White Hills

Having hosted the splendid hard-psych trio Dead Meadow just a few months ago, Rome's Sinister Noise deserves credit for its constant championing of some of the most interesting names on the heavy scene. Tonight's headliners are cut from similar cloth to Dead Meadow: White Hills, from Brooklyn, New York, who likewise deal in a form of psychedelic hard rock drawing equally on the old guru Hawkwind and on the melodic lessons of groups that have little to do with hard rock, like Loop and Spacemen 3. It's a formula that has broken through in underground circuits largely thanks to "Heads On Fire", the album released last year on Invada Records.

Taking the stage before the American trio are two local acts, Snake Cult and White Rainbows.

First up are Snake Cult, who display a fine ability to blend Sabbath-esque influence, steering clear of genre clichés with a sound halfway between the space noise of Helios Creed and hard-punk outfits like Flipper and Bl'ast. The musicianship is strong, though things are less compelling when the band gives in to easy seventies-rock moves.

After Snake Cult it's White Rainbows' turn, and their full-throttle stoner-blues immediately shows they're not afraid of comparisons with the genre's biggest names, at least in terms of stage delivery. The songs are pleasant enough to listen to, but they really hit home only when the band tries to break away from the usual tropes, with consistently well-judged off-beats and sharp rhythmic ideas.

It's almost midnight by the time White Hills start playing. They're a three-piece – guitar, bass and drums – and the eye is immediately drawn to the vast array of effects pedals scattered at the feet of the diminutive guitarist, Dave W, before settling on the odd get-up of the shady figure behind the drums (Bob Bellomo) and on bassist Ego Sensation's exaggerated femininity.

Dave W, a slave to his six-string, unleashes a continuous orgy of feedback and delay, breaking off only to indulge in searing phrases that dissolve into the electric deviance of the wah pedal, underpinned by mighty, relentless drumming and simple but gorgeous melodic touches from the bass. It's especially in the bass and vocals that the trio betrays the influence of 80s English neo-psychedelia – a bass that comes across as almost wave-like, lending the right dose of emotion and physicality to the guitar's all-consuming mantras: it's largely thanks to this element that the band manages to make its long space-rock suites so engaging, which might otherwise risk becoming unbearably repetitive. White Hills clear that hurdle masterfully, as on the magnificent "Eye To Eye", which slides midway into a slow kraut-rock stride recalling Can, and on the two closing tracks, tautly wound psychedelic rides bordering on punk.

Loudly acclaimed and seemingly tireless, White Hills don't hold back from rewarding the crowd with a brief but inspired encore.

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