This past February I found myself driving into Manhattan on what was easily the coldest night of the year. The National Weather Service had issued a winter weather advisory that afternoon, and by nightfall the temperature had dropped to several degrees below zero. As I navigated my way from the Holland Tunnel to Lit, I was shocked at the indelibly empty streets downtown. It was under these frigid conditions that I was first exposed to White Hills. Awash in fuzzed-out bliss, swelling and roaring and filling every inch of space, the Brooklyn-based trio more than thawed the patrons who had ventured indoors from the frozen city streets. They warmed us, they dosed us, took our hands and led us on a fantastic trip, disorienting in both space and time.
Now, eight months later, the band is poised to release their second full-length album of the year. Their first, Glitter Glamour Atrocity (self-released), I’ve already hailed as the best album of 2007. Their latest offering, Heads On Fire, is equally intoxicating.
From the distant swirls and ominous distorted bass that introduce the heady opener “Radiate,” to the fiercely up-tempo closer “Eternity,” listeners are treated to fifty minutes of hypnotic, heavy rock. Heads On Fire is an exhibition in rich tones, swirling effects, and powerful rhythms. Thanks to guitarist/vocalist Dave Weinberg, the guitar solo — which in recent years seems to have been relegated to alterna-rock dustbin — has returned.
“Ocean Sound” begins not with a whimper, but a bang. An overdriven riff repeats for several bars, followed by a brief, searing wah solo. Bob Bellomo thrashes away at his drums, injecting sporadic fills but generally keeping things thunderous and tribal. Once the band sinks into a steady groove, the sound expands and copious psychedelic effects catapult the tune into the cosmos. The track would feel entirely at home on Hawkwind’s In Search Of Space.
The nine-minute long “Visions Of The Past, Present, And Future,” briefly decreases the amplification, allowing some warped ambient flutters to lull the listener before an extended, deliriant solo soars above a rolling fog of drums and bass. As stunning as the song is, the record still hasn’t reached its apex. The centerpiece of Heads On Fire is unquestionably “Don’t Be Afraid”; twenty-six minutes of mind-bending sonic freakout guaranteed to leave after image-like trails. A foreboding dial tone, gloomy whispered vocals, distant chants and fluctuating waves creep along for six minutes before Weinberg asserts, “Don’t be afraid. It’s all in your mind,” and produces a wickedly lysergic solo sure to distract from whatever paranoid delusions you may be harboring. Another squall, muffled guitar squeals and sundry effects cushion the fall back to Earth from some distant galaxy. Ah, but the jam isn’t even half over yet. Settle in, close your eyes, and enjoy the remainder of your trip.
Heads On Fire serves as both a perfect primer to the band’s milieu and a strong followup to Glitter Glamour Atrocity. There is no shortage of memorable sounds on either album. If it is volcanic rhythms and cosmic melodies you seek, or harmony between ambience and chaos, or maybe just a record you can spin a few times while out of your head, White Hills has you covered. Go into the light.
