By the time Sheryl Crow’s 1996 self-titled album went triple platinum, she was a staple of cross-country road trips and 35-minute commutes. Her career is arguably the definitive crossover success of that decade—the rare safe bet for multiple radio formats, as pop as she is rock’n’roll, arguably a genre unto herself. Still, like other artists of her generation, Crow’s influence waned as CD players started to disappear from cars. Citing the pressures of the streaming economy, along with a growing family, she claimed that 2019’s Threads, her star-studded duets album, would be her last full-length LP. Then, over the past few years, she recorded enough singles to release a whole new album—a classic songwriter’s happy accident.
If there’s a noteworthy evolution to Evolution, it’s that Crow decided to give up her role as a producer on her music. “There’s a point where you get tired of what you do, you recognize your tricks, you despair of them,” she said in a press release. She’s handed the reins off to super-producer Mike Elizondo, the guy who, depending on who you ask, elevated “In Da Club” to greatness or yanked Extraordinary Machine down from it. (He also, some 10 years ago, played bass in Crow’s band.) Here his pop sensibilities are utilitarian, pushing the songs to radio-friendly completion without getting in the way of Crow’s hallmarks; there’s still plenty of funky guitar hooks and live percussion, even if Crow’s voice is occasionally overproduced.
When you remember that most of Evolution’s songs were intended as standalone singles, they do start to resemble archetypes of the Sheryl Crow playbook. You want the churning blues-rock number fit for a Chevy Silverado ad? Check out “Do It Again.” What about the rhythmic blend of acoustic guitar, bass, and handclaps that’ll work for both a campfire singalong and a festival encore? “Love Life” is your guy. Crow is, to her credit, tongue-in-cheek about her SoCal sensibilities. On opener “Alarm Clock,” she crafts an elaborate dream sequence, poking fun at how one might imagine an average day in the life of Sheryl Crow: blowing off work, flirting with Hollywood bartenders that look “like Chalamet,” cruising down to Malibu. It’s fun and frothy and has the best lyric about a surfboard since “Drunk in Love.”
Crow’s songs have long described self-proclaimed gurus with a raised eyebrow, but three decades into her career, she seems more comfortable being the one to dish out wisdom. She does shrooms now, apparently, but the soul-searching is digestible, on the level of a microdose rather than ego death. One too many of these motivational uplifts drag Evolution into monotony—“You Can’t Change the Weather” and “Waiting in the Wings” may as well be the same song—and her attempt at broad social commentary, on “Where?”, doesn’t fare much better. And then there’s the entirely out-of-place Peter Gabriel cover “Digging in the Dirt,” surely a Threads cast-off, that inexplicably shows up on the deluxe version.
Daniel D`Amico for SANREMO.FM