Anyone with a kneejerk horror of the concept of jam bands could do worse than immerse themselves in Chris “Black Crowes” Robinson’s Brotherhood, now four albums old. From a sprawling homestead of laid-back southern rock, the Brotherhood meander inwards into folk and psychedelia, and now, outwards into vintage soul, vintage funk (check the standout Narcissus Soaking Wet) and sepia-tinted variants of boogie. If nothing else, this freeform, unapologetically hirsute approach is a salutary corrective to the wipe-clean version of the American musical motherlode peddled by umpteen more mainstream acts.
