Named IV in an obvious nod to the ageing rock monsters of yore, who would often come back recharged for a forth outing after a lukewarm third album (see Black Sabbath, and Led Zeppelin in particular – their IV was the hobbit-obsessed lemon squeezer’s biggest commercial and critical hit). Black Mountain similarly received major praise for their early work, especially the self-titled debut; a raw hard-rocking take on 70s psychedelic rock, but then faltered slightly with their third album Wilderness Heart. But that’s only if you listen to other music critics who are stupid and wrong. I reckon their first album was merely a Kings of Leon-style derivative throwaway and actually Black Mountain got progressively better with every subsequent album. If Wilderness Heart was guilty of anything it was of being too accessible; a bit too fun. Holy hell! Hang them from the nearest Ent!
Luckily for EVERYONE (and by ‘everyone’ I mean me, you reading this and a bunch of twatty musos) Black Mountain have decided to concentrate their efforts and come back harder and more determined than ever before. Hence the slate-wiping IV moniker (an earlier mooted joke title was ‘Our Strongest Material To Date’) and an album filled with a gorgeous blend of crunching guitars, epic production, brooding synths and emotive vocals. It’s easily their strongest materi… oh fuck you Black Mountain.
It begins with the 8m34s long ‘Mothers of the Sun’, a constantly building, moody-as-hell, expansive work that captures everything brilliant about the band. It may be as long and synthy as any prog rock track, but it also contains the devastating melodies of Zeppelin and the epic swell of Pink Floyd. But its true secret weapon is Amber Webber’s vocals, reaching across the grandeur like a softer Carrie Brownstein.
This is followed by the exhilarating ‘Florian Saucer Attack’, a B-movie sci-fi attack of psych-rock that’s as pounding as it is satisfying. ‘Defector’ has a lilting melancholic quality with wakka-wakka guitars and a wave of minor chords that plunge your heart into further turmoil.
‘Constellations’ is perhaps the most straightforward 70s rocker, with its cowbell percussion, tight guitar riffs, wizardy keyboards and the vocal back-and-forths, but it’s still fricking wonderful. ‘Line Them All Up’ is ostensibly the obligatory ballad and although it starts fairly ho-hum with a gentle acoustic guitar strum, it builds to something terribly beautiful as soon as Amber Webber starts singing “no-one’s listening, hurricane” and it subtly devastates you.
After ‘Cemetery Breeding’ with its high-level spookiness and morbidity, and another 8 minute epic in ‘(Over and Over) The Chain’ which sounds a little like Sexwitch with added 80s synth, you realise there isn’t a bad track on the album. Well, almost. ‘Crucify Me’ is pretty boring and then it ends with the 9 minute long ‘Space to Bakersfield’ which is essentially sprawling stoner rock with added atmosphere. But you know what, the first 42 minutes of the album have been so tightly focused, you can excuse them a chance to loosen up at the end of a long day rocking the fuck out.
You’re not excused though, you’ve still got a little more rocking out to do. MY GOD YOU’RE NOT EVEN STANDING UP!
Check out all the latest music releases in our new album reviews section, including Teleman’s Brilliant Sanity.
