transcribed by: Christine ! thanks :) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kerrang!- June 26 1999 Miami Vice. In the steamy climes of deepest Florida, The Black Crowes are haviing the time of their lives- lapping up the sun, insulting the locals and entertaining 7,000 rabid fans. But then this is the band who have spent the last 10 years "just running around, trying to get high"... Miami, Florida is all white. From the small stucco, Spanish-style buildings to the gentle waves that break on South Beach, everything seems unnaturally clean and pure. On the golden coast of America, this is expected Inside the De Lano Hotel, the air is thick with the smell of money. With its billowing drapes and distorted mirrors, the place oozes decadence. Out the back, a security guard stands by the pool vetting visitors. Silicone-implanted nymphets lounge serenely on over-sized airbeds, lapping up the sun. Tanned waiters bring an endless stream of cocktails to beefed-up men who murmur into mobiles, while their girlfriends flick listlessly through style mags or trashy models. Frankly, everyone looks bored. With his pale countenance, bottles of beer and devilish laugh, Chris Robinson sticks out among the tanned automatons of the Florida elite like a blind cobblers thumb. Clean-shaven and fresh-faced, his fleshless frame is sprawled in a poolside chair. Ten years have passed since Robinson howled and twirled his way through The Black Crowes' momentous debut album, 'Shake Your Money Maker', but the singer is looking fighting fit. "I've only ever wanted the freedom to do whatever I want," he enthuses. "When I was in school I was a horrible student. I was particularly bad at maths and chemistry and all that shit- little do they know how much I know about chemistry now!- and music was my way out. I don't regret anything so far, but I do wish that we'd paid more attention. At times I was a bit free with things. I never knew how much anything cost because it was all paid for- and then you grow up and you've got wives and ex-wives and babies, it's about time I started fucking paying attention." What's been the best time in the past decade? "Right now- in the present day." The sun might be beating down on Miami, but things haven't always been this bright and breezy where The Black Crowes are concerned. After the multi-platinum triumph of '...Money Maker' and its critically lauded successor, 1992's 'TYhe Southern Harmony And Musical Companion', teh Crowes' star began to wobble. Successive releases- '94's 'Amorica' and '96's 'Three Snakes And One Charm'- were distinctly underwhelming, guitarist Marc Ford and long-standing bassist Johnny Colt were ousted from the ranks just prior to the recording of last album 'By Your Side', and years of hard work and harder living were beginning to take their toll. There came a time, says Chris Robinson, when he realised that he had to sit down and take stock of his life. "Personally, I guess I really had to face facts- like 'Man, you might be losing it", he smiles. "I'm not talking about my career, I'm talking about my sanity. It was all very unhealthy. "I've had to realise what's important to me and thats the music. It's always been the music. It wasn't so much the drugs; I just found myself having to take care of shit around me that had nothing to do with music. I've never been a selfish person and the weird thing about success is this guilt thing I've got- thats the three-quarter Polish-jew in me. The English-Scotch-Irish side is all my drinking and my bravado. Plus I'm always neurotic and paranoid." Arguably the nadir of the bands career came three years ago, with the release of 'Three Snakes And One Charm'. The album was a lacklustre affair that failed to recapture the ground that the band had lost, helped in no small part by increasingly rife substance abuse and the ever-volatile relationship between Chris and his guitarist brother Rich, which had reached a point where the pair were barely communicating. The fact that the Crowes seemed to labouring under the misapprehension that they were the new Grateful Dead- bizarre facial hair experiments and all- was the least of their worries. "On the 'Three Snakes...' tour, shit was getting pretty out there," laughs Chris, "Steve (Gorman, drums) said he knew things were weird when our friends stopped hanging around and we spent the entire time just running around, trying to get high. We were in Cincinnati recently and there was a picture of me in the local paper and I had this huge beard and hair down to my waist. I was like, "Who is that guy? he looks pretty unhappy!'. "But then I read an article the ohther day about Bruce Springsteen and it said, 'Unlike Bob Dylan or Neil Young, Bruce never went weird'. And thats exactly why I don't like Bruce Springsteen! We all go weird from time to time, right?" Right. But some never come back. "Not The Black Crowes!" he beams. !I woke up one day and realised that this isn't me and that I had to find joy in music again and make some choices. But everyone does that, not just people in bands. Its been 10 years, and within that time period evryone goes through changes." What's been the lowest point? "It hurts my feeling when people around me lie to me," whispers Chris. "People close to me. That's much more important to me than any of the rock star shit. Within it all though, I've managed to squeeze in a couple of good times..." He breaks of for a moment, noticing an over-weight, lobster coloured gent staring at him. "Hey, look!" he says in his Southern baritone drawl. "A man. A fat man. A fat man with a tan." The fat man looks away, embarrassed, and Chris returns to the matter in hand. "This is a beautiful place, yeah, but..." he says, shrugging his shoulders with the air of a man who has had drink, drugs and women handed to him on a plate. "I have other things that make me happy now. I just hang out in LA and read. We're all big fans of football, particularly the Italian leagues. Most of all, music is the centre of everything again. We have a responsibility to our audience, our music is a big part of their lives just like other artists' music is a big part of their lives, and that's a beautiful circle. I don't understand trends and I don't see soul as fashionable. Emotion will always translate. In the tranquil surroundings of Miami Beach, Rich Robinson seems less at ease with the rock 'n' roll trappings and the white-hot sunlight than his brother. The 29-year-old is, as he repeatedly contests a mere guitarist, albeit one prone to saying things like: "Think of a world without music, paintings or beauty". It's no secret that the relationship between Rich and Chris has been strained to breaking point in the past, but their sibling rivalry appears to have been ironed out- at least for the time being. These days, while his brother suns it up on the West Coast, Rich lives with his wife in their hometown of Atlanta. It's typical of a man who seems to be modest to the point of shyness. Ask him about the various successes the Crowes have had over the years, and the guitarist shrugs non-committally. "We've never played the game," he mumbles. "It's helped us and it's hurt us, because we've never done anything just to make money. Maybe we're selfish, but at least we can live with ourselves. We're saying: 'This is the choice we.ve made- f**ck you'." What do you think when you look back at the five albums yoou've created? "I like 'em all," he declares. "Peoplr may not have liked 'Three Snakes And One Charm', but I'd like to think that they'd appreciate what we were trying to do. It's the ame for 'Amorica'; it was heavier and angrier. 'By Your Side' is all about taking everything that we've learnt over 10 years and putting it iinto great rock songs." With the departure of second guitarist Marc Ford, it's quite clear that Rich has taken charge of the Crowes' musical destiny. "I played all the guitars on the recent album. I might not be flashy, but thats because the song always rules every time. Music is at a horrible place right now. It's all about selling records, and I blame the media, record companies, TV: the whole industry. Kids in bands these days might look good in a video, but they can't play the licks. Obviously, thats a generalisation, but to me music is an art form and if people don't want to admit it then they can f**k off too. And with that he slopes off to dress for dinner with tour-mate Lenny Kravitz, where he'll purchase $250 bottles of wine while Kerrang! drinks nickel beers and fends off prostitutes in a local dive. C'est la vie. The following night, the Black Crowes are in nearby Fort Lauderdale to play the sold-out 7,000 capacity Sunrise Arena. They've been on the road for much of the six months, promoting 'By Your Side' with a series of low-key club shows of their own and now this co-headlining jaunt with Kravitz. It takes approximately 30 seconds of opening song 'Remedy' to lift every arse in the venue off every seat. Another 30 seconds later and the air is rich with the pungent smell of weed, as podgy security guards attempt to quell the pumped-up Friday night masses. This is very rock and, indeed, rather roll. Backstage afterwards, Chris is buzzing around the room, passing joints and getting excited about playing with Aerosmith in Europe. "They took us on our first arena tour back in 1990," he says. "We were punks then. We had an attitude which was down to fear, but we've always respected them. The gigs are going to be great. "We're going to be playing Wembly again too. Last time we were there with the Rolling Stones, we were just jammin' and people were going, 'What are you doing?'. We were, like, 'We're doing our thing, man'. No regrets, though. If I had to go back, I'd do the same f**king thing every time. If your creative you've just got to follow your feelings, man. That's all you can do."