Black Angels

It might have been the singer's mother, or maybe his aunt. Or maybe just a foreign tourist who ended up there by chance. I'll probably never know for sure, but it was a beautiful thing to see that plump lady, blonde hair tied up, somewhere in her sixties, black leather jacket, a pint of beer for company, elbows on the barrier, standing right in front of the stage from the first note to the last.

The opening notes, around 10pm, are sitar samples over a rhythm laid down by a (also sampled) tabla, with psychedelic images in constant motion, like a screen saver, projected behind the stage. At that point I half expect Kula Shaker to walk out any minute, but instead it's four very young guys from Montreal, Elephant Stone, who take the stage. Two of them have clearly Indian features, including frontman Rishi Dhir, who plays bass but at one point swaps it for a magnificent sitar, played divinely in the classic position, seated cross-legged on a bench draped in a purple tapestry. Their sound is an enjoyable, effective blend (judging too by the crowd's amused enthusiasm) of Brit-inflected (h-)indie rock, heavy reverb, hallucinogenic samples and elements of Indian folk music. It brings to mind the Horrors submerged in the waters of the Ganges. Worth noting, and worth revisiting with more attention.

It takes almost half an hour to clear Elephant Stone's gear off the stage and get everything set for the main course of the evening: the Black Angels, from Austin, Texas, among the world's leading names in the new psych-rock scene. They already have 5 albums behind them, one of which ("Another Nice Pair") is essentially a collection of their first two EPs. Their latest album, "Indigo Meadow", released not long ago, has been winning unanimous praise from both fans and critics, who have crowned them one of the scene's foremost, almost undisputed, protagonists worldwide (right now, I'd say, alongside Clinic and Goat).

Introducing their show are none other than the most famous bass notes in the world, those of Pink Floyd's "One Of These Days", accompanied by the usual barrage of kaleidoscopic, delirious and highly evocative visuals in the background. They open with "Mission District" from "Directions To See A Ghost", before running through some of their finest songs, mainly drawn from the latest "Indigo Meadow" ("Evil Things", "Don't Play With Guns", "Indigo Meadow", "I Hear Colors", "Twisted Light", "Always Maybe", "Broken Soldier") and from "Phosphene Dream" ("Yellow Elevator", "Entrance Song", "Haunting At 1300 Mc Kinley", "Telephone", "Bad Vibration").

The audience's peaks of frenzy, though the engagement stays consistently high throughout, seem to hit their height with "Black Grease", from "Passover", the band's debut album, from which they also play the excellent "Young Men Dead".

An hour and a half of psychedelic pummeling for the many who packed into Circolo degli Artisti, for the first of two Italian dates on the joint European tour of these two worthy bands. So much energy, so much pathos (closing your eyes, you could almost draw a comparison between the live voice of Jim Morrison and that of Alex Maas, at times, truth be told, veering close to outright emulation), so many echoes and reverbs conjuring that mystical, surreal atmosphere which, channeled into the frameworks of rock and blues, once electrified — and continues to electrify — waves of listeners across different generations.

A special mention, though, is deserved by Stephanie Bailey, the (gorgeous) drummer who keeps laying down a relentless beat, part martial, part tribal, her sticks almost always striking tom and snare in tandem, not unlike the way Meg White used to play, whose style — and posture — she somewhat recalls. She's magnetic, even though her eyes stay fixed downward the whole time, indifferent to the crowd and to any glory, because all that matters is hammering away at that damn drum kit. Nothing else.

And what if that woman turned out to be his mother after all? I'll probably never know, but I like the idea of leaving the venue holding on to that doubt.

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