Bob Dylan was wrong
The wind’s all over the place today, so we might need a weatherman to tell us which way it’s really blowing. But we’ll get to The Witmark Demos later this week. On to our recs for Thursday!
If you’re traveling to the north country (where the winds hit heavy on the borderline) — good gravy, there couldn’t be a better band to go with our windy Dylan theme up in the north country than Black Mountain and their new album, Wilderness Heart. (O.K., other than Kurtis Blow and Gale Force.) At this point, you’re on board with the Vancouver-based riffmongers or not. It’s fun to go back over Amazon reviews of their debut, self-titled effort and see how the people who witnessed one of their opening slots for Coldplay(!) seem to enjoy them, but anyone who came to the band because they heard Black Mountain sounded like Black Sabbath invariably thinks they’re pussies. And it’s easy to understand the latter attitude. People with more than superficial exposure to Sabbath will think Mountain to be some kind of hipster imitation. But if you don’t hail from that school yet own a collection of 20-sided dice, there’s plenty to dip into. You’re also more likely to recognize that bulldozer power chords are only one weapon ing the band’s arsenal. Yes, they’re stuck in proggish and psychedelic ’70s arena rock, but “Buried By The Blues” is more like a cinematic recast of Led Zeppelin’s folksy third album, while “Old Fangs” nods to Diamond Nights or Queens Of The Stone Age and “The Space Of Your Mind” pulls directly from “Wish You Were Here.”
Openers The Black Angels have drafted possibly the worst band name to go with their droning, Velvets-inspired buzzkill. While we sit and ponder how come people only call heroin rock “Velvets-inspired” (as if “Sweet Jane” and “Who Loves The Sun” don’t exist), it dawns on us that Phosphene Dream (Blue Horizon) actually hedges closer to Liverpudilian medical impostors Clinic. Cracking rock beats so stiff they’re funky, it could exist with or without Lou Reed. (Thursday@Metro.)
Standing naked on your album cover can infer callous vanity or plain obliviousness, in Dark Dark Dark‘s case it doesn’t signify a stripped-down record. Frontwoman Nona Maria Invie resumes hiding behind her piano while bandmates adorn her gothic, indie-pop abstractions with banjo, clarinet, and cello. Where Regina Spektor turned right (and soulless), DDD went left to revel in a luxurious, though semi-spooky forest where Joanna Newsom only comes out during the day. Missteps are few on this sleeper — though letting Marshall Lacount sing some bars is a decision that needs revisiting. (Thursday@Hideout with Cross Record and Ends.)
Did musicians do benefits in the ’80s? Denis Leary used to joke that they did “Rock Against Drugs” commercials when they were pissed at their dealers. The San Miguel School’s 4th Annual Signature Fundraiser, “School of Rock,” involves Jim Peterik of Survivor, Don Barnes of .38 Special, Mike Reno of Loverboy, Jack Blades of Night Ranger, and Rik Emmet of Triumph. This particular benefit also gets support from former Chicago Bear cornerback Jerry Azumah. (Thursday@House Of Blues with an afterparty at Hotel Sax’s Crimson Lounge.)
— Steve Forstneger
Category: Featured, Stage Buzz, Weekly
