Bardo Pond's Designer Psychedelic Music

Back when I used to live in Boston, that ghetto of yuppie pretensions and staunch New England "values," they used to have these things called "Deep Heaven"?in fact, I think they still do. They have to keep it very hush-hush because it always gets shut down. Despite its name, Deep Heaven is never a tranquil event because the kids have to keep their eyes out for the narco rangers and that gets in the way of getting "loose" to the psychedelic vibes. If it sounds like we're talking about Deadheads here, we're not: these are the hipster kids and their snooty veneer?which is disguised as having no "veneer" at all (i.e., too cool to notice)?will have you know that they've all had several years of college. Nineties hippies? Not quite, because the indie minions musically derive from the punks! That is, the abrasive texture of punk rock (i.e., guitars) forms the firmament of their "folk" art. Speaking of folkies, that's what they're actually the equivalent of. And don't forget what followed folk music (and folk-rock) in the 60s cultural canon: psychedelia. So we've come full-circle once again.

A few times Deep Heaven really did manage to get that Avalon Ballroom/Exploding Plastic Inevitable vibe. But this is Boston, not L.A.: you can't buy beer after 11 o'clock, etc. It kinda puts the damper on the downtown "art" party. I didn't really see that much drug-doing at Deep Heaven anyway, despite the fact it was supposed to be this big psychedelic fest. I came prepared: with a shopping bag containing a 12-pack of Heineken, a fifth of Johnnie Walker Black and a bottle of Romilar. But the kids looked at me with disdain, because the use of such blue-collar intoxicants didn't go along with the designer drugs they were taking.

Just like you have designer drugs now, you have designer psychedelic music?and that's kinda what Bardo Pond is. Bardo Pond, who come from Philly, are veterans of a couple of Deep Heavens and their music is tailor-made for such pretenses. But that's not bad in a sense?a collective of this kind is indeed a blow for freedom in this sterile day and age and Bardo Pond may be the best "jam" band on the planet.

Their sound/structure revolves around the pyramid-inducing fuzz guitars of brothers John and Michael Gibbons, which kind of just stumble forward in a gigantic snarl of compressed energy. It's like letting the air out of a balloon?or slowly putting it back in. The icy murmurings of chanteuse Isobel Sollenberger reach into the most hormone-infested part of the brain. She's the ultimate indie goddess ideal. She's thin, attractive and no doubt intelligent, with straight messy hair ala Liz Phair or the chicks from Veruca Salt. Total '95, in other words, which was about when Bondo Pondo emerged, but they're still stuck there. And in itself that's cool, like in "Sunrise," where the band executes its usual brand of stumbledown sludge and Sollenberger repeats phrases like "watching it happen" with the quality of a latter-day Nico. The Velvets seem to be a prominent influence, as evidenced by "Inside," which chops its way forward with the same oceanic beat as the early VU and reaches an orgasmic crescendo of mind-distorting proportions.

Another good track is "Despite the Roar," which is the "coming down" tune. The guitarists plink on acoustics and Sollenberger moans as if she's channeling the spirit of Patsy Cline using Barbara Manning's soul as ransom. The whole thing doesn't so much move as just kind of quiver. In its own way it's as hazy-erotic as the more illuminating moments of the Incredible String Band circa '67. They break into a boat-rocking jam at the end with some awesome drumming from skinsman Ed Farnsworth.

Sollenberger ain't no fragile tulip though?on "lb." she works up a lather worthy of Patti Smith circa Radio Ethiopia and the band responds with appropriate twin-engine grind. Listen to this track and see why Sonic Youth claims Bardo Pond is one of their favorite bands!

Dilate doesn't really require a lot of involvement. Like a lot of those Deep Heaven performances that this disc evokes, it's perfect music for standing around in a stupor. But if you get up close enough to it, you'll come to realize its sap-draining virtues. Pull up a tub and spike it up.