By: David Schultz

Practically every review of the new Cold War Kids album makes a point of noting that bloggers embraced the band in its infancy, implying that perhaps a skeptical eye should be turned towards the praise. After all, why should anyone care about the opinions of those who love music to such a degree that they devote a good portion of their spare time to writing about it? What do they know? Last week, Black Mountain made their way through New York City with Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter for midweek shows at New York City’s Bowery Ballroom and Brooklyn’s Music Hall at Williamsburg. My friend who went with me made her reasons for seeing Black Mountain quite clear, “I don’t know if I like them, but the blogs say I should.” In our ever-flattening world, the musical bloggers do have influence and will steer less rabid fans in the direction of some pretty fine music; in the case of Black Mountain, as well as the Cold War Kids, they aren’t offering poor guidance.

Offering a slinky mix of psychedelic beats, progressive rock, hard rock guitars and folk-singer-siren wailing, Black Mountain delivers the goods for anyone looking an old-fashioned rock and roll rave. Much of the well-deserved praise towards the band lands upon guitarist Stephen McBean and singer Amber Webber, Black Mountain’s most distinctive voices. At the Bowery Ballroom though, it was bassist Matt Camirand and drummer Joshua Wells that sank their hooks into the sold-out crowd’s collective psyche. The worked a variety of soul-moving, trippy rhythms which allowed Jeremy Schmidt to work some powerful Greg Lake derived keyboard melodies and McBean to supply the power rock.

The eighty minute set was heavy on material from their recently released In The Future; they careened their way through the twists and turns of lengthy epics like “Tyrants” and “Wucan,” blasted the straightforward power rocker “Stormy High” and slithered through the psychedelic cum Barry White groove of “Druganaut.” Seeing Webber sing on stage removes much of her ephemeral aura. On record, Webber’s unearthly siren song comes with Wagnerian overtones, as if descending from up on high; on stage, you get a peek behind the wizard’s curtain and without the mystery, dulls the effect.

Another enthralling singer, Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter, opened the night. A interesting complement to Black Mountain, Sykes and her band provide the same hypnotic swells as the psychedelic Canadians but as anyone who’s listened to Like, Love, Lust and the Open Halls of the Soul already knows, she does it with a quieter, more inviting tone. For the first couple songs of the set, Sykes hid her angular face behind her waist length hair before tossing it back and meeting the crowd head on. Sykes’ richly distinctive voice trembles and warbles and walks the line between slight speech impediment and extraordinary vocal control. It wavers in the air, giving a haunting quality to the moody “Moonlight Mile” style rock and roll that she and the Sweet Hereafter deliver with the same refined power of Crazy Horse.

Along with Wooden Shjips, Black Mountain owe a debt to the Syd Barrett’s acid fueled Pink Floyd jams. By mixing in some Seventies era hard rock a la Wolfmother, ELP derived progressive rock and their own trippy style of funk, Black Mountain drinks deep from the well that’s sustained many a fine artist. In no small part to the presence of Sykes & The Hereafter, I probably had more fun at Black Mountain’s show than I have in quite some time. Unfortunately, with the exception of a couple Canadian shows, you have to go Black Mountain, cause Black Mountain won’t be coming to you in the near future.

Labels: Black Mountain, Jesse Syke and The Sweet Hereafter