Nothing Like Old Crowes

From the desk of Peter Crowley:

I heard a new Black Crowes single Aug. 6 on NPR’s World Café. It’s disco. No kidding. It’s not bad, but not good, either – at least not for them. It would be good if the disco exploded into greasy supernova rock ’n’ roll mid-song, but it doesn’t. Is this supposed to be their “Emotional Rescue” period or something? (I hate to refer to the old Stones comparisons that once dogged them, but this song begs it.) If so, it’s no “Send It to Me.”

The new album, to be released Sept. 1, is called “Before the Frost,” and anyone who buys it will be given a code to download (for free) a second new album, “Until the Freeze.” Both were recorded at Levon Helm’s studio in Woodstock, N.Y. in front of a small audience, which sounds cool, or at least a very interesting dynamic for a studio album. You’d think even serious fans wouldn’t be able to sit through the tedium of recording. It’s even more interesting for the Crowes, who used to record albums under clouds of paranoid, sometimes brawling craziness that any other band wouldn’t really want many people to witness. Consider this lead to Vic Garbarini’s brilliant cover story in the September 1992 issue of Guitar for the Practicing Musician magazine:

“Marc Ford’s first day as a Black Crowe got off to a flying start. The former guitarist for Burning Tree arrived early at Chris and Rich Robinson’s Atlanta garage to begin rehearsal for what would become ‘The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion,’ the Crowes’ eagerly awaited followup to their multiplatinum debut. The first surprise was that the Robinson brothers had completely rewritten the album they’d sketched out for Ford at the audition a couple of weeks before. The second came when as they began working on a new song called ‘Sting Me.’ They began the song as a slow ballad, then revved it up to a full tilt rocker. Which was better? Lead singer Chris Robinson began arguing with his younger brother Rich; suddenly Chris’ mike stand was arcing through space – directly at Rich. ‘It hit him right in the head,’ recalls a still amazed Ford. ‘So Rich threw his guitar down, lunged across the room, and grabbed Chris by the shoulders, throwing him up against the wall. Glass, candles and books went flying everywhere.’”

The article (I wish you luck in procuring a copy; again, it’s really good) goes on to say that the brothers Robinson were hugging and forgiving each other 30 minutes after this skirmish and that an actual brawl between them was a rarity, although it tended to make good copy. Garbarini also writes that when rehearsals turned into recording for “Southern Harmony,” they banged out every track in one or two takes. The result is arguably the most passionate rock album ever - easily one of my top five.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Black Crowes again, which I do in phases. Ned and I have been e-mailing back and forth about them, me gushing about their best, most fiery work and him pointing out what a mess they became later on. All true. Here’s our exchange:

Me on Aug. 5:

… By the way, I find myself this week listening once again, in heavy rotation, to the Black Crowes' "Tall." I still say you were missing out on some of the best, most passionate rock music in the universe by saying you can't get into the Crowes anymore - and by not giving that CD more of a chance.

Weirdly, perhaps, I've analyzed it a lot. I could say love of the Crowes is at least partly a Southern thing, the same as love of Springsteen is partly a New-York-City-region-ring-of-fire thing, but geography doesn't cut it alone. First of all, it's not about being from a place so much as being able to GET something of the place's spirit from listening to music. But also, while the South looms fairly large in the Crowes' world, it plays nowhere near as big a role as it does in, say, the Truckers or Skynyrd.

More than geography, I think it's a chip-on-shoulder thing. I'm more defensive than you are, and there is nothing - NOTHNG - like the Crowes' mix of furious, defiant independence and bare-faced hope for deliverance.

"I've got nothing up my sleeve, 'cept this heart and a chip on my shoulder," Chris sings on "Sting Me," the lead song on an album that is definitely on my top 5 best in rock. "You see I'm younger, but I'm getting older."

"Can you sting me right down to my bones?"

It still stings me to hear Chris confessing like a man possessed and Rich compressing everything internally into a dark, raging crunch - and especially when Marc Ford was around to play lead that complemented that maelstrom. Goddamn good shit. You should give "Southern Harmony" another listen.

-Pete

 

Ned on Aug. 6:

A couple things: First, I think you should re-package these thoughts just a bit and post them on the $10 site. Second, my memory of "Tall" isn't sharp enough to really get into it here with you. That means you're right, I should give it another spin.

"Southern Harmony" is one of the great albums to have been released in our musically aware years. Start to finish, it's phenomenal. Has anyone, ever, come up with a guitar tone as rich and full as what Marc Ford comes up with for the solo in "Sometimes Salvation"? For that matter, that whole record should be a study in electric guitar tones.

After that, though, I stopped really caring about what they did. Why? "Amorica" has "Wiser Time" and "Cursed Diamond," which has the line, "Baby, unzip my pride." Points for that. And points for the original, pube-o-philic album cover, too. The next record has good stuff as well. But somewhere along the way I tired of Chris' voice. Not just the sound of it, but his phrasing, his approach, his accent, everything. What I once heard as energized, excited and desperate (good desperate), I began hearing as grating, whining and pestering. I'm a guy who loves Springsteen's and Dylan's singing, and yet I found myself thinking Chris had a scratchy voice with no range. Crazy, I know, but... And the lyrics started getting ridiculous. Not Lenny Kravitz bad, but pretty bad. "Ozone Mama" from Lions? That song's lousy.

Rich is a great guitar man and arranger, but by the time "By Your Side" rolled around, it seemed to me he was just doing the same old thing. He, and the band, weren't evolving. What were they singing about? What were they playing for? What was at stake? Bands that endure have to be able to answer those questions, right? Easier said than done, but that's why enduring bands are rare. (And I'm not counting bands like Little Feat, which hasn't done anything interesting since Lowell George kicked it. They're just cruising along, which is a different, lamer way to endure.) Maybe with this newer stuff, the Crowes have found a way to articulate their reasons for playing. As I say, I haven't spent enough time with the stuff to really know. Or maybe they're just a really good lil' rock and roll band. Better than a bar band, for sure, but not exactly world-dominating stars, as they were for a moment in the early/mid-nineties. Perhaps if they accept that, and play like the best goddam lil' rock and roll band the world ever saw, they'd find a stronger voice. Maybe the problem's with me and not them. Could be. I wish they'd settle on a lineup, though. Do you listen to "Warpaint" a lot? How's it wearing in?

-Ned

 

Me on Aug. 6:

I actually agree with you on pretty much everything here. No, I don't listen to "Warpaint" anymore, although I should. I like it because it's going back in the right direction, but I don't love it, partly because Luther Dickinson's playing is really pretty unmemorable, and while some of the songs are pretty good, none of them is that memorable either. Sure, he's the new guy, but Marc Ford had never played with them at all before he recorded "Southern Harmony" with them, and you're right about his "Sometimes Salvation" solo - it's a rocket to Valhalla.

But I'll send you a CD with mp3s of "Tall," which would have come out in 1993, and the less-good but still good "Band," a shelved album from 1997. You especially need to hear "Tall" again. Especially if you like "Wiser Time."

 

Ned on Aug. 10:

… the Black Crowes are recording an album at Levon's barn/studio in Woodstock. Larry Campbell's going to sit in, playing fiddle, banjo and mandolin, and they're going to record the whole thing live. This could be where I start to get back into the Crowes.

 

I can only respond to that optimism with a flat, “We’ll see.” I believe the Crowes are much, much better than the li’l old rock ‘n’ roll band Ned describes – I base that largely on seeing an absolutely galvanizing show by them in 2005 in Burlington, Vt., under a different name (Mr. Crowe’s Garden, their Atlanta-days handle before the current one), with Marc Ford back, Chris being humble and everyone taking eye-contact cues from Rich. That show proved they could rage, but not that they knew where they were going other than getting back together after a long hiatus. “Warpaint” didn’t show that, either, really. Time will tell …

 

(The podcast on this post is “Sometimes Salvation, so you can hear the guitar solo that Ned and I are in awe of. The photo is the Crowes’ 1992 appearance on the cover of the now-defunct Guitar for the Practicing Musician magazine. Gotta love the context.)