Love! Hate! Sex! Drugs! Rock 'n' Roll! Ego! Arrogance! Pubic Hair!

Metal Hammer - Oct. 1994
thanks to pp90


The BLACK CROWES are back with 'Amorica'. And Chris Robinson is in London, 
opening his heart, baring his soul and taking Chris Marlowe on a journey through 
his mind. Wanna join the trip?...

When the decorators designed the elegant interior of this posh hotel suite, they 
undoubtedly never pictured it inhabited by a guest like Chris Robinson. Brocade 
curtains are drawn against the daylight, only limited wattage glows through the 
swirls of joss stick smoke, and a substantial flight-cased stereo blocks the way 
between two huge armchairs. The makers of the fabulously expensive sofa probably 
didn't think some skinny guy wearing patched denim flares would comfortably 
ensconce himself in its cushions and then prop his unshod feet on the marble 
coffee table, either. No matter how many albums the Black Crowes have sold.

"'Shake Your Moneymaker' still sells like 5,000 copies a week in the States," 
Chris marvels. "I'm like, 'Who the fuck is buying this? Are these for party 
gags?' I guess it's a pretty weird sort of thing to be suspicious of your debut, 
but I just don't think it was meant to be that popular." Of course, he's not 
exactly complaining. He laughs, 'Hey, you know - better me than someone else! 
But, it is strange."

'Amorica' shows just how far the Crowes have come in only three albums and less 
than five years. It's a sensual record which sounds confidently at ease with the 
band's blues roots. What's rather more unexpected is the intensely personal 
nature of the words. "This is really naked," Chris admits. "Lyrically it's a lot 
more me. I still think the other songs we wrote are personal. But 'Shake Your 
Moneymaker', we tried to write rock songs. It was a limited range from just 
being local musicians. I mean, I love those songs still, and we play 'Seeing 
Things' and 'Sister Luck', and they still sound really great to me. And I guess 
songs like 'Sometimes Salvation' were getting to be like what these songs are. 
But you know, it's not really like 'Cursed Diamond', 'I hate myself - doesn't 
everybody hate themselves'."

He believes this might be because the band finally took some time off to have 
personal lives before writing 'Amorica'. Asked if it might also be because he's 
growing up, he theatrically recoils then laughs, "Yeah, I know - it's horrible! 
But no, I trust what me and my brother Rich want to do as songwriters. And what 
we want to do as a band. And, I trust our fans. I think that's one of the 
reasons why we have fans, is because they know we're going to fucking push the 
envelope. Now I know we can do what we want in our own way. We're not afraid to 
take chances."

Chris feels like he's learned a lot over the past two years. Eighteen months of 
touring has unquestionably honed the Crowes' musical abilities. It also seems to 
have been a period of personal introspection, however. "We love doing this and 
the commitment that we made years ago is still important to us," he is pleased 
to observe. "And to make a real statement you have to dig deeper. I can't edit 
the way I think about things. Like there are definitely sexist moments on the 
record, but then again there's moments where there's no way I could go without 
being in love. Or even trying to figure out what these things mean."

Some of this self-analysis was inspired by events captured in the Crowes' 
documentary video Who Killed That Bird... In amongst the music are numerous 
montages of the exact same inverview points touched on over and over again, each 
time by different people. Why is Chris so thin, does he really fight all the 
time with his brother Rich, do they really smoke as much dope as their image 
implies - the questions quickly become cliched even for the home viewer, much 
less how it must be for the Crowes. "For me, you have this love of music and you 
want to try it out," Chris explains. "What the fuck does that have to do with 
answering the same questions in a radio station in Des Moines to a guy who's 
more worried about getting the time right to put his commercial on then about 
what you're saying. Like the clips where they ask me about Rich - about 50 
times. How do you deal with that? When the really main reason you got involved 
in music was..." He suddenly interrupts himself, swigs from
  his bottle of water, then changes the subject by joking, "to get laid, I 
guess."

After a thoughtful pause, Chris tangentially muses, "I do sort of wish more 
people could see how nice everyone in my band is. I mean, I know that's not very 
rock and roll. It's just we're insanely proud. Music is the most serious thing 
to us. So when you talk about why you play music and you talk about being a 
musician, that's deathly serious stuff. Rich and I, everyone thinks we're these 
fucking monsters. But literally every one in my band is the most pleasant 
person, but they're also very bright and very, very sarcastic and very dry-
witted and will fuck with you just to see if they can pull your strings. Of 
course I would never do that," he teases. "I'm talking about the other guys, not 
me."

There is a hint somewhere in there that the incipiently mature Chris might be 
regretting some of the outspoken arrogance of earlier days. Does he mind having 
acquired that label? "Nah, My teachers thought I was arrogant, you know?" he 
replies, with a knowing smile. "And it's like, 'I'm not arrogant, it's just that 
you're wrong.' I don't mind being considered arrogant, but I would like for it 
to be in my own terms. As far as - it doesn't mean that I think I'm any worse or 
any better, but my arrogance is the thing that keeps me going with my music. I 
have the most intensely insane arrogance and ego, but it's the kind of ego that 
I can go on stage and totally lose myself and not have to think about it. You 
need that ego to get up there and sing in front of large groups of people!"

Regardless of the denial, Chris comes surprisingly close to an uncharcteristic 
blush when he then remarks, "I'll tell you, though, some mornings you can think, 
'Man, I love this album and I'm so proud of it,' and then you can wake up some 
mornings and go, 'Man, we suck.' But I don't care what other people think of it. 
I mean, honestly it would suck because I love it and I want to go on the road 
and play every night. But I know that it doesn't matter. I know that I went 
another six months without becoming something or somebody or anything that I 
don't want to be. And that's the most important sort of battle I think young 
people have. Not that I'm young anymore. I'll be 28 in December, you know."

This seems an appropriate time to introduce the subject of the aforementioned 
'Amorica'. "Okay," the singer amiably shrugs. "Hey, I made that damn thing - 
let's talk about it."

One of the most fascinating tracks on the album is the searingly intimate 
'Cursed Diamond'. It's quite possibly the first time he's overly admitted to 
caring what anyone else thinks of him, an observation he nods agreement with. 
"That one is a laugh a minute,"  Chris dryly comments. "We haven't even played 
it live. It's pretty personal. It's sad. The entire theme of the song is pretty 
helpless. But I think that makes it better, to admit those things. Rich brought 
the music for that whole song, completed, down to my room. And I was like, 'Wow! 
Man, I have to do something that I haven't done before, because this is a 
special piece of music.' So I saw a show about cursed famous diamonds, like the 
Hope Diamond I guess had a curse on it. And people wanted these extravagantly 
expensive and beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime jewels, yet they caused them so much 
misery." With a wry look, he elaborates, "I liked that as a metaphor for a 
relationship. It's very desperate, but I think a lot
of people can really understand that."

The line Chris quoted earlier about hating himself is the one that grabs the ear 
first. He says that couplet makes him crack up. As an alternative, he offers, "I 
think the best part is, 'I tell myself it's all in my mind, so I let the poison 
go, because I always know it will be there for me.' Anyone can go sober 
themselves up, but I always know where the bottle is."

That's clear then. His further explanation is not terribly enlightening, but it 
nonetheless provides insight into what inspired the song. "It's not easy, having 
to deal in that shit," Chris says. "I don't like when people lie to me in my 
personal life. On a day-to-day, we're-all-fucked sort of basis, just because 
people think you're a rock star doesn't mean that people don't lie to you still. 
And hurt your feelings. Your best friends. It hurts me more than getting my ass 
kicked, more than anything. It's the worst. Not that that song is necessarily 
about that, you know. Everyone goes through the same shit."

Mentioning the emotionally intense 'She Gave Good Sunflower' almost physically 
startles its singer. "Oh, that's a weird one," he remarks. "It's sort of like, 
I'm going to put up with all the shit, in a weird way that's sort of like a love 
song."

It's a love song in not such a weird way, too. In fact, it actually says those 
three little words. "That end part," Chris reluctantly admits. "I've never said 
'I love you' in a song, and it says that. I was thinking, 'I can't let this song 
end like this, because I can't admit this.' And I wanted to say, 'I hate you and 
I'm out of here' or whatever, but it just would never come. I probably sang it 
six times or something and it would not come out that way."

He falls silent for a moment before brightly adding, "That break at the end is 
one of my favourite parts of the album, though. There's something about that 
strange keyboard sort of floaty thing that so perfectly adds to the drama of 
that end. I love the way it just hangs there and sets it up. I like it because 
that sounds like the Black Crowes live, too. That's the band in the studio, 
bringing it down and then picking it up. It ain't no fucking edit!"

Gently accused of having deflected the conversation away from getting too 
personal, Chris responses, "Lyrics - people don't really care anymore, sort of. 
But that's why I love the first Little Feat album so much. There's lines on that 
record that just blow me away. Like, 'Yeah, yes of course! Depression! I'm not 
the only one!" The simplest things will just bust me up. They mean so much. I 
let things upset me. It's like, I've had girlfriends before who would be like, 
you know, if you got in a weird depressed place, 'I don't want to see you cry.' 
Well, fuck you. Because you get to see me like that and no one else does. I'm 
trusting in you. But if they are that kind of person then they are fucked - with 
me that is."

Not much of an intuitive leap is required to think that perhaps a particular 
relationship provided the catalyst for all this musical sould baring. Initially 
Chris says, "No. I've had the same girlfriend now for a year-and-a-half, and 
we've had some problems and stuff but we're still together and I love her." 
After a moment, he adds, 'I mean, some of my old girlfriends seem to rear their 
heads up and I probably want to yell at them a little bit." Then, when several 
long quiet seconds have passed, he acknowledges, "I guess I'd have to say making 
the record I was much more angry at my girlfirend, at the time. And at things 
that never worked out - not that I really cared or anything." No, of course not.

There is a lyric booklet accompanying 'Amorica' for those fans who wish to read 
even more into these new songs. As he does over all of the Crowes' artwork, from 
album covers right down to the laminated tour passes, Chris took great pains 
over its design. On the front is a photograph which the band purchased. "It was 
a 1976 Bicentennial Hustler magazine cover of this chick from about mid-thigh to 
about where the ribs start", he describes. "And she has an American flag string 
bkini, and her pubic hair coming out, and she's sort of sweaty looking."

It will cause controversy. The conservative middle of band's homeland will 
object, and so will feminists of a certain type. "Like everything we do, the 
people who like it and get it are going to love it, and the people who don't 
will hate it." Chris shrugs. "And we couldn't give a shit about those people, 
because we don't do it for them. It's an excellent visual. And with the title 
and the American flag and with the music, I think it makes perfect sense in a 
totally sort of yin-and-yang sort of way."

Potential accustations of sexism don't bother Chris in the slightest. "What ever 
happened to a good does of sexism in rock and roll?" he responds rhetorically. 
"There's nothing wrong with it, if you look at it in terms of just sex. If you 
don't look at it in terms of as two individuals in the world or anything like 
seriously bigoted. Out of all of the things in the world there are to get upset 
about, a piece of pop art is not one of them. But you know, it should. I think 
it should kick you in the leg. 'Hey, wake up! Think a little bit!"

Those considerations aside, it's worth bearing in mind that the back cover of 
that lyric book portrays an old suffragette poster demanding 'Votes For Women' 
before jumping to any conclusions. "That's why i take the time to do our own 
artwork and put together these sort of things," Chris says. "That's what I like. 
In juxtaposition to the music. The album is so much about different women and 
things. In a blues sort of theme, it's like 'I love you so much but look what 
you do to me'."

'Amorica' is not entirely merely emotional or cerebral regarding relationships, 
either. 'Oh, definitely not. Like there is a line 'fingernails full of fur' 
which is so, so sexy," Chris says dreamily. "My mom really likes that line."