Fucking A! The Black Crowes were awesome[1]!

I must admit to not knowing much about them, other than radio name recognition, when I saw the ad in Atlanta Creative Loafing, but through the flyer I felt their music floating toward me through the hazy late-summer heat. There’s something just right about Southern Rock and late afternoon heat[2].

Flier

Atlanta had had some serious late afternoon thundershowers the preceeding few days which sent me scurrying off to Wal-Mart for a $3 umbrella as I prepared myself for a huddled down show. But in the end Sunday afternoon turned into a steamy hot Sunday evening as the hometown crowd gathered at Chastain Park.

Chris Robinson got it right when he welcomed everyone to the show after ‘a little monsoon’ – his gospel inflected vocal style present even in his sing-song way of speaking.

Gathering Storm

The Black Crowes are vaguely classified as a hard rock Jam Band. Jam is right. The songs are constructed around thick, scratchy blues riffs that are set up for extended jam opportunities. The guitarists invariably trade solos as the songs organically growing into the evening air. Even the drummer gets an extended solo as the rest of the band members light up a cigarette[3].

The show itself is stoner central with the stage covered in oriental rugs and a US love flag draped over the organ on stage left.

US Love

Of course there were some absurdities(this being America). Even though it is an outdoor venue there is absolutely no smoking allowed. What? We’re here to see one of the top three stoner bands[4] in the world, it’s a fucking rock show and there shall be no smoking? Are you fucking nuts?? About 5 minutes into the show the first plumes of smoke appeared in the pit down front and by the time the sun was down the evening air was filled with the smell of marijuana[5] and, surprisingly, incense.
But regardless of your preference for beer, water or weed a nite with the Crowes is all about the blues riffs and the jams. And from first song to last the riffs and the jams were as thick as the batter on Chicken Fried Chicken. I’ll stop with the down-home lingo now, but the whole thing was absolutely fantastic, y’all.

Great musicians, wild hair, gloopy riffs and the distant snoring of cicadas.

[1] I’d rate it up with Dieselboy in Cape Town and Takkyu Ishino in Kuala Lumpur
[2] Cape Town summer weather is just terrible, dry and windy. I’ll take heat and humidity any day.
[3] Or worse
[4] And they’re willing to back it up, and not only through their image. Chris Robinson was high as a kite throughout
[5] Let’s not be coy by calling it a ‘herb’ – these people were looking to smoke some major pot.