Another psychedelic night with The Black Angels in Nashville

I’ve always held firm to the belief that if a band moves you, truly moves you, you owe it to yourself to see them more than once. Some artists just need to be witnessed repeatedly; each performance peels back a layer of something you didn’t know you needed. I feel like bands like Phish, The Grateful Dead, even Taylor Swift (in all her Eras) fit into this category. This past week in Nashville at The Basement East, I found myself doing exactly that: taking my seat, metaphorically speaking, for my sixth time seeing my favorite band, The Black Angels.

My first encounter with them was at Levitation Fest in Austin, Texas many years ago… although I remember it like it was yesterday. There was something about this band that burrowed deep into my skull that night and refused to leave, as if a portal had cracked open and I was pulled into some alternate psychedelic rock dimension. I don’t do drugs, but I’ve always felt that The Black Angels produce a reaction in my brain unlike anything else: a full-body response, as if the music itself is some kind of sonic narcotic flowing through my veins.

On this particular night in Nashville, the band was performing their debut album, Passover, in its entirety. This album was released in 2006 and, for those unaware, stop what you’re doing and go listen to it right now.

It is, without question, one of the greatest albums ever committed to tape.

When the band took the stage and kicked into “Young Man Dead”, I closed my eyes and let the music swallow me whole. I happen to own a first pressing of Passover on vinyl — one of the most prized records in my collection — and hearing those songs played in a live room gave the album an entirely new level.

Not having listened to Passover front to back in quite some time, the experience of hearing it sequenced and performed live felt revelatory. Songs like “Empire” and “Bloodhounds on My Trail” hit with a weight that reminded me exactly why this band has had such a stranglehold on me for so long. The entire show felt suspended in time, every riff bouncing off the walls of my brain. After the album concluded, the band shifted into a run of new material and, I’ll admit, I’m genuinely excited about whatever comes next. No confirmed release date yet, as far as I know, but the new songs carried the same hypnotic gravity that made me fall for them in the first place. The future of The Black Angels sounds bright… or at least beautifully dark in all the right ways.

I spent far too much at the merch table, naturally. I have no regrets.

There’s something satisfying about walking around in a Black Angels hoodie, carrying a little piece of the night home with you. I’ll almost certainly see them again — probably more than once. But I’m not sure anything will top this performance. My one lingering wish is that someday, somewhere, they’ll play “Half Believing”: it’s one of my all-time favorites in their catalog and, across all six shows, they’ve yet to pull it out. One day. I have to believe that.

Photography by Derek Jones

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