Back in 1990 as hair metal was dying and “grunge” was bubbling up, The Black Crowes released Shake Your Moneymaker, a rootsy album that recalled the fervent energy of the early Rolling Stones and The Faces. That album managed to sound simultaneously fresh and classic. Young Chris Robinson’s voice already sounded strong, raspy, and weathered and he performed with the brash swagger of a seasoned rock star; it made them instant stars.
Their follow-up, Southern Harmony and Musical Companion showed marked improvement in songwriting sensitivity, scope, and skill and was an even bigger smash. But for my money, album three, Amorica, is their highwater mark. The album has gorgeous vulnerable acoustic quiet moments and flat-out rockers, Latin influences, tinges of psychedelia, and muted funk; it’s just about perfect. Not many bands have ever had a hat trick like that; unfortunately, the intermittent years were filled with brotherly animus, band breakups, and reformations…it’s a miracle they’ve survived; forget the Gallagher brothers’ momentary reconciliation and rejoice that the Robinson kin has patched things up enough to not only make a dynamite new album (Happiness Bastards), but mount a full on tour to support it. It may be their best work yet, their strongest album in thirty years.
The new album is a juggernaut, hurtling along on the same tracks as The Stones’ Exile on Main Street or The Faces’ A Nod Is as Good as a Wink…to a Blind Horse. I was eager to see how they’d interpret it live and what tracks they would highlight out of their deep catalog. Luckily, rains and wind calmed down enough to make it through the evening.
Openers Fortune Child (from Florida) joked, “We apologize for bringing the hurricane with us” as they dug into a long opening set of swampy rock that recalled Black Sabbath, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and even Soundgarden or Hendrix. They’re a tight three-piece and a solid choice for opener. Keep an eye on them.
As AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)” played over the PA, the Crowes took to the damp stage and set up under the wary eye of a Chuck Berry standee. With a nod of his dapper hat, Chris Robinson raised his hand and the band tore into the rat-a-tat machine gun delivery of “Rats and Clowns.” It’s one of the strongest songs on the new album and the band ripped into it as Robinson delivered lyric fragments in one frantic continuous stream:
“Push a needle, sew a seam, shooting with the zip gun queen
Living like a real antique, thinking that you're so unique
Doubting Thomas eats his words, now he's seen the other world
Come on, baby, take a ride, I dug a hole, now jump inside!”
“Dirty Cold Sun “ratcheted up the energy as two female background singers shimmied in long white shirts and Robinson sneered in elliptical Dylanesque verses:
“Well, I thought I saw the butcher straightening the sheets
When I noticed you had blood streaked across your cheek
You thought you heard me crying but it ain't what it seems
I was walking out your red room, laughing up my sleeve”
At times I could imagine Mick Jagger’s English sneer overlaid with Chris Robinson’s Atlanta rasp; it sounded like a great lost Stones song, but fresher and riskier than that band can attempt these days.
As excellent as the new album is, The Crowes have to honor their long history and old-time fans. “Twice as Hard” was raucous and Amorica’s closing track “Descending” was mounted as a lovely heartbreaking piano ballad.
While the rain and gloom literally dampened the atmosphere, the band’s energy and Chris Robinson’s electric- preacher -delivery made a muddy field feel like a church revival.
As dynamic as the Robinson brothers are, the whole band deserves credit for gorgeously interpreting a variety of eras of the back catalog. The rhythm section was particularly impressive and kept a solid grove that held the evening together. At times Chris took to harmonica and after a long session on “Bleed it Dry” he exited and left the stage in the capable hands of his brother Rich who gave him an opportunity to perform a beautiful acoustic version of The Rolling Stones’ “You’ve got the Silver” accented by church organ. Chris reentered and smiled and said, “That was delightful!” as the band kicked into the scorcher “Wanting and Waiting” from Happiness Bastards (Chris- “If this was released in 1998, it would have been called Miserable Bastards. But that’s just me”)
Chris laughed and said, “That’s the rock and roll music all the kids are talking about!”
I’d put him on the short list of top rock frontmen today; he’s got it all – the voice, charisma, dance moves. It’s a joy to watch him dance, strut, and twirl his mic stand (how nobody got hit is a mystery). You can tell he loves what he does and has an unabashed joy of music.
Kids with guitars, that’s what this is all about! It’s a rare joy to see musicians at this level not afraid to admit they love what they’re doing.
He’s also humble as he prefaces a painful, raw “Thorn in My Pride” with “Sometimes you dream a song and sometimes the song dreams you.” Otis Redding’s “Hard to Handle” makes an obligatory appearance with Chris gently chiding, “Even you don’t know Otis Redding, you know this song” and thanking the crowd for singing, claiming nobody in Cleveland the other night knew the lyrics.
They are playing without a setlist on this tour (another rarity). Usually, a band will figure out a setlist and stick to it; it’s easier for rehearsal, staging, and lighting. But they are having fun dropping in covers and unusual tracks. They kicked into the oddball disco/Daft Punkish “I Ain’t Hiding," joking they were going to turn the muddy field into a roller rink. When that oddity ended Chris announced, “If we were at the roller rink, this next one would be a couple skate only” as they did a beautiful “She Talks to Angels.” After a few more classics (“Jealous Again” and “Remedy” where both the brothers sang into one mic), they wrapped up the main set.
When they reentered, Chris said, “It was our pleasure to bring you some pleasure," and said they wanted to close out with a cover by the late Lou Reed. The band tore into a blistering version of Velvet Underground’s “White Light/White Heat”, stripping all the varnish and honkytonk piano off the original and cranking it up to almost hardcore levels. Pure joy. Yeah. Just…yeah.
The show ended with hugs all around as a visibly pleased Chris waved, smiled, and said, “Until we dance again.”
And that, kids, is how it’s done.
