"It's funny, because ours and Lenny's first records came out around the same time 10 years ago, and everybody gave us (crap) about being too retro, like it was just a fad or whatever," said the 32-year-old singer, calling from a hotel room in Little Rock, Ark., last week. "Now, we're the only bands still around from back then."
It's not that Robinson takes any joy in the dismal nature of the music business in the '90s, where most groups flash in the pan and then prepare for a VH1 "Where Are They Now?" special. OK, he does get some delight in watching what he calls the "Fuzzbox 20" bands -- "the guys from Poison and Slaughter, only they got haircuts" -- fall by the wayside. But it's probably only a natural defense mechanism, since his band has been slagged for so many years as a musical act out of touch with the here-and-now, even while their records sold well into the millions right there and then.
With the current state of rock music looking as soggy as John Popper's harmonicas, the Crowes' music is being eyed and eared with newfound interest. The band, which plays the Austin Music Hall tonight and Retama Park near San Antonio on May 1 (the latter with Kravitz), just released its fifth album and most acclaimed effort in years, "By Your Side."
"(The Crowes) are just involved with something deeper than the cool, trendy thing of the moment," Robinson said. "You don't stop reading F. Scott Fitzgerald because he was a writer in the '20s. The kids are always going to want to go back to where the good stuff came from, especially when the music industry is at its most corporate and greedy, like it is now. It's like a lost puppy, and these bands . . . bitch about having to be such big rock stars and deal with the rigors of fame when their talent amounts to getting a good haircut. In a couple years, they'll be washing my Range Rover."
He added, emphatically, "You have to be humble in the face of your tradition."
By being humble, the flashy, lanky frontman ironically meant not being afraid to play up your rock-star image and showmanship, or taking a thing or two from the past greats who set the state. The Crowes, then, have been humble since the beginning.
Sons of pop singer Stan Robinson, who had a minor hit in 1959 with "Boom-a-Dip-Dip," Chris and his younger, guitar-playing brother Rich formed an early version of the group in Atlanta in the mid-'80s, when Rich was still young enough to play "Jumpin' Jack Flash" in the high school band. By 1990, though, they were signed to Rick Rubin's American label and on the charts with their debut album, the aptly named "Shake Your Moneymaker." With hits such as "She Talks to Angels," "Jealous Again" and the home-grown cover of Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle," the album went on to sell five million copies and make the Crowes a rock-radio staple.
Young, brash and full of life (read: drugs and alcohol), the Crowes devoured their success and made their appetites known. In an article in Melody Maker, the one that permanently branded the Crowes the most rock 'n' roll rock 'n' roll band in the world, Chris told the magazine, "There are those people who choose not to live up to the Aryan ideals of sobriety and health . . . who want to be allowed to taste and feel and go as low as they can, or as high."
Appropriately, the next few records reflected that statement. The second one, "The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion," was definitely a high-point musically, with the band delving deeper into its Georgia roots while soaring as a fine-tuned riff machine just came off a year and a half of touring. Lyrically and personally, though, 1994's "Amorica" was rougher and meaner, a vantage point that grew even bleaker on the '96 release "Three Snakes and a Charm." The fast living was taking its toll on the band. It had already replaced one guitarist with another and was learning the ugly nature of the music business. Airplay for the new records was scarce. Its record company, now defunct, was on its last leg. Meanwhile, the often-combative Robinson brothers were fighting themselves and their personal demons, and struggling through marital problems.
"No matter what went on, Rich and I were always able to sit down and write songs that were an exact mirror of where we were at," Robinson said. "With 'Amorica,' we were angry. With 'Three Snakes,' it was an emotional melee. The drugs didn't help, but drugs are an inanimate object when you're dealing with something like the horrible relationship I had with my ex-wife.
"I don't think there was anything wrong with those records, though, and I don't think our fans do, either. It doesn't help you get on the radio when you write an angry, personal record and your record company is an abortion. It's taken me a long time to blame the record company, because I'm the kind of person to blame myself first, but I am happier than anyone that Rick Rubin lost his label. He just is not a cool guy."
The new "By Your Side" resembles a light at the end of the tunnel. The band's label woes vanished when they transferred to Columbia Records, and their personal lives evened out. Songs like the "Stop Kicking My Heart Around" and "Virtue and Vice" are among the most chest-beating, electric rockers the band has ever thrown to the dogs, while the new single "Only a Fool" and the terrific "Go Tell the Congregation" find them exploring Southern soul all over again.
"It's a celebration," Robinson said of the record. "A lot of it had to do with us recording in New York, because it's such an energetic backdrop. And it was sort of a nod to the whole decade thing, celebrating our 10th anniversary. But yeah, we're a lot happier, too."
Clearly, the one thing that hasn't changed about the band is its classic-rock tinge. The current lineup that includes new members bassist Sven Pipen (bass) and Audley Freed (guitar) may be its most Stones-like to date. And while the Stones were in their 30s when they went through their most productive if tumultuous period, Robinson said the Crowes' wild-side may be at a happy medium.
"You know, I'm always honest about it. I'll always like to have a cocktail or two," he said. "But we're more responsible now. We've got kids, wives, ex-wives -- that really changes things from when you're 20. If anything, we're more into the band now than ever. We get more out of it, too."
