Dead Meadow | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader
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I am susceptible to the call of the womb. I am prone to escapism and very fond of comfort, and in a world that's increasingly ugly, oppressive, and abrasive, I can't deny my longing to tune in, turn on, and drop into something rich, dense--and OK, a little abrasive. Having added a fourth member, guitarist Cory Shane, Dead Meadow has just put out its fourth album, Feathers, on Matador. I gushed over the D.C.-based heavy-psych outfit's 2003 release, Shivering King and Others, loving to death its immense riffs and lurching lumber through dark, fantastic inner and outer spaces. Feathers might be even better: Dead Meadow's dreaminess is sweeter-toned here and its mellow-mood-of-Spacemen 3 side (as on "At Her Open Door") further developed, but a Gothic-cathedral prog sensibility counters the pretty stuff, as does the band's constant threat to break out into full-on Sir Lord Baltimore power-freak mode. These guys have a fair amount of T. Rex in 'em--both the Bolan kind and the saurian, forever playing good-cop-bad-cop. Stuff this good doesn't need dressing up, but if there's a band around nowadays that deserves a liquid-projection light show and nubile hippie-chick go-go dancers, this is it. Jennifer Gentle and Grimble Grumble open. Fri 4/1, 10 PM, Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western, 773-276-3600 or 800-594-8499, $8 in advance, $10 at the door.

Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Mark owens.

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