165. The Magpie Salute

Under The Bridge

13 April 2017

Under the Bridge, for those who haven’t ventured beneath Stamford Bridge is Chelsea FC’s subterranean music bunker, a glossy, low-ceilinged, blue-lit lair where you can watch swampy blues-rock whilst someone in a suit upstairs orders champagne in the owner’s box.

But tonight was about redemption. Rich Robinson’s, the Black Crowes’ guitar-slinging riff merchant and the less unhinged of the Robinson brothers, had reassembled a gang of southern rock outlaws, dusted off the old magic, and christened them The Magpie Salute in an act of his own redemption from the implosion of the band and relationship with his brother. It was, in essence, The Black Crowes without the fraternal homicide risk.

From the moment the band took the stage, it was clear this wasn’t some washed-up tribute to past glories. This was a full-blooded, bourbon-soaked revival. The sound was big, dirty and glorious. Twin guitars weaving around each other like snakes in heat. Keys swirling like gospel hymns in a dive bar. And those harmonies, pure Georgia gold.

They tore through a set that was equal parts revival meeting and barroom brawl: “Omission,” “High Water,” “In Here,” and a few well-placed nods to Crowes classics, all delivered with the swagger of a band that knows they’re not reinventing the wheel, just lubricating it with good bourbon.

Rich, stoic and soulful, handled his guitar like a man trying to summon spirits from the fretboard, while lead singer John Hogg, a man with a voice somewhere between Chris Cornell and a thunderstorm, proved that he’s got the pipes, the presence, and the look of someone who’s seen too many sunrises through the haze of a tour-bus window.

Somewhere between “Wiser Time” and “Remedy,” it was very apparent: this was a band who genuinely were in it for the love of playing together. It was equal parts joy and defiance, a glorious noise made by people who still believe the groove matters.

By the encore, the place was a sweatbox of grinning strangers, clapping like gospel converts. The Magpie Salute had pulled off that rarest of feats: a spin-off that didn’t feel like a cover band, but a continuation of something righteous.