By Geoff Topley
I can’t recall how or when The Black Angels came to my attention. Maybe it was their hometown of Austin, Texas that alerted me to them, being a big fan of fellow townsfolk …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead and Explosions In The Sky. Their debut album Passover was my first encounter and what lies therein must have floated my boat, because I later acquired Directions To See A Ghost and last album Phosphene Dream.
New album Indigo Meadow took me by surprise when I listened at first, mostly because I listened to their other albums approximately twice. In the interests of fair review I am obviously giving this one more considered airplay. But it’s not an easy mission because The Black Angels tread a very thick water, if you’re not prepared to tackle those waters, you may drown in the drone of their 60s retro organ sound.
I’m conscientious of my line of critique for this album, I suspect fans of The Black Angels buy totally into their philosophy, which I must admit, I wasn’t aware of until I read the Press for the new long player. I suspect they mean it, man.
Having said that, Indigo Meadow starts out as a dazzling heady record that sounds like it could have been created almost 50 years ago. The production really hits the spot authentically reliving analogue organ sounds and the creepy vocal tones of bands from the psychedelic era. Oh, and Clinic. And Thee Hypnotics. And The Warlocks. There was a time when those (modern) bands featured heavily in my (pre-iPod) playlists, I think I must have read a review in the NME that suggested The Black Angels would be worthy of my time.
Opening/Title track ‘Indigo Meadow’ leaps out of the speakers at you, a fierce rallying call, all swirling riffs, droning organ and menacing intonations from vocalist Alex Maas. Short and sharp, impressive with its drive and urge to draw you in. Things sound good at this point. With second track ‘Evil Things’, backed by thunderous Zeppelinesque drums, sinewy grooving bass and featuring one of the greatest yelps ever committed to vinyl, this is shaping up to be a tremendous album. I’m thinking I need to revisit those previous albums soon. Lead track ‘Don’t Play With Guns’ keeps the momentum going, a splurge of riotous organ-led punk and machine gun drumming, simpler in execution, but no less enjoyable. Things darken down somewhat with the eerie 'Holland', resplendent with sinister vocal delivery, haunted house organ and wandering guitar lines.
Then Indigo Meadow’s finer moments bid us farewell and we enter into a territory that can only be labelled as pastiche psychedelia. Poor tribute bands of early era Status Quo and The Doors shamble into view and the incessant drone of that bloody organ begins to grate. Maas’ vocals start to etch agony into your eardrums and you yearn for something to pluck you from the quagmire of the retro swamp.
Had the track listing on this album spread the better moments through the filler I might have been more pleased with the end result. As I said, I can’t quite recall when my interest in The Black Angels started, but I do know when it ended.
