It’s quite the jammed-packed Wednesday at Lee’s this evening. But despite best efforts by openers Quest For Fire and Bon Iver, it seems this capacity crowd has come here with a singular purpose. In the case of the latter act, matters could have improved if the trio had chosen not to sit down for the entire set. Toronto crowds need a lot of foreplay, after all. Alas, audience chatter reigns supreme, despite Iver’s exquisite Appalachia-meets-Beach Boys three-part harmonies. C’est la vie.
Of course, Black Mountain does have a major buzz going on — how often do you see ticket scalpers outside Lee’s Palace? And as the band set up to a Hawkwind, the crowd — in many ways similar to that which Stereolab once enjoyed — hushes somewhat. Pothead Krautrockers and scene-ish haircut girls abound. Smoke machines belch in anticipation.
Black Mountain finally hits the stage sans fanfare, casually launching into “Stormy High” from their new disc In the Future. Singer/guitarist Stephen McBean is clearly the main man here, sporting a rare Gibson guitar and impressive beard growth. Yet it’s his vocal interplay with Amber Webber that makes this band tick — her searing vibrato (reminiscent of both Grace Slick and the late, lamented Fairpoint Convention crooner Sandy Denny) is flawless at every turn.
Keyboardist Jeremy Schmidt also creates a solid prog vibe on extended new tracks “Tyrants” and the Can-like “Wucan.” Had this been back in the day, there would be a bank of 37 Rick Wakeman -style synths dominating the stage. Mercifully, modern technology keeps Schmidt’s keyboard armada down to two. Giant inflated pigs are presumably just out of shot.
In lieu of Black Mountain’s style, there’s a surprising lack of light show, not that it’s needed — the audience is already sold. Stage banter is also negligible, which also seems to work best for this band. Webber digs into her hippy bag of percussion instruments from time to time, while McBean sways rhythmically, occasionally shaking his mane. Only before “Druganaut” does he address the audience, dedicating the forthcoming number to the band’s parents “because it’s their favourite song.”
Several 15-minute freak-outs ensue — “Bright Lights” being the highlight — but Black Mountain’s indulgences never devolve into pointless noodling. And despite the heroic stoicism of this act (especially Webber, who never flinches in the frontline), there is still high comedy to be found in the audience — so very few of these hipsters understand just how close to a King Crimson experience they are having. Many of their dads would be delighted.
A prog-o-licious show, worthy of the hype.