WITCH MOUNTAIN with CONAN + NORTH and The Sleer
Friday, May 12, 2017 9:00 PM PDT
(8:00 PM Doors)
Dante's, Portland, OR
21 years and over
Witch Mountain was founded by guitarist/songwriter Rob Wrong and drummer/manager Nathan Carson in Portland, OR in 1997. In those days, if you didn't wear a cardigan and play sloppy indie-rock on a guitar you bought at a garage sale, you were not going anywhere. But the band was committed to its roots in the Blues, Rock, and Metal. Carson and Wrong shared a love of the Beatles, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, Judas Priest, and the Beach Boys. By the time the Homegrown Doom demo was recorded in '99, the band was already on its 4th bass player (he didn't last long, either).
Since those early days, Witch Mountain's accomplishments read like a laundry list: Three albums for Profound Lore, a single for Scion, a comp track on Adult Swim's metal compilation. Festival performances at Roadburn, Hellfest, Hopscotch, and tours all over Europe and North America with the likes of Nik Turner's Hawkwind, Cough, Lord Dying, Spirit Caravan, Weedeater, were all great successes. Likewise, the major press has levied accolades on Witch Mountain, from Pitchfork to NPR, Spin to MSN, Noisey to Rhapsody. If you can name a band that influenced doom, be it Candlemass or Blue Oyster Cult, Sleep or Diamond Head, Saint Vitus or Uli Jon Roth, Witch Mountain has shared the stage with them.
2015 brings new blood to the group, with vocalist Kayla Dixon taking over for the recently retired Uta Plotkin. Dixon's talent and enthusiasm continues to revitalize the band, which is remarkably far from jaded after nearly 18 years as a unit. Latest album Mobile of Angels won worldwide praise, and placed on most Top 20 Year End lists for metal music in 2014. Now, with latest and greatest bass player Justin Brown (#11, we think...) in tow, the group is set to tour America once more, this time in support of its longtime friends YOB.
Once against the grain in every way, time and culture has cycled the band into a new era where Doom is somehow considered cool, and Witch Mountain is recognized as an organic, unwavering stalwart of the scene.
Conan are as heavy as interplanetary thunder amplified through the roaring black hole anus of Azathoth. Remember that sentence, for it is writ large in virgin blood on the walls of the forgotten temple of Bol-Krastor, deep in the steaming forests of forgotten Lemuria. Conan, a monumentally brutal three piece (in the grand tradition of all the hallowed three pieces through time) hold a sinew-tight line and an iron-grip command over the uber-synchronised powerchord changes and tempo-shifts of the anti-holy trio of bass, drums and guitar. Two weary yet defiant men have the task of vocalising wretched thoughts over the turgid weight of Conan's metalized bombast. They bear it well, for the task is immense.