In late February of 2026, it was announced that the Black Crowes were among those nominated for induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. While it was their second nomination in as many years, to some, the Crowes—along with their fellow 1990s rock band nominees, Oasis—were like relics vying for space in a hall that was determined to update its criteria, to understandably allow for more inclusivity. After all, other nominees included Mariah Carey, New Edition, and the Wu-Tang Clan. Then again, the Black Crowes seemed like relics when their debut album was released in 1990.
Caught between the glam metal of the late 1980s and the impending grunge explosion about to take off within the year, Shake Your Money Maker defied all odds to become a bona fide hit for a band that sounded like it arrived in a time machine from 20 years earlier. Now, after a reset with 2024’s better-than-expected Happiness Bastards, the Robinson Brothers return with A Pound of Feathers.
Longtime fans of the Black Crowes know what they’re getting when a new record is announced. Not that the group are incapable of throwing curve balls, as a quick dig through their catalogue proves—from the psychedelic textures that outlined 2001’s Lions to the sprawling, lazy ambition of Before the Frost… Until the Freeze in 2009.
Since 2024, however, the Crowes (now basically Chris and Rich Robinson—although session players augment them, the publicity shots make it clear this is now a two-person operation) have leaned into the familiar: hard, bluesy rock with just enough acoustic accoutrements to pacify the fans they found on the road with Jimmy Page over a quarter century ago. As a result, A Pound of Feathers plays like a greatest hits of the Robinsons, just dressed up in new clothes.
Producer Jay Joyce, who brought a surprising pop-punk sensibility to much of Happiness Bastards, returns, and while his presence again allows a fresh approach to the arrangements and production, Feathers rocks just slightly harder than its predecessor. Maybe because the album was reportedly made in only eight days, probably because the brothers and Joyce are more comfortable together in the studio. However, this sounds more like the Robinsons and less like a producer trying to update their sound, no matter how slightly.
There’s the unmistakable Black Crowes swagger of the opening one-two punch of “Profane Prophecy” and “Cruel Streak”, followed by the sublime, acoustic-based “Pharmacy Chronicles,” which sounds like a lost track from the Three Snakes and One Charm era. The AC/DC-like riffage of “Do the Parasite!” shares space with the Tumbleweed Connection pretensions of “High and Lonesome.”
Hats are tipped to the likes of Gram Parsons and his Byrds and Flying Burritos with cosmic country of “Queen of the B Sides”. Then it’s back to their Rolling Stones fixation, filtered through a Southern twang, on “It’s Like That”. Meanwhile, Led Zeppelin’s unavoidable shadow casts a heavy shadow over “Blood Red Regrets”, one of the record’s most powerful moments.
It’s the moody final pair of tracks, however, that reveal this latter-day Black Crowes at their best. “Eros Blues” and “Doomsday Doggerel” stand as examples of how to take what’s come before and find something new to pull from it. Over the better part of the last 40 years, that’s been one of the Robinson Brothers’ most lasting strengths. It’s a talent that may not prove hall-of-fame worthy, but it’s close enough for rock and roll.