a truck stop, reclined the seats, and learned that five adult men in one van overnight is a social experiment no one wins.

Day 2: Cleveland Rocks (and So Does AAA)

Day two began with a flat tire and ended with us shouting at a drive-thru speaker that "no, we don't want ketchup packets, we need some ketchup therapy."

After two hours on hold with roadside assistance (bless you, Carl from AAA), we were back on the road and making up for lost time — which meant we didn't eat until 5pm and ended up at a gas station that sold pizza shaped like triangles but with rounded corners (do with that what you will).

We arrived at the Cleveland venue five minutes before soundcheck. The greenroom had real couches, cold beer, and a fruit platter that made Edward emotional. "I didn't know grapes could look like this," he whispered.

The show? Electric. One of the loudest crowds we've played for. Someone handed Shane a bra with "Long December" written on it. Edward signed his first autograph ever — on someone's bald head. He used eyeliner. No regrets.

Day 3: Buffalo Bound (Barely)

Running on two hours of sleep, we left Cleveland looking like extras from The Walking Dead: Musicians Edition. Shane was slap-happy and spoke only in Counting Crows lyrics. Rich kept playing the same four bars of Round Here on loop until Jerry threatened to throw his keyboard out the window.

We nearly missed our exit. Twice. At one point we drove thirty miles in the wrong direction because Kevin trusted a GPS app that hadn't been updated since 2017. Buffalo welcomed us with open arms and surprisingly good bagels.

The final show felt like a fever dream. The venue was beautiful. People were singing along to every word. The greenroom had catered pasta, actual cloth napkins, and someone brought us a pie. Edward was handed a second autograph request and this time signed a sock. We didn't ask.

The Aftermath

After the Buffalo show, we finally got a proper hotel — and it felt like a five-star resort. Clean sheets. Running water. Silence. Jerry hugged his pillow and whispered "never leave me."

It was a whirlwind. We played three packed shows in three different cities across four days on almost no sleep, too many gas station sandwiches, and the sheer willpower of five guys who love this band — and the band they're paying tribute to — more than anything.

We stayed up late. We got weird. We laughed so hard we cried somewhere in Ohio. And we'd do it all again tomorrow, because this is what it means to live the dream — in a very loud, very crowded van with your best friends, chasing the music and losing your minds in the best possible way.

See you on the next road. Round here…man, we never sleep.

— Counterfeiting Crows