Soma Magazine interview
 
SOMA  September/October 1996

BIRDS OF A FEATHER:  AN INTERVIEW WITH THE BLACK CROWES

by Alex Green


Birds have always done well in rock 'n' roll.  Ever since the '60s,
when The Byrds soared to the top of the charts, flocks of bands with bird
monikers have enjoyed lucrative careers.  The Eagles, Wings, A Flock of
Seagulls.  Things were quiet for a while after that, and it seemed the
string of successful bird-named bands had come to a close.

Bursting out of Atlanta with a colorful plumage that brought to mind a
young, tough Rolling Stones or Aerosmith, came The Black Crowes, a
hard-driving band that captured the attention of critics and fans alike.
Their debut, Shake Your Moneymaker sold millions of copies, they
appeared on countless magazine covers, and even logged in an impressive
Saturday Night Live performance where they played both of their "big"
hits.

With his wiry frame and swervy hips, Crowes frontman Chris Robinson,
backed by his brother Rich on lead guitar, was as much Jagger as he was
Muddy Waters, filling the band's compositions with a soulful edge and
'70s swagger.  With sales skyrocketing, fans swooning and the relentless
attention from the media, it seemed The Black Crowes would be in the spotlight forever.

Forever, however, in the fickle pop world can sometimes be as long as a
previous hit single, and The Black Crowes with three albums under their
belt haven't had a smash since "She Talks To Angels."  In the meantime,
other birds have surfaced:  Counting Crows then Sheryl Crow both sold
millions of discs and won Grammies.  Adding insult to injury, even
The Crow Soundtrack sold more copies than The Black Crowes' last effort,
Amorica, leaving many wondering what had happened to their appeal.  It
seemed the band had flown south for good.

The truth of the matter, though, was that The Black Crowes hadn't really
gone anywhere, and in fact had remained busier than any of their
contemporaries.  They released two more critically acclaimed records
after Moneymaker that, while not as successful as the first, eclipsed
the one million mark.  They also opened for The Grateful Dead and The
Rolling Stones, sold out five nights at the Beacon Theatre in New York,
and headlined a record-breaking H.O.R.D.E. tour.

On the eve of two closely coinciding events, his thirtieth birthday and
the release of Three Snakes And One Charm, Robinson has no trouble
explaining why his band, though boasting one of the most impressive
fan-bases in music today, remains out of the limelight.  "Look at us,"
he says, "We're the same as when we started.  We have never tried to be
anything that we're not.  You don't have to hide or be someone else when
you're telling the truth.  We don't give a shit about style or who's
looking good.  Some things are more important to us than what's on MTV.
I'm not going to shave my hair, dye it blond and pierce my nose just because
the kids on MTV are doing it.  The only different thing about us is
we're older, and we have more gray hair, but we're better musicians, we
worry about the music, not all that childish shit."

Admittedly, having gray hair at thirty doesn't make one an old man, but
Robinson is onto something.  In the context of rock 'n' roll in the
'90s, he is practically a grandfather.  Because bands come and go with
an alarming frequency, musicians like Robinson and his fellow bandmates
who have ten years, four albums and countless road miles to their
credit, are the closest thing around to being grizzled veterans.

Sitting in his Los Angeles home playing old Bob Dylan records,
the lanky Robinson speaks with the wisdom and candor of a man who will not be
seduced or fooled by anything, especially the music business, which he
refers to with open disdain as "the industry."  In light of the enormous
sales of their first album and the spare years that followed, The Black
Crowes have done the seemingly impossible:  they have survived.

"Look," he says, "We're just not that self-involved.  Being a pop star is
really no amazing thing.  People like David Cassidy and the Bangles have
done it, so what's the big deal?"

Robinson likewise abhors videos.  At the mere mention of the word, he
rolls his eyes.  "I just don't really care about them," he says.  "The
thing is, the industry has come to a point where they wouldn't know what
to do without them.  Our attitude has always been that if the idea didn't
insult us, we might consider doing one, but it's the kind of thing we grin
and bear."

What he does like is touring and living a life on the road.  "There's no
other reason to be a musician," he says.  "When Muddy Waters was an old
man, he was still playing shows up to one week before he died.  I could
do this for fifty more years, because there's never been a moment on
stage that I didn't feel great."

Comparisons to the Grateful Dead are inevitable in light of their
dedication, and the resemblance is sometimes uncanny:  Both enjoyed
sudden popularity, both toured relentlessly and both encouraged fans to
bootleg performances--a practice frowned upon by almost every other
band.  "My attitude is if people buy our records, and care enough to
come to our shows, why shouldn't they be able to tape them?  It's cool
for them because we're in a different mood all the time, and we're
always improving and doing spontaneous things, so the show is always
fresh.  Let's face it.  Without the fans, we're just a band.  They're
the ones who add the mystique and the drama."

Because so many live shows are legendary, for years rumors have been
whispered about the release of a live album.  "We've thought about it"
Robinson says.  "Fans give me tapes all the time, and it's weird to listen
to them.  We really feel the performance when we're doing it, but then
it's over.  Listening to a taped show is like studying game films.
We tape every show one way or the other, so if there's ever going to be a
live album, we'll let our fans get together and sift through all the
hours of tape and pick their favorite songs."

Preparing to embark on a long tour in support of Three Snakes And One
Charm, Robinson reiterates that approval of the new record is not the
aim of The Black Crowes.  "We aren't in this to be popular.  We have goals
that are deeper than those of the industry.  We believe in the tradition
of songwriting and musicianship.  Music is like a body of water.  We may
have a canoe, and The Rolling Stones may have a yacht, but we both just
reach over and catch fish when we want to."