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http://www.senbaltimore.com/music/music_reviews/local_cd_reviews/pontiak-w-begushkin-golden-west-cafe-2808.shtmlPontiak w/ Begushkin: Golden West Cafe 2/8/08
It's 1974 in Baltimore as Pontiak play Golden West Cafe in Hampden with Brooklyn's Begushkin.
Finally managing to be in town or available on a night when AGT favorite Pontiak were in town, I hurried over to Golden West Cafe in Hampden for a meal with a close friend and a night of big and rich (thanks to Ben from Payola Reserve for throwing that line into my repertoire ... and I thought Big & Rich was just a cheesy country act) french toast and dense, satisfying riffage.
While the night started out with a navigational snafu as I tried to play know-it-all and get to Hampden from the southwest without taking advantage of the JFX (bad idea if you're not really good with directions ... I'm obviously even worse than previously suspected), I arrived early enough to enjoy a meal and greetings with two out of three of the brothers Carney in Pontiak before being treated to the aperitif that is Brooklyn's Begushkin. Tuneful and accented by semi-hollow body guitar tones and tasty vibrato, Begushkin's strange disappearance for about twenty minutes mid-set is forgiven, as the trance-inducing psychedelia leaves me with a thirst for more from their release Nightly Things (Locust Music).
Brushing aside the sound hangups (where were the vocals in the mix?), Pontiak put on a mammoth of a show. That mammoth slowly thawed throughout the course of the set, starting with a slow, coming-out-of-its-frozen-state groove and warning the smaller beings of its presence with bombastic drums like a lumbering, then stampeding, beast. That bobble-head groove on "Shell Skull" giving way to the rapacious and plundering chorus was improvised upon in a way that left me ducking for cover, fearful of being trampled by the beast of "Sun on Sun" (read the review of Pontiak's latest, AGT's #3 Album of 2007).
One of two things happened when Pontiak took the stage and made their presence known: either they played a new song, dug deep to White Buffalo material, or I was skull-blasted by the presence of that smoked-out sound I dig so much. Whichever it was, you'll find me out on the tundra with loincloth and spear, stalking this prehistoric beast until I've gathered enough meaty jams to feed my family. And even then, I'll be pulling every bit of meat off the bone until the next thaw.