After four albums (including one post-apocalyptic surf movie soundtrack) mining the proggy bass chugging wizardry of Yes, the black hole guitar-driven R&B of Blue Cheer, the dankest parts of Led Zeppelin’s mountain mystic folk rock, and some Velvet Underground proto-punk, the Vancouver-based sludge psych band Black Mountain is a known quantity among classic rock revivalists. But the way their aesthetic trickles down to its members' side projects provides an interesting angle on their approach. Lead singer/guitarist Stephen McBean’s debut album with Grim Tower is the most recent example, combining strains of bluegrass with pitch black psychedelic textures to create a “new acoustic death folk” ensemble with former Yeah Yeah Yeah’s guitarist Imaad Wasif. Lightning Dust, comprised of Black Mountain vocalist Amber Webber and drummer Joshua Wells, is probably the most accomplished BM satellite.
Lightning Dust cues from their parent band in some ways-- maintaining a wistful veil of doomy, occasionally inscrutable, psychedelia-- but without the bombast. They've also calibrated their songwriting to include electronic flourishes in the vein of minimalist electronic legends Suicide, and shades of 1970s FM soft rock like Fleetwood Mac, with Webber’s gorgeous voice providing an eerie parallel to Stevie Nicks’ howl. On Fantasy, Lightning Dust’s third studio album, Webber and Wells have polished and foregrounded the once-peripheral synths and drum machines. So while the duo’s 70s pop influences remain relatively intact, the small scale prog rock oddities that permeated 2008's Infinite Light are discarded for chilly, art-disco sheen.
But the album's glossy production proves to be an awkward fit for Webber’s elegantly weird harmonies and impressionistic lyricism. Where the band once drew energy from the friction created by her cryptic vocals butting up against the rigid grid of driving synths, there are too many instances on Fantasy where the electronics dominate, throwing the sound out of balance. “Mirror” in particular is beautifully sung song trapped inside shiny, bland production, with cheap sounding skittering 808’s and percolating percussion. And “In the City Tonight” squanders another ethereal Webber performance with listless keyboards and a-rhythmic drum machines pattering pointlessly in the background.
Sometimes the duo’s newly developed sound clicks into place, like when the brittle electronic beats link up with Webber’s lyrics on the industrial-tinged “Loaded Gun”, but even then we lose the most distinctive parts of Webber’s croon. Her voice is unique, to the point that it needs only a haunting keyboard line or acoustic riff to complete a song. The album's inconsistency can be attributed to Lightning Dust's desire to add additional wrinkles to their well-worn psych rock/ 70s pop mix. And while it's hard to fault a band for branching out beyond their established template, the tidy electronic textures of Fantasy don't begin to match the mysterious depths of Lightning Dust's best work.
