When the “Other Brother” in the Band Steps Into the Light, Magic Happens.
Flashback Friday: Flux by Rich Robinson
It’s hard to believe it’s been a decade since Rich Robinson dropped his first “real” solo album, Flux. Looking back at the summer of 2016, the music landscape was a weird, neon-soaked haze of synth-pop dominance. Streaming algorithms were just starting to really flex their muscles, and there was a general sense that “traditional” rock music was being relegated to the back of the record store. Into that environment came Flux, a record that essentially served as Rich Robinson’s “I’m still here, and I don’t need my brother to make a racket” manifesto.
By 2016, The Black Crowes had imploded… Again (aaaaand of course, as of this writing, the cycle has repeated itself, the hatchets have once again been buried, and the Robinson brothers are out on tour with the Crowes in support of their recent release A Pound of Feathers). For Rich though, Flux wasn’t just another solo project; it was the first proper post-Crowes statement of purpose. He wasn’t just “the other guy” in the Robinson equation anymore; he was the guy holding the pen, the guitar, and the keys to the kingdom.
At the time, the industry was obsessed with the “next big thing” in indie-pop, and here was Rich, delivering thirteen tracks of soulful, blues-tinged, psychedelia-dipped rock that felt like it had been aged in a whiskey barrel somewhere near the Tennessee-Georgia border. It wasn’t trying to chase a trend; it was busy trying to find a heartbeat.
Rich didn’t go it alone, of course. The record featured a tight-knit group of conspirators including drummer Joe Magistro and bassist Zak Gabbard, who brought a locked-in, organic feel to the music. You’ve also got keyboard wizardry from Matt Slocum, Marco Benevento, and Danny Mitchell, who collectively ensured that the record had that warm, analog glow. Special mention has to go to Blackberry Smoke’s Charlie Starr, who hopped on the lead single “Music That Will Lift Me.” It’s a track that feels like a summer drive with the windows down—a reminder that, even in a changing world, a good hook is still a good hook.
When Flux arrived in June 2016, it was met with a collective sigh of relief from the faithful. The critics generally tipped their caps, noting that Robinson had successfully stepped out from the shadow of the Crowes’ history. It was a “pro’s pro” record.
Culturally, however, it sat in a strange pocket. It wasn’t topping the Billboard 200, but it didn’t need to. It was competing with the massive, hyper-produced hits of the day, yet it offered something the modern charts were mostly missing: room to breathe. It’s a record about transitions—hence the title—and it holds up today as a testament to someone who decided that even if the band is done, the music doesn’t have to be.
Ten years later, Flux remains a cool slice of classic-minded rock. Tracks like “The Upstairs Land” and “Eclipse the Night” still pack that punch, while “Which Way Your Wind Blows” feels even more poignant in retrospect—a bit of sonic closure for anyone who spent the ‘00s wondering if the brothers would ever figure their shit out.
It’s a record that reminds us that music doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking to be essential. Sometimes, you just need a great player, a solid band, and the confidence to stop worrying about the “what ifs” and just press record.
On Flux, Rich treats his vocals more like another layer of the arrangement. While Chris is the quintessential frontman—that wild, kinetic force of nature whose voice is a direct descendant of Otis Redding’s grit and Rod Stewart’s swagger—Rich’s approach is fundamentally different. He’s not trying to “out-shout” the guitar riffs; he’s trying to weave his voice into the tapestry of the track. His delivery is generally mellower, more internal, and leans heavily into those Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young-style harmonies. He’s effectively using his voice to create the kind of atmospheric tension you’d find on a George Harrison or Pink Floyd record, rather than trying to lead a revivalist tent meeting.
Flux is essentially the Rosetta Stone for understanding what was actually happening inside the Black Crowes’ engine room all those years. For decades, the public narrative was laser-focused on the chemistry—and the volatility—between the brothers. But when you listen to Flux (and Rich’s other solo records) with the benefit of hindsight, the “Rich Robinson sound” becomes unmistakable.
While Chris is deservedly credited with providing the theatrical flair for the Crowes, Rich was the one creating that massive, shimmering, cathedral-like soundscape. We learned that those iconic, drone-heavy, open-tuned riffs that defined Southern Harmony and Musical Companion weren’t just a byproduct of the band; they were the specific DNA of Rich Robinson. On Flux, he takes that signature style and strips away the “blues-revival” pressure, revealing that his true love is really just pure, unadulterated tone and texture. It wasn’t about the blues; it was about the atmosphere.
In the Crowes, Rich’s songwriting often had to share space with the bombast of a big rock ensemble. Flux reveals that he has a much softer, more melodic center than we gave him credit for. He’s a pop-songwriter at heart who just happens to play through a wall of fuzz pedals more often than not. We learned that while his brother was busy selling the attitude, Rich was busy obsessing over the intervals. That pop-sensibility—the way a melody sticks in your ear—was very much his contribution to the hits we all grew up listening to.
Ultimately, Flux taught us that The Black Crowes’ sound wasn’t just a sibling rivalry played out in music; it was a collision between a master performer (Chris) and a master architect (Rich).
Without the friction of his brother, Rich didn’t “fall apart”—he just turned the volume down on the spectacle and turned the volume up on the craft. We learned that the “soul” of that band was a shared project, but the sound—that swirling, kaleidoscopic vibe—was almost entirely the result of Rich sitting in a room, fiddling with his guitar, and waiting for the right mood to strike.
The Album
Spotify:
Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/album/flux/1442917431
The Videos
“Music That Will Lift Me” Live acoustic performance - Paste Studios, New York, NY
“Surrender” Live with the band (part of a full show)
“Time To Leave” Live with the band (from the same show as above)
“Sleepwalker” also from the same show
And for good measure… The Crowes’ “Wiser Time” Live in 2016 (with Rich singing)
The Artist
The URL www.richrobinson.net exists, but there’s no site there… so here’s the next best thing:
https://theblackcrowes.com/
Be sure to check out the Audio Toxicity 2026 Bad Music Detox Protocol (AKA a playlist of songs covered so far…)