so fluidly that they shake freer than ever before from the retrorock tag that has dogged the band. The Crowes haven't ceased their cocky pillaging of the universal jukebox – echoes of the Stones and Led Zep resound – but in jolting the mix with offbeat kicks (Latino rhythms, wah-wah guitar, strange vocal treatments), they sound remarkably fresh.
A knockout debut, Shake Your Money Maker (1990), presented brothers Chris and Rich Robinson, a fab rhythm section and guest godfather Chuck Leavell (keyboardist for the Allmans and Stones) reeling off Faces-meets-Skynyrd riffs more toughly than anyone since their homeboys the Georgia Satellites. At a time when most young players seemed hardly to have heard of Otis Redding, the Crowes' crunching cover of "Hard to Handle" was a reminder, and with "She Talks to Angels" (still their finest tune), they showed a gift for unsentimental balladry. Southerners rekindling the Keith Richards motifs Keith had copped from earlier Southern R&B was a cool payback; Chris' gruff vocals suggested a pre-sell-out Rod Stewart or an unwearied Paul Rodgers; and with grunge yet to explode, the sound was enough to feed guitar-hungry hordes. With its stronger material ("Thorn in My Pride," "Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye") allowed to meander, The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion (1992) disappointed – even if Chris' delivery had matured and the band's rock power remained unchecked.
Amorica boosts and expands on that power. A wham-bam number, "Gone," with drummer Steve Gorman dealing vicious syncopation of the sort John Bonham patented, starts things off, and the Crowes pounce lean and brutal. "Gone" is prime Chris Robinson, all wry phrasing and desperado attitude. Pissed, nervy, stubborn, Chris writes best about the inchoate urge for deliverance ("Want you to burn me, baby.... Cover your eyes with my ashes/C'mon, why don't you pray for me/Sit back, and watch my divine spark flash"). It's less his gypsy scarves and Between the Buttons drag that make him a true rocker than his unquenched restlessness. "A Conspiracy" hits equally hard, but "High Head Blues" shows new range: Eric Bobo's percussion lends a low-riding strut, a relaxed assurance the song shares with the countryish "Wiser Time," its pedal steel provided by American Music Club's Bruce Kaphan.
"Cursed Diamond" updates the rhythm & blues testifying the Crowes first assayed on Money Maker's "Jealous Again." It's another Chris Robinson confessional ("I hate myself/Doesn't everybody hate themselves"), as is "NonFiction" – the latter, how
