Dead Meadow (USA) / Black Mountain (CAN)
11/29/05
Het Depot, Leuven (B)
Neo-psychedelic trippin', kool-aid sippin', credibility slippin'
This double bill will sound twice as good if you're
under the influence of a mind-expanding drug. Psychedelic music is back and
here to stay. Well, with four albums behind their belt, Dead Meadow
are hardly rookies on the scene, but it's the first time they got such a high
profile gig in Belgium (not that "high-profile in Belgium" actually means
anything). 
When
the trio kicked off their set in Leuven, it was obvious they'd been touring
for three weeks non-stop. The band played slow, lethargic, and a bit uninterested,
but as the sound became better and the audience more responsive, the band's
performance gained an intensity that would turn it into a satisfying experience.
The intriguing thing with Dead Meadow is that they've succeeded in uniting
influences that almost seem irreconcilable on paper: on the one hand, they're
heavily indebted to the heavy sludge and acid rock of seminal bands like Black
Sabbath and Blue Cheer and by consequence, they lay down lumbering grooves;
but on the other hand, they could be lumped in with the shoegazing bands as
well, as the ethereal, nearly whining vocals of Jason Simon perfectly complement
his trance-like guitar playing. With the help of an assortment of pedals and
effects, the guy switches from Neil Young-styled grooves to My Bloody Valentine-inspired
feedback to heavy metal-riffing. It could be become a total and tuneless mess,
but the fairly melodic vocals and fresh accompaniment by the rhythm section
kept things interesting. As the show progressed, the songs became more and
more cerebral, extended and noisy, the band exploring territory between those
of like-minded bands like Comets on Fire and Spiritualized. Their set was
a bit too long and uneven, but when they'd finally built up the wall of sound,
Dead Meadow were hitting their stride, blending old and new in style.
Whereas Dead Meadow's appeal seems limited to a small, loyal
following, somebody decided that Black Mountain would make a sellable
product. The band's debut album was suddenly all over the place, hundreds
of reviews have appeared (and many of them very laudable - even Mojo included
it in their Top 20 albums of 2005) and the band toured with Coldplay. That
is high profile. Now, if anyone can tell me why this band was picked
to tour with Coldplay, because it simply doesn't make sense. I fully agree
that an opening band shouldn't be a lesser version of the headlining one,
but what this band has in common with Coldplay… nada? 
I
can't imagine that more than 50 Coldplay-fans were actually interested in
the retro-rock of Black Mountain. Well, maybe I should phrase that differently:
I would've been able to imagine it if Black Mountain actually lived up to
the hype that preceded them. Unfortunately, they didn't. What I saw were a
few guys with a larger-than-average record collection trying to impress you
with their knowledge of the past three and a half decades of rock music, but
hardly succeeding in creating something "organic." Centered around vocalist/guitarist
Stephen McBean, Black Mountain is the kind of band that dabbles mainly in
70s rock (Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, you name it if it's big),
while adding a certain experimentalism by injecting their neo-classicist rock
with feedback excursions, quacking sax (on the album at least), drones and
disorienting genre switches. The one moment they're laying down a savage groove
à la VU's "Waiting for My Man" and a second later, they're boldly exploring
regions of the galaxy where no one has been since Pink Floyd got the fuck
out of there in 1974. Because the switches are so awkward and so few sections
actually make impact, the straightforward rocking was most successful. Single
"Druganaut" is a fine example of the bad taking Hawkwind into the 21st century,
while "Don't Run Our Hearts Around" is one of the better recent Led Zeppelin-tributes.
When the band tries to go beyond a mere homage to their fathers' record collections,
there results aren't always as impressive: the songs lack focus, come off
as a string of cool ideas hastily glued together or keep on milking an idea
that wasn't that successful to begin with. McBean's vocals sound pretty
nice (occasionally similar to those of My Morning Jacket's Jim James) and
so are the contributions of "singer-with-tambourine" Amber Webber, but many
of the keyboard-eruptions, distortion-drenched semi-chaos, plodding sections
and occasional reliance on pop harmonies just seemed too lazy or out of place.
It's okay to have that record collection and it's definitely okay to pillage
it, but it won't do to combine the elements and leave it at that. The playing
was excellent and halfway their set, the sound was quite impressive as well,
but you simply couldn't be sure whether they were in it for real, or because
they were a pastiche act wondering whether they could fool a bunch of Belgians.
It wasn't bad, but this spectator prefers the limited, monotonous appeal of
Dead Meadow over the slightly hollow grandness of Black Mountain any day of
the week.
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