2024’s Happiness Bastards wasn’t so much a return to form for the Black Crowes as a resurrection. It was their first album of new, original material since 2009. Now, merely two years later we get A Pound Of Feathers. Barely time to work up a thirst. But that’s not to say the new album isn’t welcome. Their groove laden rock is always a tonic to the ears.
It’s a rare review of one of their albums that isn’t bordered by references to their influences. The effect can be to paint them as little more than clever retread merchants. That reductionist approach isn’t fair on the band or their listeners. Especially now, the Black Crowes are maybe freer to plough their own furrow than the band they are most often said to ape, the Rolling Stones. The Stones are unlikely to crunch as hard as the Crowes do on raucous opener Prophane Prophecy, simply because they are the Rolling Stones. It’s not what they do.
Crunch is something this album doesn’t lack. Cruel Streak closes the opening brace of rockers adding more swing. Some bands would be content to carry the barrage on further but Chris and Rich Robinson know to leaven things with a variety of textures and tones. As with next track Pharmacy Chronicles’ lighter acoustic and slide guitar driven sway.
The album as whole has a myriad of guitar tones ranging from distortion, fuzzed and heavy enough to tattle your fillings, to acoustic strains as bright and clear as stars on a crisp Georgia night. Kudos to producer Jay Joyce and all those behind the faders for letting such multi-layered music burst out the speakers without it sounding in any way muddy. It’s a modern production but without the fatigue factor they can often have.
Which is good because the album demands attention. A dance called the Parasite may not make it onto Strictly but Do The Parasite! will have you looking for the steps. The feather light filling in the rock sandwich comes from two outstanding acoustic tracks in the middle of the album. High And Lonesome features some fiddle playing that, while not quite as abandoned as Scarlet Rivera’s, definitely lends a witchy quality to proceedings. Rich Robinson’s guitar solo on the track exemplifies his approach across the album. His solos are melodic, emotional and, hardest to pull off, they leave you wanting more. In a wee sequencing triumph, High and Lonesome slips effortlessly into the equally sublime, Queen Of The B Sides.
In an album of highlights, it’s hard to pick favourites but Blood Red Regrets deserves repeat plays with its atmospheric use of Mellotron. Have we been saved the best till last though? Well just maybe. Closers Eros Blues and Doomsday Doggerel are suitably apocalyptic, working in changes of pace, from the rocking to the reflective. There’s what may be a church organ, echo to drown in and a drum sound that should really be
the soundtrack to levees breaking. Marvellous.
A word before we go about Chris Robinson’s lyrics. There are so many phrases in here that would make brilliant band, album or song names. some of them say more in a couple of words than some writers manage
across entire LPs. Just one, “self destruction redeemed” might just be the Black Cowes motto just now.
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Mike Bruce | Now Spinning Magazine
