DEAD MEADOW / BLACK MOUNTAIN at the Nottingham Rescue Rooms:
A review in picture form.


Black Mountain’s Stephen McBean. “Hey man, this indie-rock is getting’ stale… let’s grow beards, spend all our money gnarly over-priced pedals and be, like… stoner rawk!!”


Amongst their shamble-ass Hawkwind / Syknyrd pastiches, there were a few moments when Black Mountain did manage to summon up a moderately impressive bit of rock – I’d like to think this photo was taken during one of them. Either that or someone just pushed me sideways while I was taking it – either way, result.


I like this picture cos it features Black Mountain’s chubby-and-proud-of-it lady member. In true patriarchal ‘70s rock tradition, she didn’t actually do much.


Dead Meadow in full ragin’ psychedelic power trio effect! Don’t be misled by their rather lo-fi stage presence, the music these guys make demands ten foot high Orange stacks, a full Acid Test light-show and a natural amphitheatre in the Himalayas at the very least.


Jason Simon launches into another mind-flaying, fuzz-fucked wah-wah solo. Can you hear the WEEEeeeAAAaaaaWWGgggHHHeeee? What a fuckin’ hero.


Fresh-faced ‘Meadow bassist Steve Kille. Check the Rickenbacker, the haircut, the low budget psychedelic lighting effects and the unidentified dude mucking about on a 12 string? I think I might try and pass this off as being taken on Sunset Strip circa ’67 or something… a rare shot of The Mung Beans in action possibly? I think the amplifiers probably give it away.