Blackest of Mountains

I have the tendency to find out about awesome albums years after they first come out, which happily isn’t always my fault. I wasn’t alive when Oar came out, I don’t think I had any money when Marquee Moon was released. And I frankly hated how often light radio played Neil Diamond to realize how awesome he truly is. But I’m really only a year off from discovering a band that only has one album so far but will probably prove to be at least as classic as the above.

Black Mountain‘s self-titled debut came out last January and if you haven’t heard it, give it a try. It is fucking awesome. A few of the tracks have that classic art rock type of screechy saxaphone paired with repetitive bass and instead of singing, a kind of sighing/yelling. Other songs are psychedelic prog-rock; bass-heavy, ballswaying rrrrOCK. Listening to the album you’re like, groooove out. No, ROCK out. No, psych out. No, beard out. You nod your head slowly, trying to get back to work, but your middle and ring finger keep curling while your index and pinky extend to the fucking sky, baby, like little black mountains all your own.

• Listen to “Druganaut“
• Listen to “Heart of Snow“

If you like Black Mountain, check out songwriter Stephen McBean’s lighter fare in Pink Mountaintops.