Motorpsycho

The return of Motorpsycho to the New Age Club in Treviso, a venue that has always had a soft spot for the Norwegians, coincides with the celebrations for the twentieth anniversary of Bent Sæther (bass) and Snah Ryan (guitar), now without Håkon Gebhrdt, the band's longtime drummer and a keen bluegrass and country banjo player, replaced by the young Kenneth Kapstadt.

It's therefore logical to assume that a show of theirs in 2009 would be even more self-indulgent, demanding and grandiose than before. Always famous for their marathon sets, both on record and live, the band has nonetheless drawn fresh energy above all from the tighter (though still deeply personal, and a touch kitsch) jam-band format of their most recent album, "Little Lucid Moments", a side perhaps overshadowed on records like "It's a Love Cult" and "Phanerothyme" (though it was already there in embryonic form in the collaboration with Jaga Jazzist on the tenth volume of the "In The Fishtank" series).

This leads them to serve up something truly overflowing. It's no coincidence that the concert kicks off with a reworked version of "Year Zero", radiant with a Floyd-like build from sparse touches and murmured vocals to granite-solid improvisation, then crumbling, then even turning pyrotechnic. New acid-rock ambitions surface in an extended version of "Sail On".

The reshuffled line-up (also affected by the absence of Deathprod on electronic keyboards, no small loss given his role in their naive arrangements) is certainly a factor that lets them focus on a psychotic, almost lysergic interplay, as in the 10 minutes of "Hogwash" (during which Sæther blows out the candle on their twentieth-birthday cake), with a new drummer who may not be as well blended as his predecessor, but is if anything even superior as a player, leaning toward jazz-rock, capable of bombastic solos in "You Lied" or explosive flourishes in "The Ozzylot".

All of this lives up to the promises made by their latest album, though it leaves a bitter aftertaste for a few overly hypnotic stretches, like the first encore, a nearly half-hour-long monolith that dissects fragments of "The Alchemyst" (one of the best tracks on "Moments") and "Cornucopia", mixing them beyond belief and even hitting some low points of confusion mistaken for improvisation. By contrast, Hendrix-worthy heights, courtesy of a particularly playful Ryan, are reached on a thunderous "Sideway Spiral".

The set thus favors a long hard-rock divertissement, revisited in their own way (that is, leaning into their most eruptive and joyful side, as befits any self-respecting commemorative party). Sixties-style art-pop numbers, an "Upstairs-Downstairs" marred by a few vocal dips from Ryan and a "Bedroom Eyes" played almost absent-mindedly, give the band a chance to catch their breath. A "Feel", meanwhile, serves to test exactly that, the feeling, the emotional response of the crowd, who answer by belting out the chorus in full-throated unison.

The second encore, still warmly received despite two hours of playing, is a genuine gift from the men of the hour: a "Vortex Surfer" worthy of Dinosaur Jr, as much a mournful ballad as a fresh blast of heavily distorted decibels.

Excesses, muscle-flexing and overly contrived jazz-rock arrangements nonetheless did full justice to the Norwegian band's aesthetic, a framework the two founding members keep steady with practiced dignity, without any real hitches, held up by a blind faith mirrored by the blind faith of their fans: almost an exchange of vows, not just a proper rock concert, for the twenty years still to come.

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