Indigo Meadow, filled with spacey hypnotic splendor, channels the mystic ethereal delights of The Doors and early Pink Floyd, overflowing the grooves with a heartbeat pounding bass that inches along like some dark foreboding undercurrent onto which 60’s era wobbling fuzzed out guitars and tribal drumming unearth a time and state of mind that’s nearly been forgotten. The Black Angels have learned, or perhaps have been given the gift of transcending both time and space, enticing colours out of pure oxygen, and compressing the atmosphere while setting controls for a acid-laced spiritual overdrive that will jettison the listener to a place beyond their scope of being.
The tone-arm had barely lifted before I was swept with the intoxicating notion that Phosphene Dream had been their Revolver, and that as The Beatles had done so many years ago, The Angels have taken a sonic step from the realm of easy psychedelic pop to a Beatle-esque Sgt. Pepper journey [with the emphasis on 'journey'], one filled with personal and social implications that would, and hopefully here will, set a new generation at the steps of musical enlightenment and wonder. Indigo Meadow is much more psychedelic than neo-psychedelic ... with the band sounding less sinister, and no longer assaulting the listener with their visionary concepts, choosing more to nudge the listener, almost unknowingly, into their sphere of influence ... and what a wonderful place it is to be.
Review made by Jenell Kesler/2013
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