Lucky to Have the Black Crowes
Twelve years ago, when the feuding Chris and Rich Robinson first hit it big with an Otis Redding cover, the world was just recovering from the overload of spandex and hairspray that had taken over rock music. The Black Crowes, juking and jiving with Southern sincerity, were a welcome sight among the "produced to paper-thin" power ballads. With the Crowes, the grit of 70s cowboy rock and the fine grime of old-school blues had remained thankfully intact, making their debut Shake Your Money Maker a big success.
Despite the fact that Seattle won the battle for the airwaves, the Black Crowes managed to sneak in the back door and stay, maintaining, throughout the 90s, a nearly indestructible reputation as good old (bad) boys. Escaping the death of guitar rock while simultaneously keeping clear of the grunge/sludge explosion, the band put out two mildly successful follow-up albums, The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion and Amorica, which, while not as popular as Money Maker, nevertheless helped hold the Black Crowes' place near the front of the line.
Still intact, despite the drug, alcohol and sibling abuse that have run rampant since the band's inception, the Black Crowes have switched labels but not gears for Lions, a straight-up and solid piece of the old school. Produced by Don Was at a former Yiddish musical theater on the Lower East Side, the album has the gorgeous, full sound of the early 70s, when you could hear the notes bumping off the walls of the studio. The endearing thing about the Black Crowes is that they have always known their innate limitations and they rarely stray from the beaten path. Lions is no exception. There's no great growth or experimentation on it, but none is needed.
Looking for dreamy stoner grooves with a touch of the Stones' whiteboy blues? Lions has got it. Looking for endearingly schmaltzy love ballads? Lions has that too. It seems marriage to Kate Hudson has put an ache in Chris Robinson's heart that is good for business?every self-respecting rocker should acquire a barely legal starlet/muse/wifey to get the creative juices flowing. The boy is positively lovesick and his joy and panic show.
The album kicks off with a full-on epic, "Midnight from the Inside Out," which raises the bar high. The second and third tracks, "Lickin'" and "Come On," keep up the ass-kickin' pace. "No Use Lying" sounds remarkably like an early Soundgarden track, but somehow this isn't a bad thing.
Lions' overall exuberance is epitomized in "Soul Singing," a raucous track that climaxes with the rousing proclamation, "I'm a soul singer! I'm a soul singer!" The album maintains this mood of cheerful self-determination throughout, even when the band is feeling down and blue. Lions continues with the stripped-down roll and sway of "Losing My Mind," which starts off solid, then dissolves into a ballad to schizophrenic love, matching the lyrics, "I love you/I hate you" in a strangely uncatchy chorus. This is followed by the middle-of-the-road funk of the ridiculously titled "Ozone Mama," but the Crowes regain their feet soon after. With the flawless bluesy strut of "Greasy Grass River," the album gains speed again. Then there's the beautiful "Miracle to Me," where they pull out the sapless sincerity they do so well. On "Cypress Tree" they take a cue from Zeppelin, and on the final track, "Lay It All on Me," they come up with a crystalline masterpiece. "It's okay to cry, troubled man, rest a while?" croons Robinson.
Lions is a breath of old air that tastes fresh again. There aren't many bands making music like this nowadays, a real shame. There's always a place for earthy, earnest rock 'n' roll, and we're lucky to have the brothers from Georgia to take over a throne no one else seems to want.