New Earth Mud

The Black Crowes vocalist’s solo effort forsakes his band’s ironic raucousness for sincere mawkishness. On numerous meandering, often acoustic odes to good love, Robinson confuses contentedness with musical complacency. It’s nice that he loves his wife (”Katie Dear”), but Chris, you have to dramatize that adoration with more than a languid guitar strum and the lame simile ”She smiles like heaven” to engage someone other than Ms. Hudson. Instead of the Crowes’ entertaining aping of the Faces and Bad Company, Robinson puts on a dreamy face and is just boring company.