plenty

“Well, I guess it’s a brother thing.”

The Black Crowes singer Chris Robinson is reflecting on his rollercoaster relationship with his younger sibling, guitarist Rich.

Their explosive chemistry once earned the outfit a fitting accolade — “The Most Rock ’n’ Roll Rock ’n’ Roll Band in the World”.

Chris is first to admit they’ve had their ups and downs since forming in 1984 under their original name, Mr Crowe’s Garden, as schoolkids in Atlanta, Georgia.

“Rich and I, for better or worse, were stubborn and arrogant but always strong believers in the art,” he admits.

“This has always been our path and, no matter what, we have to do it like this.

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“In rock ’n’ roll, there are plenty of show dogs, pure bred and beautiful. We’re f***ing feral.”

Following in the footsteps of other warring brothers — Ray and Dave Davies or Noel and Liam Gallagher — the Robinsons weren’t on speaking terms for five years after their so-called “contractual obligations” tour ended in 2014.

“Sometimes, you have to take your lumps,” continues Chris, employing that very American phrase for suffering setbacks. “But, right now, we’re in the zone. The chemistry is 100 per cent there.

“The way we feel goes right back to when we started — it’s f*** it, just play it — even if we are more well-mannered.”

The Black Crowes’ big reunion began in late 2019 with warm-up shows for a planned 30th anniversary tour of their debut album, the seminal Shake Your Money Maker, the following year.

But the pandemic slammed on the brakes before the dates finally happened across the US in 2021, uncorking the band’s celebrated freewheeling energy.

Back to the live arena came Jealous Again, Hard To Handle, She Talks To Angels and Twice As Hard, songs that somehow bottled up the band’s influences — Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones and Little Feat among them — but still refreshingly their own.

In 2024, with their creative juices flowing, The Black Crowes released their first album of original material in 15 years, Happiness Bastards.

Now the Robinsons are back again — with a bang.

The follow-up, A Pound Of Feathers, comes tearing out of the blocks with the rocket-fuelled, riff-driven Profane Prophecy, setting the tone for another of The Black Crowes’ “love letters to rock and roll”.

The album arrives with some sound advice — “This isn’t a record you play on Sunday morning, this is a f***ing Saturday night burner!”

In a world where smoothly produced pop dominates the airwaves, The Black Crowes are unashamedly sticking two fingers up at it.

“None of what’s going on in that world is relevant to me,” decides Chris, “and rock ’n’ roll is still huge for millions and millions of people.”

He is talking to me via video call from Aspen, Colorado, the premier ski resort in the States, playground of the rich and famous.

“My wife is an avid skier. She’s the Franz Klammer of the family,” he reports with a reference to the Austrian downhill legend.

“I get to do the cooking, the reading and the hanging out.” (And talking to people like me about The Black Crowes). Brother Rich is at home in Nashville and begins his call by apologising for being under the weather.

“I’m going to be coughing randomly,” he says. “I’m in the middle of flu that’s going around.”

After clearing his throat, Rich, the less flamboyant one who lets his guitar wizardry do most of his talking, gamely picks up on Chris’s theme.

“When we got back together, we both agreed we needed to do it properly,” he affirms.

“We knew that bringing back a toxic dynamic wouldn’t be healthy for anyone.

“We couldn’t have the overarching idea that when Chris and Rich get together, it’s a bad thing.

“We’ve always written all the songs, we own the name so coming back with a more mature approach has been very helpful.”

Rich acknowledges that the music landscape for the older, wiser Black Crowes is vastly different from when they started out. “There’s a bunch of people in the industry who like to think rock ’n’ roll is dead,” he says.

“But then there’s a bunch of people trying to keep it alive. Guns N’ Roses, the Rolling Stones, Metallica and Def Leppard are still selling out stadiums.

“Tens of millions of people still want to see bands like them. Rock ’n’ roll is one thing that no one could tame.

“And it’s still like that for us. We can go into a studio with almost nothing and, in a week, make a record.

“There’s a human, organic quality to rock ’n’ roll. We don’t have auto-tune and we don’t have to set our s**t to a grid.”

Looking back at their unfettered past, Chris exclaims: “I have to say I’m so f***ing proud of The Black Crowes, man!

“Rich and I started this band when we were teenagers in Mom and Dad’s house, as a vehicle to write songs.

“And we found our way to being musicians and performers.”

Yet the creation of A Pound Of Feathers has still blown Chris away, most notably because of the stellar contributions from Rich.

The album was made in double-quick time, carried along by the brothers’ spontaneous fusion of riffs and lyrics.

Chris says: “I’ve been on stage and sat in studios my whole life with my brother playing amazing guitar.

“But, with this album, I sat there with my mouth hanging open.

“Granted I’m very close to the flame but everything he did, I was like, ‘Wow, this guy’s taking it to a new place.’”

During the sessions, The Black Crowes were visited by Chris’s friend, Todd Snider, the singer/songwriter who died last November from pneumonia aged just 59.

Chris cherished the chance to hang out with Todd — and to get some memorable feedback from him.

“He was a storyteller, a real poet, and he and I had a great friendship. He also really liked The Black Crowes.

“He asked if he could come and check out the recording. I went, ‘Dude, yeah fine, but you’re going to be the only one here’. So he sat there taking in me and Rich putting music together.

“At the end of the day, he said, ‘Are you f***ing warlocks? Is this some kind of ESP or is it a parlour trick? You don’t say anything yet, 30 minutes later, there’s this massive song blasting out of the speakers’.”

For Rich, the studio is his happy place. “I’ve always loved being in a studio,” he says.

“It’s where you bring to ­fruition all the things you have in your head.

“With this record, we came in without any concrete ideas. By allowing ourselves just to play in the sandbox, it became fun and exciting.”

Rich gives a shoutout to producer Jay Joyce, who also helmed Happiness Bastards.

He says: “Nine and a half times out of ten, he agrees with us when we’re excited about something.

“He’s there with us, not bogging us down by trying to insert himself when its unnecessary.”

So what of the songs? There’s the aforementioned opener Profane Prophecy which captures the unvarnished sound of The Black Crowes’ live mayhem, yet recorded in the calmer confines of a studio.

You hear Chris nodding to past rock ’n’ roll excesses by hollering, tongue firmly in cheek, “My pedigree in debauchery is my claim to fame.”

He smiles, “Of course I have to embrace that life. That’s why I sing, ‘I eat casino breakfast off the kitchen floor’.”

But he maintains that while giving “a vision of a debauched rock ’n’ roller”, he’s also “confusing fact with fiction”.

The four-minute shindig concludes with the ensemble chant of the phrase that yielded the album title, “a pound of feathers or a pound of lead”.

Chris got the line from In Here The World Begins, a song by long-defunct British electro-pop band Broadcast.

“I loved the phrase and what it could mean because a pound is a pound,” he says. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s lead or feathers. There’s some weird wisdom to it.”

We turn our attention to Cruel Streak, pounding rock underpinned by funky rhythm.

“I’m adjacent to funk at all times,” says Chris. “Growing up in Atlanta, there was this multi­racial band called Mother’s Finest who played heavy funk with ‘Baby Jean’ Kennedy as lead singer.

“There’s a lot of Mother’s Finest in The Black Crowes.”

On the R&B-flavoured It’s Like That, which comes with heavy basslines and a hint of reggae, the brothers employed an amphibian guest, which, as Chris explains, fits with their anything goes attitude.

“I was staying in Nashville, and the doors were open. I heard this frog, so I recorded him. That’s my Nashville rasta frog on the solo.”

Rich says: “There are tree frogs all over the South. They were blaring one night and Chris said, ‘Man, I want to use that sound’.

“So he took his phone and pressed record. We found the right space for it on the song.” On the loose, laidback country-tinged Pharmacy Chronicles, recalling the vibe of the Rolling Stones’ Exile On Main St., Chris sings “let the demons find you” because, he insists, we mustn’t think everything is “sugar-coated, glossy and gorgeous”.

“Especially something as messy as a 40-year career in rock ’n’ roll,” he adds. “I can’t believe some of the s**t I was doing. Get some surgical gloves and get to it!”

But Chris is not one to dwell on the past, with all its euphoric highs and crashing lows. “I am devoid of nostalgia,” he says.

“I like to think I interact with the world as a poet. I’m always writing — it could be because I overheard a conversation at an airport check-in.

“I’m no Bruce Springsteen,” he confesses. “But I connect with the world through whatever inspires me.”

And, as he puts it, “a lot of the darkness that is the United States right now” informs A Pound Of Feathers.

It explains why final track Doomsday Doggerel with its line “a front row seat to the end of times” is in stark contrast to the closing song on Happiness Bastards.

“On that last record, Kindred Friend was a beautiful pastoral thing with harmonica, about me and Rich, the band and our audience,” says Chris.

“Doomsday Doggerel is much darker. We haven’t remembered lessons from our past and the f***ing racism means we’re operating at a very low frequency.

“I just hope that someone can play this record on a Saturday night, keep out the low frequency and get a better hum going.”

As Pharmacy Chronicles ebbs to a close, you hear a defiant chorus of “the good times never end”.

As far as Chris and Rich and the rest of The Black Crowes family are concerned, rock ’n’ roll is the perfect antidote to personal and universal turmoil.

“We’re loud, we can be sloppy but we are like an old cartoon of two people fighting on a train,” says Chris.

“The train goes round a bend, leaning all the way over a cliff, but then it comes back up. That’s us.”

THE BLACK CROWES

A Pound Of Feathers

★★★★☆

PHOENIX — It hasn’t been the smoothest spring training for right-hander Roki Sasaki as he prepares for his second season with the Dodgers.

Sasaki’s first two starts in Cactus League play featured some problems with command and plenty of hard contact. But with left-hander Blake Snell and right-hander Gavin Stone sidelined with shoulder issues, Dodgers manager Dave Roberts left no doubt where Sasaki stood as he got ready to pitch in a B-game against White Sox minor leaguers on Tuesday.

“Having Blake [Snell] late to the season, which we know, [and] Gavin Stone, late to the season, as we know, we’re going to need Roki,” Roberts said. “With the buildup, I just don’t see a world in which he doesn’t break with us as a starter, and so, we’re going to need those innings.”

Sasaki took a promising step forward on a minor-league field at Camelback Ranch.

The hard-throwing right-hander threw 59 pitches, 40 for strikes, across four innings while striking out nine of the 13 batters he faced and allowing two to reach base.

Although Roberts did not see Sasaki’s outing, he heard rave reviews from members of the organization who attended.

“They said it was electric,” Roberts said after the Dodgers’ 4-1 win over the Arizona Diamondbacks at Camelback Ranch. “They said [he was touching] 98 to 100 [mph]. The fastball was spraying a little early, but then he locked it in. And then the split was on-play, short, lot of swing-and-miss. Couldn’t have asked for a better day.”

Sasaki surrendered a single through the right side of the infield to the first batter he faced, then proceeded to strike out the next seven batters. His only other hiccup came in the third inning, when he hit Jason Matthews with a stray breaking ball on a full count.

“I actually felt pretty bad the last couple days, but today I was able to make an adjustment, so that’s what I really need for right now,” Sasaki said via an interpreter after his outing. “I think I can keep moving forward.”

Sasaki was shelled in his second Cactus League start last week, yielding four runs, three walks, a single and a grand slam to the Cleveland Guardians at Goodyear Ballpark. He was lifted from the game without recording an out, only to get re-inserted in the second inning to complete two scoreless innings.

Sasaki noted mechanical issues as the reason for his struggles after the game. Tuesday, he said he felt much better, focusing on his core and obliques.

“I was actually focusing on core, oblique stuff,” Sasaki said. “I think it’s all about mechanics. If my mechanics are really good, my command is good too.”

Roberts took away plenty of value from the outing, even one against a lineup of minor leaguers.

“There’s still value in getting hitters out and seeing guys swing and miss,” Roberts said. “I think we accomplished what we wanted to today, we built him up. Obviously, built up some confidence. So, just go from there.”

Who are the top teams to watch in City Section high school baseball and likely contenders to reach Dodger Stadium?

1. BIRMINGHAM: The Patriots have two quality starting pitchers, led by sophomore Carlos Acuna, plus an experienced closer, so if they play defense and get a little hitting, reaching Dodger Stadium will be no surprise.

2. EL CAMINO REAL: The defending City champions lost key players from the pitching staff to graduation but members from an outstanding junior varsity team are already showing signs they can handle the pressure of varsity ball.

3. NARBONNE: The Gauchos have an early-season win over Bell that will help them come playoff time.

4. BELL: Two years ago, Bell won it all, and several players from that team are off to good starts, led by Jayden Rojas. A 1-0 win over Palos Verdes was impressive behind pitcher Rigoberto Baltazar.

5. SYLMAR: Pitcher Alex Martinez and power-hitting outfielder Rickee Luevano are capable of having big seasons.

6. CARSON: The Colts have plenty of experience back to contend in Marine League.

7. SUN VALLEY POLY: Wins over Agoura and Quartz Hill show the Parrots are favorites to win East Valley League.

8. CLEVELAND: Just trust All-City player Joshua Pearlstein to make the Cavaliers strong in West Valley League.

9. VENICE: The Gondoliers went 29-4 last season and will need strong play from returnee Xander Lippman.

10. SAN FERNANDO: Tigers can be Sylmar’s strongest opponent in the Valley Mission League.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email eric.sondheimer@latimes.com.

“How to Make a Killing” boasts an opening so strong that it buys enough audience goodwill to coast through nearly its entire running time. That’s priceless in a screwball murder movie in which everyone’s soul is for sale.

Death row inmate Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell) is four hours away from execution. A priest (Sean C. Michael) solemnly arrives to take his final confession and finds the condemned man lounging in a sleeping eye mask, griping that his last meal served him the wrong flavor of cheesecake. “Kill me now,” Becket quips.

This will be a tale of crime and punishment told in flashback, rewinding to Becket’s mother, an heiress excised from an eleven-figure fortune for giving birth as an unwed teenager. And it will be, as Becket insists, “a tragedy.”

But while the story’s framework is familiar, what gives this intro sequence zip is Powell’s sly nonchalance, the little bounce he makes on his cot when Becket pivots to give the flabbergasted priest his full attention. He has ours, too. Powell has yet to find his perfect role (this one’s close) but his confidence is why the industry is convinced that he’s the reincarnation of a classic leading man: Tom Cruise or Cary Grant if we’re lucky, or at least Bugs Bunny.

Writer-director John Patton Ford’s morally bleak comedy is itself a reincarnation of the 1949 British caper “Kind Hearts and Coronets,” which egged on an exiled sire as he avenges himself upon his royal family by murdering everyone between himself and dukedom. The 21st century American privilege that Becket is chasing in the remake doesn’t rely on formal titles. He wants cold hard cash, plus a couple of private islands, planes and ultra-luxury yachts. Besides, he’s already got a first name that sounds like a last name, signifying the American upper crust.

This Dickensian vengeance setup gives us an awful lot of people to murder, all caricatures of the elite. The original “Coronets” offed a posh feminist who scattered political leaflets across London from a hot air balloon, Ford spins that passé joke into a gag where Becket’s spoiled cousin (Raff Law) hovers in a helicopter sprinkling money over a pool party and then for good measure, cannonballs into the water to stuff bills in the crowd’s open and appreciative mouths. (For his next trick, perhaps Ford will remake Terry Southern’s outlandish satire “The Magic Christian,” which has a scene like that but five times filthier.)

Lore goes that when Alec Guinness received the “Coronets” script with an offer to play four of the ill-fated tycoons, he wrote back greedily and said, “Why not eight?” To our good fortune, Guinness did play all eight, even the suffragette. “How to Make a Killing” shares the wealth, giving cameos to a very funny Zach Woods as the scion who fancies himself a hipster artist (he takes photos of the unhoused) and Topher Grace as the Redfellow who found faith or, rather, a more sanctimonious spin on grift as a megachurch pastor. Likening himself to Jesus, Grace’s bleached blond huffs, “Don’t hate on me just because my dad’s a big deal.”

There’s a tease of real-world critique in how the preacher has decorated his office with framed photos of himself with various presidents and drug-runners, alluding to the inescapable suspicion that the world is run by a powerful club whose only admissions requirement is a bank balance with plenty of zeros. The jabs stop at allusions — they’re entertaining but as thin as a communion wafer. Still, I guffawed when Becket popped back into his present-day cell to poke fun at his audience, the Catholic priest: “The last thing the Church wanted was an investigation,” he says with a smirk. “I’m sure you know all about that.”

Like his lead character, Ford himself had to ascend in clout to direct this script, which he launched on the Black List in 2014. He instead made his debut with the much-smaller 2022 indie “Emily the Criminal,” which starred Aubrey Plaza as an art student desperate to pay off her student loans. His heart is with the strivers who find that our K-shaped economy makes it impossible to go straight.

Yet he hasn’t cracked whether the corpses in “How to Make a Killing” are victims themselves. The rich Redfellows get dispatched one by one in scenes that are fun but empty — neither cathartic nor comic, simply boxes to be checked off to great big poundings of thunder and harpsichords.

Surely, I thought, the film will figure out how it feels by the time it offs a Redfellow who’s merely ordinary-terrible: Bill Camp’s drunken, cowardly banker. But it doesn’t and the real victim of the indecision is Powell, who is rarely given a reaction to play. (Guilt? Rage? Glee?) He needs to give us an extra hint how he’s feeling — as an actor, Powell is so slick that even his regular smile comes across phony. I’d say he couldn’t be sincere if he tried, except Powell actually does try for one scene and the bleary, terrified look in his eyes is devastating.

While the promise of that gangbusters opening sequence goes a tad unfulfilled, “Killing” has two strong twists and plenty of reasons to enjoy the romp. I suspect that the movie might be too smart for its own good, or perhaps hemmed in by a cynicism that, everywhere we look lately, it appears that crime does pay. As Becket says early on, “We’re all adults here.” Ford sees all the wrong moves and isn’t sure-footed in choosing the right one, even though I think he has. Today’s crowd wants to smash Marie Antoinette’s cake and eat it, too.

At least along the way, there’s a playful love triangle between Julia (Margaret Qualley), the privileged nightmare who’s had Becket wrapped around her pinky finger since grade school, and Ruth (Jessica Henwick), a humble school teacher. Both characters stake out their polarized corners — the rich bitch versus the sweetheart — with Qualley somehow always arranging her legs to be seductively horizontal in her too-few scenes. Henwick is saddled with the more prosaic role and dialogue (“It’s scary to dream small,” she says). Nevertheless, her presence is so compelling that we root for Ruth every time she’s onscreen.

I’m glad that Ford is part of today’s guillotine crew making capers about economic inequality. But the best shot in the movie shows his promise as a romantic comedian: Becket and Ruth bump into each other in the rain and just as they make eye contact, the sun comes out and they share a smile. It’s a tiny moment of magic that gives you hope that these young lovers can work it out. Better still, it even gives you hope for humanity, even if the movie’s overall forecast for society is stormy.