After a long day of work yesterday, I planned for a relaxing evening with friends, maybe playing a board game or two, and drinking a bottle or two of wine. It would have been peaceful, cheap, and best of all I would be able to go to sleep at a reasonable hour (note: I work a morning shift on Sundays). Just as Nicci and I were expecting Sari, Gabe and Leon to knock on our door, Nicci’s neighbor Landon swung open the front door and pointedly asked, “Are you guys coming to the show or what?”
“What show?” we both said, in unison.
“There’s a show down the street at Show Cave, the gallery next to yellow mart,” he informed us.
“There’s a gallery next to yellow mart?” Nicci asked.
“Yeah, a guy I used to work with is involved somehow. A band from New York called White Hills is playing.”
“White Hills!” I exclaimed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. You know them?”
And with that, we leapt up off the couch, grabbed my camera and started walking.
Sari, Gabe and Leon were eating burritos in the car outside, so we grabbed them and told them to come along. Three blocks down the street a small group of people were circling around the outside of a building I never would have guessed was an art gallery. I walked inside, saw a bunch of amplifiers set up, a slew of effects pedals strewn across the floor, and then White Hills’ guitarist Dave Weinberg brushed past me as he walked towards a DVD projector in the rear of the room. I walked over to him and introduced myself by stating that we’d met before. He was polite enough to respond with “Oh yeah,” even though I could tell he didn’t really remember me. When I told him my name, the lightbulb must have clicked on because he mentioned the blog and said that he knew there was a reason I looked familiar. I told him how I didn’t know they were playing LA, and asked if it was a last minute gig following their in-store at Aquarius. He said no, it’d been planned a couple months ago. I said I felt like a jackass for not knowing, but a lucky jackass at that, since he was literally about to take the stage. He fidgeted with the DVD player, the projection appeared, and he went up front and grabbed his guitar.
I haven’t seen White Hills perform in two years. I remember my introduction to them, I remember the intensity with which they played, and I remember thinking that Dave had the best guitar chops I’d seen in years. When I think about the songs, though, mostly what comes to mind is their Live on WFMU set, because I can more clearly remember that performance than anything I witnessed in person. Last night, the band (I don’t know who they had on drums, but he didn’t look like Kid Millions, who Ian said was drumming for them…then again he was wearing a mask) laid waste to all my preconceived notions about how great they were. White Hills are a fucking behemoth, an apocalyptic dream awash in searing white noise, all pummeling and hazy and smoky and deafening. They are the sonic equivalent of a maelstrom. There is no use in fighting, you are going to be sucked under so you had better accept it or learn to enjoy it.
The band performed tracks from Glitter Glamour Atrocity and Heads On Fire, last year’s Swan Fungus Album(s) Of The Year, including “Under Skin Or By Name,” “Love Serve Remember” and “Visions Of The Past, Present And Future (I think!), juxtaposed to a psychedelic light show and projected images of world leaders, pyramids, and old film-stock. Weinberg whipped and contorted his body as he tore into extended solos. Bassist Ego Sensation’s focus never wavered; her heavier than heavy bass riffs forming the foundation upon which those epic guitar leads are built.
After their set, I spoke to Dave for a few minutes. He was cordial as ever. I know I don’t say this a lot, but…whatever you do, support this band. Seek out their recorded output, or see them when they come to your town/city. You will thank me.
[Listen to White Hills Live on WFMU]
