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Black Crowes
You know, I thought I liked this band. I didn’t know their music very well, but they displayed a strong visual image, combined with an innate ability to ‘rock’, in the cool, retro sense of the word. If that’s enough, then the Black Crowes are all right, but unfortunately, it isn’t. “Who Killed the Bird Out on Your Windowsill”” provides visual evidence that the Black Crowes (or more specifically, their frontman, Chris Robinson) is 20% Rod Stewart, and 80% full of sh#t (which, come to think of it, makes him 100% Rod Stewart, doesn’t it?). Robinson spends so much time talking trash about other (unnamed) musicians who don’t ‘wail’ that he almost sounds defensive.
“If they don’t wail, then they might as well just lip-sync, y’know? If you’re not into it, why bother?” is one quote.
Then, for the next 90 minutes, the Black Crowes provide indisputable evidence that they may know how to ‘wail’, but they rarely play a wholly realized song. They have the rock and roll attitude down flat (which means I’ll never live down this review), and Robinson can be a very funny guy, but so much of it reeks of posturing. Whenever a bandmember (except perhaps the drummer) has a moment to pause, he plays with his hair. They drink Jack Daniels, and talk about getting stoned a lot. They keep their hair hippie-length long, and wear plenty of rock and roll accoutrements. The posing is almost a distraction. Robinson vogues more than Madonna does, so it rings false when he complains about other (unnamed) rockers who can’t “keep it real”.
The iconography of this video indicates a band with excellent taste and influences. They listen to Leon Russell (and mis-quote his lyrics) and Little Feat. These sources should have taught the Black Crowes how to ‘wail’ over an interesting melody. “Leon Live.” “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now.” But stop for a few seconds and hum the melody of a Black Crowes song (okay, besides “She Talks to Angels”)…not too easy, is it? Their songs are simple chord progressions drenched in stylizations, then spray-painted with Chris Robinson’s faux-soul howl. The lyrics are non-sequitors. The title of this DVD is a non-sequitor. With no apparent melodies and rambling lyricism, the songs blend together until they become difficult to segregate, and even more difficult to appreciate.
Perhaps this sounds overly cruel, or maybe you’re getting the impression that I’m the one with the attitude problem, so let me make it clear that there are quite a few elements about the Black Crowes that I admire. The band has a great energy, and they certainly know how to rock (or ‘wail’), without question. The problem is that they are rocking without any sense of purpose. I kept waiting for a “song” to happen, but it’s all strong attitude laced with weak nostalgia. They are everything I wanted to be in 1977, and everything that I’ve tried NOT to be since then.
Midway through “Who Killed the Bird,” a bandmember says “Anyone who buys our record wouldn’t listen to a critic anyway,” and he’s probably right. Point taken, and I stand advised. I’m sure that fans will hate me for it, but you should be advised too; If you buy their music, you’ll only encourage them. Before seeing this DVD, I never knew that I disliked the Black Crowes. Now I know. C TOM RYAN
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