…a pound of feathers is large enough to fill a large cushion or pillow.
It’s also the real resurgence of The Black Crowes.
If ‘Happiness Bastards’ hinted at a return to the Robinson brothers soulful deep southern fried rock and roll chemistry then ‘A Pound of Feathers’ just feels like an album whether that initial thrust has been noted but the boots are now well worn, feel more comfortable and as a result this one just shines brighter, feels tighter and hits more home runs than its worthy predecessor.
From the opening careering rock and roll riff of ‘Profane Prophecy’ you can feel the Stoney energy and a Southern twang but also a rich vein of garage rock, and when Chris’ voice hits it’s stride and those backing vocals shine through and the riffing settles it’s clear that The Black Crowes is back with a real bang, that harnesses all the energy and abandon of the Robinson brothers of past decades. It’s the sort of song you don’t want to end. The sort of song that makes you wonder what comes next whilst contemplating the beautifully placed slide in amongst the crunch of power chords.
‘Cruel Streak’ pushes into a riff that feels more ‘Amorica’ that ‘Moneymaker’ – the groove is undeniable and you can feel the movement in the room. It’s impossible to escape this one because once it locks in, all swagger and swing, it’s dragging you along with it whether you like it or not.
The Black Crowes were always a band that dropped the needle on a slow number beautifully and ‘Pharmacy Chronicles’ harkens to those glorious ballads that permeated their earlier work but with a world weary lyric that shows the passing of years. The solo is sublime and Chris is at his most compelling and persuasive with his lyric that bemoans the consequences of rock and roll excess.
‘Do the Parasite!’ is all about the guitar and vocals, with Rich Robinson clearly having fun riffing away as Chris Robinson paints the picture across his lyrics and delivery, dripping with that loose-limbed, Stonesy swagger. There’s a real gritty feel here too – not polished, not overwrought – just that barroom stomp where the guitar snarls, the vocal struts, and the whole thing feels like it could fall apart at any second but never quite does. It’s that beautifully ragged edge the band have always thrived on, where attitude carries you along in a wave and the groove does the real heavy lifting.
‘High & Lonesome’ is a complete contrast and a real gem. There’s a certain jauntiness in orchestration offset with a mournful lyric, underpinned by some wonderfully accented fiddle (I feel fiddle more than violin) and the crash of guitar that splits the song two and a half minutes in and teh almost spoken word final vocal give it a psychedelic edge. It’s a beautiful construction that set alongside the short soulful blues-tinged country acoustic ‘Queen of the B-Sides’ feels like the real heart of this 70’s styled rocker of a record.
‘Is it Like That’ is a driving 70’s styled Rocker that makes you feel those feelings you do when you spin Faces or The Rolling Stones. It just hits those nails on the head with no nonsense, meat and potatoes riffs and Chris at his strutting best. It’s one to frame, right up there with their classics, and of course those trademark backing vocals just elevate it all.
‘Blood Red Regrets’ has a real feel of the Jimmy Page and The Crowes era, a wonderful stuttering riff, great orchestration, all held together with beautifully paced guitar and sublime drums and Chris spits out the lyrics. It’s another that hits the spot with a wonderful weave of light and shade.
‘You Call This a Good Time’ adds a Stonsey fix, and I love the descent to the sparse, dirge of ‘Eros Blues’, A Black Crowes album is like being invited to a party where the invitees are all wonderfully different, some instantly beguiling, some completely straight forward but others harder to strike up a conversation with but so rewarding when you do. This is a record that gets better as the party wears on. And when you have circled the room a few times it feels like the best party you’ve been to in quite some time.
And just before you leave for the night comes the real highlight: ‘Doomsday Doggerel’ sounds like what the Black Crowes might sound like if they’d been from Birmingham UK rather than Atlanta Georgia, it’s a song grand enough to have been conceived by Zeppelin and sounds absolutely huge. There’s something gloriously unhinged about the song that makes it feel like a late-night broadcast when everyone thinks the tapes are off. The Black Crowes have never exactly been strangers to excess, but here they lean into it with a ragged, in your face, almost dream-like looseness that harks back to the swampy sprawl of Amorica.
‘Doomsday Doggerel’ thrives in its imperfections – the songs stretches out and the groove broadens to fit it. The band sounds like they’re chasing something just out of reach but so, so close at hand. Then when it clicks, it’s mesmerizing; and when it drifts, it still has you on the hook. Rich Robinson is in his element here, favouring feel over finesse, while Chris Robinson prowls through the songs like a preacher who’s seen too much and has a side-line in snake-oil sales, equal parts evangelist, instigator and carnival king.
There’s a deliberate lack of polish here, and that I love, and whilst some may long for clean hooks and tight structures this ragged glory is so hard to capture and few do it as well as The Black Crowes.
Lyrically, the album is a triumph, part gritty recollection, part surrealism, with a dash of street poetry, and half-muttered observations that feel ragged and uncertain, open to interpretation There’s humour too, but it’s world-weary, lines that make you smile. What really carries the record, though, is the groove. This is music you feel as much as hear. It’s music that moves you physically – those guitars are gold, those thick treacly rolling rhythms pull you in deep and keep you there. This is record that won’t let you go.
In a world of overproduced rock records, this feels essential, this feels like real Rock and Roll.
9.5 / 10
