Black Mountain - self titled

And by the way, Dude? 'Black Mountain' is not the preferred nomenclature. African-American mountain, please.

–Note to self: beware of first impressions. You see, Black Mountain's self-titled record doesn't start well. In fact, track one, Modern Music, is a gimmicky, cacophonous in-joke. Even now, after listening to the record dozens of times, I couldn't tell you how this track ends. I've never made it that far – and if I did, I've obviously repressed it.

But just when your thoughts have turned to the disc's potential as a coaster or as funky wall art, track two, Don't Run Our Hearts Around, rears its shaggy head. The opening few bars are pure '70s bombast, and who doesn’t love that? Frontman Stephen McBean is on vocals till about halfway through when the golden-tonsilled Amber Webber takes over and brings the song home. Add hypnotic drumming and a sing-along refrain to the mix, and you'd have to be embalmed not to dig it.

Like the other standout tracks, Set Us Free and Heart of Snow, Don't Run Our Hearts Around is a big, baggy monster, jampacked with enough ideas for three normal songs. If you had a stick up your arse, you'd hold this against Black Mountain. But screw terms like "self-indulgent" and "undisciplined" if it produces songs this good.

McBean seems born to sing this kinda retro ‘70s gear, but as talented a vocalist as he is, it’s when Webber takes over that Black Mountain really soars. Webber has a voice that’s both powerful and subtle, a voice that’s communicates emotion without laying it on with a trowel. Sweet. Even better, when McBean and Webber combine their vocals on Don't Run Our Hearts Around and Set Us Free, it’s intoxicatingly cool – like Meatloaf and Ellen Foley on Bat Out of Hell, but without the cheddar factor.

Of the other tracks, Druganaut’s slinky vocals give way to a thumping rhythm and some very spank work on guitar. No Hits, although marred by monotonous vocals, has a cool, breakneck tempo, reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s Run Like Hell. Indeed, for those who care about that sort of thing, it’s possible to pinpoint many of Black Mountain’s influences. To Pink Floyd, you could add Led Zeppelin, the Stones, and Black Sabbath, to name a few.

This is one of those records that’s probably destined to barely break the surface in Australia. Which is pity, because at its best, it’s mighty fine. Just skip track one, OK?

-- Hans Fruck