The Black Crowes were always more about keeping alive the spirit of their blues-rock forefathers — The Rolling Stones, The Faces, The Allman Brothers, etc. — than creating something entirely new. Far from being mere mimics, though, the Crowes have managed to forge their own sound which remains true to its roots without becoming stagnant or purely nostalgic.
Two types of songs — psychedelic, ’60s/’70s throwbacks and more countrified, midtempo numbers — have been the Crowes’ stock in trade, and that’s no different on “Warpaint,” the group’s seventh album and first since 2001’s underappreciated “Lions.”
The Crowes kick off with “Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution,” a heaping hunk of no-nonsense Southern boogie, and Chris Robinson (vocals), Rich Robinson (guitar), Sven Pipien (bass), Steve Gorman (drums), and the newest members, keyboardist Adam MacDougall and guitarist Luther Dickinson, also of the North Mississippi All-Stars, are in classic form. Dickinon’s slide guitar and MacDougall’s twinkling piano lead the way as Chris Robinson belts out the celebratory chorus, singing “C’mon, join the jubilee.” In the two hole is “Walk Believer Walk,” a dirty, ponderous blues, which contrasts nicely with the feathery lilt of “Goodbye.”
“Oh Josephine” is the first slower song and the first breathtaking highlight. There’s a perfect marriage of piano and an oscillating guitar effect that blankets Chris Robinson’s vocal. “Evergreen” is another rocker, and its heaviness is masked by Gorman and Pipien’s nimble rhythm work. A few tracks later, the Crowes bring the boil down to a simmer for “Locust Street,” a delicate piece that recalls the mystical instrumentation of Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” album before barreling into a sweet Rolling Stones country-rock refrain. The song works so well that a line like “Hear the sunrise cry” doesn’t come off as the heavy-handed imagery that it is.
“Wounded Bird” is crunchy, expansive, uptempo rock, with the band again exploring loud-soft dynamics like never before. During the comedown, a spooky Duane Allman-esque guitar lick flutters by.
“There’s Gold in Them Hills” would not be out of place on The Band’s “Music From Big Pink” and not only because of its title. The sparse, haunting frontiersman narrative unfurls itself across a rustic landscape peppered with some saloon-style piano.
“Whoa Mule” is the closer, launching from some harmonized a cappella vocals — “Whoa mule/ We’re dirty, but we’re dreaming/ We’ll both get there someday” — into a just-right blend of pump organ, hand percussion, harmonica and guitars.
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