bands

Lots of broken-up bands reconvene for a tour, as the Black Crowes did in 2019, half a decade after brothers Chris and Rich Robinson dissolved the Southern rock group they’d formed in Atlanta in the mid-1980s. Some even stay together long enough to make a new record, as the Crowes managed to do with 2024’s well-received “Happiness Bastards.” What’s relatively rare in music is for a reunited band to quickly follow up a comeback album with a second one. Yet that’s what the Robinsons did this year when they dropped “A Pound of Feathers,” the Crowes’ 10th studio LP, behind which they’ll touch down Monday night at the Hollywood Bowl. Ahead of the show, Chris Robinson, 59, called from the road to tell the stories behind five of the band’s songs.

‘Hard to Handle’ (1990)

The Black Crowes broke out with a frisky cover of this Otis Redding tune just as hair metal was giving way to grunge. A hit on MTV, the song drove sales of the band’s debut, “Shake Your Money Maker,” to sales of more than 5 million copies.

There are some songs of Otis’ that I couldn’t do justice. As a 21-year-old kid starting my career — well, we didn’t even know we were gonna have careers — but what am I gonna sing? “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long”? “Hard to Handle,” it’s cheeky, it’s lighthearted. And I loved the break: “Pretty little thing, let me light your candle…” So I took it to George Drakoulias, our producer, and I said, “I think we could do this.” George is the one who turned it into “Walk This Way” — he put it in the same rhythmic space. Otis’ version swings, but we really couldn’t swing at the time.

So “Hard to Handle” wasn’t something you were playing live early on?
No, we brought it in for the record. Being from Georgia and Otis being from Georgia, it was important to us that people knew this is where we’re coming from. Two autumns ago, Zelma Redding and her family invited us to their big old ranch outside Macon, and we had an afternoon in the great man’s study. They have all his awards and guitars and stuff and the velvet slippers he had on when the plane crashed. At certain times in our career, we’ve been like, “F—, do we have to play ‘Hard to Handle’ again?’” We’d jam at the end or try all these things to make it sound different. But as the years have gone by, we just play it the way it’s supposed to be.

George’s engineer, Brendan O’Brien, played the guitar solo in “Hard to Handle.” Why?
We had Jeff Cease, but he’d split and gone back to Nashville. And Rich didn’t play solos back then. That changed, but at the time he was the rhythm guitar player. So it was out of necessity. We needed that meat-and-potatoes solo, and Brendan could rip it. I saw him on some podcast saying we were in L.A. and we were gonna call Slash. I’m like, “No we weren’t — you did the solo in Atlanta on Rich’s Les Paul.”

“Shake Your Money Maker” came out on Rick Rubin’s Def American label, and he’s credited as executive producer. Did Rick do anything on the album?
No.

All righty.
I’m just being honest. George and I lived in Rick’s house — I was in the basement — but the most I saw of him at the time was him leaving to go get lunch at Canter’s with Glenn Danzig. He did come to a session once with Andrew Dice Clay. We were called Mr. Crowe’s Garden at the time — we weren’t yet the Black Crowes. Rick and George were like, “You guys probably need to change your name,” and Andrew Dice Clay goes, “You should change it to Sticky Paste.” I said, “Why don’t you stick to the cigarette over your head, and I’ll handle this?”

‘She Talks to Angels’ (1990)

For “Money Maker’s” fourth single, the band released this darkly poetic ballad about a woman struggling with a drug addiction.

Were you nervous to reveal a softer side?
The only trepidation would’ve been because this was the power-ballad era of all the hair-metal bands.

Poison with “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and so on.
Every band had one. There were hair-metal bands that only had power ballads — Firehouse or some band with 17th century French aristocrat hair.

Everything but the lace cravat.
Everything but sincere songwriting. Look, they’re people too — I get it. But we wrote a ballad out of the sincerity of how we were feeling, you know? We were reaching for “Wild Horses” or “Dark End of the Street” or “Astral Weeks.” The power ballad was a device for rock bands, but we didn’t use it as that. We used it as pure expression.

Tell me about the story the song tells.
My interest in writing and literature revolved around darker themes, whether it was the Beats or Paul Bowles or whatever. There’s drugs and madness and pain but also glory and redemption and the true heartbeat of life. So the song is a sad story but it’s romantic. There’s no moral gotcha — no resentment toward the character or the predicament they find themselves in.

How’d you come by that approach?
Reading. My mother, who just passed away a few weeks ago, she gave me a great gift: I’m dyslexic, and my mom in the early ’70s in the Deep South, she knew something was up with me. I went to school three times a week after school for years to learn how to read. And when that clicked, that was everything. My life now, it’s horribly boring. Rick Rubin with Danzig at Canter’s sounds exciting compared to Chris Robinson and the used bookstores of my life.

“Angels” is full of vivid details: the lock of hair in the woman’s pocket, for instance. Who were the songwriters that taught you how to create an image?
It all starts with Bob: “Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule” — like, what?! But I’m a funny Dylan fan because I like the weird lyrics he does, like “Clothes Line Saga” from “The Basement Tapes.” Alex Chilton was really big. The first Big Star record I could get my hands on in the early ’80s was “3rd.” As a matter of fact, the first show we ever did, Rich and I played “Nightime” from that record.

On the strength of “Money Maker,” the Crowes were nominated for best new artist at the Grammys in 1991. You didn’t win —
A theme that continues today.

You remember who did?
It was Mariah Carey, I think.

Correct.
Good for her. Rich and I flew in from some tour date for one night, and I remember MC Hammer winning and doing something with Pepsi. I met MC Hammer a couple years ago. Amazingly cool guy.

What put you and Hammer in the same room?
I’m not allowed to talk about that.

Sure.
No, I’m serious — I can’t talk about it.

‘Remedy’ (1992)

The Crowes’ sophomore album, “The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion,” was led by this swaggering soul-rock jam, which Robinson opened with a memorable couplet: “Baby, baby, why can’t you sit still? / Who killed that bird out on your windowsill?”

I was in Philly a few weeks ago, in Rittenhouse Square, and I said to my friend, “That’s the hotel that I opened my window one gray day on tour, and there was a dead bird.” The room was on the 15th floor or something, and I guess the bird had flown into the glass. I was in a series of early failed rock and roll relationships, so my imagination was: Who killed that bird? Oh, she did it. The rest of it’s made up, but I had to see the dead bird that morning to kick off the thought.

There’s some great interplay here between you and your background singers — really draws out the R&B in the band’s sound.
For us, it’s instinctive. I’ve ingested a lot of Funkadelic, a lot of Prince, a lot of the Gap Band. One of my first concerts was Cameo on the “Alligator Woman” tour — mind-blowing. My singing is far more rhythmic than it is melodic a lot of the time. When I was playing with Joe Perry last summer, Steven Tyler came down to the Hollywood Bowl to do “Train Kept A-Rollin’.” He was like, “What key’s it in?” I said, “I don’t know.” He’s like, “You’ve been out with Joe for three weeks, and you don’t know what key the song’s in?” I said, “Steven, are you ready? I’ve never known what key a song is in.”

“Remedy” spent 11 straight weeks at No. 1 on Billboard’s rock radio chart. One of the songs stuck behind it was the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge.”
And just think — I never took my shirt off.

‘Sting Me’ (1992)

The tune that eventually knocked “Remedy” from the top spot? The Crowes’ second single from “Southern Harmony.”

It’s as close to a protest song as we ever got. Concerts in the ’90s were wild, man — we were seeing security guards beating on kids. But we were also seeing this blind patriotism toward ideals and philosophies that you’ve never even really looked at with any depth. So: “If you feel like a riot / Then don’t you deny it.”

There’s something slippery about the riff — it takes a second to figure out where the one is.
It fights itself — it’s funky in there. “Shake Your Money Maker” was very straight — click tracks to put the drum track together, now play the bass over that, blah blah blah. We just weren’t great at that point. By the time we’re in the studio with “Sting Me,” though, that’s one take live on the floor. We made “Southern Harmony” in eight days.

You can hear the effect of having played a few hundred gigs.
I’m glad you say that. Now bands are like, “I don’t want to go on the road — I’m gonna take a mental health break.” Can you imagine in 1992, you’re in one of the biggest bands in the world, and you’re like, “Hey man, I gotta chill out”? Get the f— out of here.

The “Sting Me” video was filmed at the Great Atlanta Pot Festival in 1992, which the band played as part of your activism around legalizing weed. What’s it been like to see those efforts succeed to some degree?
My main victory within that, if my voice was a part of it, is that we’re in a more gentle place — that it won’t ruin your life now if the police pull you over and there’s a roach in your ashtray. You have to realize: Being arrested isn’t just about the inconvenience of being incarcerated — it’s that now you’re in the system. I mean, ask any marginalized community — those drug laws were put on the books to keep you down.

‘Pharmacy Chronicles’ (2026)

Over a shuffling country-blues groove, Robinson sings about “perfume, Champagne and sin” in this standout from “A Pound of Feathers.”

Would you have foreseen that, after you got back together, you and Rich would release two albums in less than two years?
I don’t know about that. But leave Rich and I to our own devices, and that’s what we do. Our whole entrée into this world wasn’t because I could sing or he was a great guitarist — we wanted to write songs. I’ve written a lot of songs by myself, and probably out of those songs, there’s a few that I’m proud of. And I think Rich would say the same thing for himself. But there’s just something about the inspiration I get from Rich’s playing that makes us a successful songwriting team.

“Pharmacy Chronicles” has some bedraggled wisdom to it. I’m not sure you could have written it as a younger man.
I wasn’t that cynical then. It’s making fun of yourself in a way — like some old Victorian actor in the bowels of the theater taking his makeup off and wondering what it all means.

Do you think your voice has changed along with your perspective?
Of course my voice has changed — through age and, in the ’90s, through abuse. I can’t hit the super-highest notes I could as a young person. But we still sing the old songs in the original keys. Not that I know what those keys are.

K-POP influencer Mina Chan, 26, has taken her own life during a disturbing livestream.

She said she had been harassed by the fans of a popular boy band for “overstepping boundaries” in the days before her death.

The Japanese social media star died by suicide in the early hours of August 5.

She was based in South Korea and known for running a fan account for K-pop boyband Enhypen.

More to follow… For the latest news on this story keep checking back at The Sun Online

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Jennifer Finch, the bassist for veteran LA rock act L7, has brain cancer and will not perform with the band on its farewell tour this year.

“Our beloved bandmate, sister and friend Jennifer Finch has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer,” the band wrote in a statement on its Instagram on Monday. “Following multiple surgeries and serious complications, Jennifer now requires extensive medical care, rehabilitation and professional in-home support.”

The group said that its final tour, scheduled for fall, “was planned along with Jennifer when all four of us were in good health and spirits.” Finch asked the band to continue with these performances, according to the statement.

“We will honor her request while making her care and well-being our immediate priority,” the band wrote. “We love her, and we want her to feel the full strength of the community that has loved and supported her for so many years.”

L7, a hugely influential act in the alt-rock wave of the ‘90s, was formed in 1985 by guitarists and singers Suzi Gardner and Donita Sparks, drummer Dee Plakas and Finch. Its firey singles “Pretend We’re Dead” and “Wargasm” helped kick off the riot grrl movement of the era, until they went on hiatus in 2001. The band reunited in 2014, and will begin The Last Hurrah tour in San Diego on Oct. 6.

The band also posted a GoFundMe for donations to help with her medical care . “The level of care Jennifer needs has gone beyond what friends and family can safely provide around the clock,” the band wrote. “As we face the difficult reality that Jennifer may have more good days behind her than ahead, we are asking for help to make the time she has with her friends, family, and fans as comfortable, meaningful, and full of love as possible.”

THE word “splat” has been on Ian Gillan’s mind for a few years now.

To him, it is a word to conjure with, one to fuel his wild flights of imagination.

To most of us, it summons visions of insects hitting windscreens or ripe tomatoes falling to the floor.

As you will discover, however, the Deep Purple singer and lyricist — he of the legendary full-throated holler — has given “splat” a much deeper meaning.

What if it represents the end of humanity as we know it?

Then, as he suggests with an “optimistic” spin on the notion, “What if we morph into something else that’s metaphysical?”

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When Gillan first considered Splat! as an album title, he thought it sounded “too terminal”.

He says: “I knew how the interviews would go — ‘So this is your last record, right?’ ”

It soon becomes clear from talking to the hard rock survivor that Deep Purple, the last band standing in a so-called “unholy trinity” alongside Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, are very much alive and kicking.

When it came to writing themed lyrics for Purple’s 24th studio LP, Splat! screamed out from the pages of the notebook Gillan keeps to record his ideas.

Now, in tall, spidery type, it adorns an album cover housing some of the band’s heaviest, most riff-driven, yet most concise music in years.

As Gillan attests, Splat! summons the devil-may-care spirit of iconic early albums Deep Purple In Rock and Machine Head — and songs like Child In Time, Smoke On The Water and Black Night.

“What I’m hearing now is the band as it was in ’69,” he says.

There’s no doubting that the current line-up of Gillan, founder member Ian Paice (drums), another stalwart in Roger Glover (bass), Don Airey (keyboard player since 2001) and recent recruit Simon McBride (guitar) has hit a purple patch.

“You can give all kinds of reasons, but, quite simply, I think it’s human chemistry,” says Gillan, who lives in Portugal and turned 80 last August.

“The songs are coming easy.

The band is cranking live.

When all the elements work well, they feed off each other.”

He salutes Northern Irish guitarist McBride, who replaced Steve Morse in time for previous album =1, for adding a dynamic gut-punch to proceedings.

He agrees with me that the songs on Splat! don’t “outstay their welcome”, crediting legendary Canadian producer Bob Ezrin (Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd, Kiss) for “keeping the arrangements snappy”.

Gillan recalls how it used to be: “With the band having no leader — we never have really — it was often a case of sitting there and one of us would say, ‘Let’s make this bit longer, let’s put another section in there’.

“We might spend weeks arguing or debating an arrangement.

But Bob just comes in and says, ‘I’m not liking that’, and cuts it out.”

Gillan considers Purple to be “an instrumental band”, with the music always getting written first.

Then it’s time for him to step in with the lyrics and those still mighty vocals, delivered with all the theatricality you might expect from someone who took the part of Jesus on the original Jesus Christ Superstar album.

It’s fair to say that Splat!, also the name of the album’s emphatic closing track, represents one of Gillan’s most ambitious concepts, so let’s return to his thought process.

“For some time now, I’ve been trying to make an album sound as if all the songs belong,” he says.

“There’s one exception on this record and I’m not happy about it,” he announces by way of a slight digression.

When I suggest that the track in question might be Third Call, which seems more to do with sex than metaphysics, Gillan replies: “Oh, how did you guess?

It should have been called Sore Thumb.

“I’ve done my own little album on my computer, replacing it with a song destined to be a B-side or bonus track called Hoot ’n’ Slither, which does fit.”

So, let’s hear about his mind-boggling concept, so big that it almost hurts the brain.

“I’ll probably find myself in pseud’s corner again,” he mutters with a smile, before launching into his explanation.

“I’ve been fascinated by the word eternity since I was eight.

I couldn’t understand how things could go on forever.

As a child, it didn’t seem possible to me.

“One summer night, I started thinking about the end of the road, the end of the country, beaches, the sea, the sky, the stars.

“I started panicking, so I built a brick wall around my universe, as many kids have, I’m sure.

“That was it, I was safe.

And then, a horrible thought occurred to me: ‘What’s behind the bricks?’ ”

Gillan says that “later in life”, Edwin Abbott’s classic novella Flatland, a satirical study of a two- dimensional world written in 1884, got him thinking about other dimensions, the afterlife and spiritual worlds.

Then he considered that the population of Earth had “virtually tripled” during his lifetime.

He continues: “For some years, this explosion has seemed unsustainable to me and that the only way to escape is not by flying through the solar system in tin cans.

“It has to be metaphysical.

I’m hopeful.

Perhaps we might become some sort of intelligent energy.”

Gillan draws my attention to the song The Only Horse In Town, one of the last recorded for Splat! and driven by Airey’s fulsome keys and McBride’s shimmering riffs.

It was inspired by a real-life encounter with someone close to death near Noble Street Studios in Toronto where Purple were doing a recording session.

“The snow came down and we saw there were these vagrants living under a blue tarp,” he says.

“The place looked like a rubbish dump.

“We offered them some hot food when we went out to get our takeaway for lunch — and they didn’t want it.

They just wanted dollars for crack.

“I thought of this one guy who probably had days to live.

I imagined his final hit.

“Then (in my mind) I stepped into his shoes and started walking across America until I got to the high plains of New Mexico and found this derelict film set.

“Along with a clapped-out old horse, this guy finds solace, a haven.

It fits very nicely with the overall pattern of the album.”

Next, we take a dive into more of the Splat! songs, starting with the three-minute opening blast, Arrogant Boy, about a bloke called Billy.

“The attitude in the music screamed frustration to me,” says Gillan.

“I had this idea of an ordinary guy down the pub who doesn’t give a monkey’s toss about what goes on at the higher levels of society.

He’s sick of the political pendulum.

“Everyone knows that nothing’s happened in the last fifty, sixty years.

We’ve built nothing.

We’ve done nothing.

We’ve gone backwards in almost everything.

The great institutions are useless piles of rubble.

“So Billy is sticking his head up out of a hole and saying, ‘Get on with it!’”

This brings us to the wild Diablo, recorded in Nashville and featuring guitar solos from none other than country rock star Keith Urban, whose studio the band were occupying.

Here, Gillan truly lets his imagination run riot.

“Diablo is a place where young people go for their rite of passage.

It’s dangerous and many don’t come back,” he says.

“This is the story of Dra-ma.

She pickles her knuckles and has 20 fights before beating up Guts McKenzie in the final.

She celebrates with a bucket of wine and falls into the glitter pool.

It’s all a bit surreal.”

You may think Gillan’s gone off on one but this ceaselessly entertaining character is also partial to a bit of humour.

The Rider is not about someone on a horse, but more about the notorious demands of rock stars when they go on tour.

He says: “I’m not going to mention his name, but he’s a very famous musician in a very famous band.

I was sitting having a beer with him and he said, ‘Someone got a fear of flying so we hired a psychologist.

The next week, there were four psychologists on the plane, one for each member of the band.

Then someone got a bad back so we got a physiotherapist.

The next week, there were four of them.’’

So what about his band’s riders?

“Deep Purple have never been extravagant,” he answers.

“When I was with Black Sabbath, it was a slightly different story, more funny than extravagant.

“I remember Geezer [Butler] complaining that the ham was round and the bread was square, that his sandwich was an incongruous mess which didn’t look right.

“My rider has always been very simple.

It’s bread and cheese, some tea bags — it has to be PG Tips — and a kettle.”

Elsewhere on Splat!, Jessica’s Bra has got to be one of the most eye-catching song titles of the year.

It was supposed to be Bar but, as Gillan admits: “I can’t see too well and make loads of typos these days.

“It’s a sort of Irish pub song.

I grew up in pubs with a beer in one hand, a fag in the other, and in fantastic company.

“My pals were drinking pals — I didn’t smoke a joint until I was 38.

We were pub guys who got locked in, behaved outrageously, but it stayed within the walls.

No harm done.”

Guilt Trippin’, with its gorgeous piano intro and outro and screaming vocals, is about “God and Charlie Darwin having a pint”.

Gillan says: “God is saying, ‘We’ve got to get the numbers right next time,’ but Darwin just goes, ‘Humpty, humpty’.

He doesn’t want to interfere!”

The Lunatic, inspired by the plight of George Orwell’s 1984 protagonist Winston Smith, summons a bout of indignation from Gillan.

“I can’t believe the prescient nature of that book, which was published in 1949,” he says.

“More recently, the NHS proscribed the word lunatic.

I take great offence at that.

Most of my friends are lunatics and always have been — and I happily follow the moon around.”

Through the song Scriblin’ Gib’rish, Gillan vents his spleen at those online matrixes where you have to identify motorbikes or traffic lights, “proving that I am a human being to a f***ing robot”.

Of note here is that he’s heading to UK theatres next spring for his Talking Gib’rish spoken-word tour, a departure from the arena-sized norm.

It’s an opportunity for him to regale audiences with stories from more than six decades in the business.

On a personal level, it’s clear that Gillan is pressing on despite the rigours of live performance and, as he reports, “failing eyesight”.

“Over the past few days, I’ve been taking a deep breath and looking at the future,” he says.

“A few years ago I was doing a talk and the theme was positive ageing.

I realised that when people retire, they stop making long-term plans — even if it’s small things to do with the house or garden.

“But I keep thinking some years ahead with projects, and don’t worry whether I complete them.

“That’s a self-creating energy, like nuclear energy.

It’s incredible.

So, I’m making long-term plans and to hell with it!”

If that’s the template for his mind, what about his body?

Alluding to his younger self — that skinny figure in tight flared jeans with a shaggy mane — he says: “Obviously, I used to be quite athletic when I was young, but I can’t pole vault anymore!

“Well into my sixties, I used to run upstairs two at a time, and now I run down ten at a time.

“So, you’ve got to have a laugh.

Otherwise, you’d sit down and cry.”

One thing is for certain, Ian Gillan and Deep Purple are NOT about to go Splat!

DEEP PURPLE

Splat!

★★★★☆

SUPERMODEL Irina Shayk runs rings around her rivals in a swimsuit held together by gold bands. 

She also wore gold hoop earrings in a shoot for Spanish department store El Corte Ingles and showed off her wild side in a tiger-print bikini. 

Russian Irina, 40, is mum to nine-year-old Lea — whose dad is Hollywood actor Bradley Cooper. 

She has become one of the modern modelling industry’s greats after being discovered in her small Russian hometown of Yemanzhelinsk. 

Irina, whose full name is Irina Valeryevna Irinahlislamova, received international recognition when she became the first Russian model to appear on the cover of the 2011 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. 

As a child, she pursued her love of music while her mum Olga worked two jobs to provide for the family.

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While she was training at a beauty school, Irina was noticed by a model talent scout.

In 2004, she won the Miss Chalyabinsk contest, which propelled her into the fashion industry.

She has become a runway staple, working with prestigious fashion houses worldwide.

It’s no surprise that Irina has become the model with the 8th biggest social media presence, as she’s graced numerous magazine front covers, including GQ.

The stunning star has also been ranked first in the 50 Hottest Russian Women list, which was compiled by Complex magazine.

When she’s not busy walking the catwalk or filming, Irina gets stuck in with charity work.

Irina has been heavily involved with the construction of a maternity ward in her hometown, Yemanzhelinsk, as well as helping to renovate the children’s section.