The Black Angels @ the Middle East, Cambridge, MA
November 13th, 2007 - by Scott Lieber
I went into The Black Angels show Thursday night with pretty much every reason to hate it. Already, I had used a non-affiliate ATM machine to get cash (I loathe those charges) and had left an out-of-town friend at a bar to cover this event. That was Strike One.
Strike Two came when I waited in line and the venue, The Middle East in Cambridge, informed me my name wasn’t on the show list. Second time it’s happened in one week writing for this site. Now when people ask me at shows who I’m writing for, I say The Boston Globe.
Bitterness aside, luckily, I chatted up the guy in front of me in line, who was on the list plus one and who let me be his plus-one. A humble gesture. I thanked him and walked in ashamed and disgusted.
Over the next hour, I was subjected to a powerful concert experience. Watching The Black Angels live is like slowly descending into an LSD trip. The electronica psychedelic rock group covered most of their discography during the 60-minute set (The Angels only have one album out as of now), but they introduced new songs (Titles? Hell if I know.) likely set for their next release.
The Black Angels sounded like a modern-day Verve/Velvet Underground (the band’s name derives from a Velvet song). In concert, they’re like A Storm in Heaven cranked up 100 decibels. Lead singer Alex Maas looked like a homeless Vietnam veteran on stage, bushy beard and hair obscuring his face. Many Angels songs, too, deal with the current war and dying soldiers.
Live, even more so on disc, the Austin-based band borrows elements from psychedelic music of the late 70s, and Maas complemented his band like a drowned out Richard Ashcroft crooning over a drone machine.
The Angels achieve a unique overpowering sound, and the band’s stated goal is to flip current rock music on its ass. I didn’t take a ton of notes during the concert. I just slipped into the hypnotic sound The Black Angels produce. And considering they were dealing with someone cold sober and angry, it wasn’t an altogether bad trip.
