The Black Crowes

Picture this: You're in a bar, when a bunch of drunk, giggly chicks huddle around the jukebox and start selecting songs while their boyfriends play pool. Eventually, the Black Crowes' cover of Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle," from their debut, Shake Your Money Maker, starts blaring. The women shriek with excitement. The bartender smiles and starts to bop in place and turns the music up. Being the conscientious music lover that you are, you stand, overturn a table and proceed to spew Busch Light all over the entire scene. How many more times can you stand hearing the same damn song? you cry. Naturally, this dampens the mood, but you feel strangely rejuvenated. You figure this is a good time to deliver a music lecture. (Because music-geek lectures are always better-received when the audience is covered in skunky beer.) You tell them that the Black Crowes have five more albums — their second and third, Southern Harmony and Musical Companion and Amorica, being unsung American rock classics. You tell 'em the Crowes really started to find themselves after they shook off the faux-Stones posturing. You posit that, for years, they've reached deeply onstage, improvising and playing sets that change nightly and are on a par with the Allman Brothers. You hand the bartender one of the later discs and tell him to press Play. At first, the patrons are confused, but then they start to wiggle and shake. Beer starts to fly off their bodies, but the music keeps their minds off the dampness and the odor. People start to make out and cry to the sad songs. You've saved another bad scene and made it safe for great rock and roll.