PEARLS AND BRASS make me think of a line from Leonard Cohen: “And we read from pleasant Bibles that are bound in blood and skin / That the wilderness is gathering all its children back again.” The Nazareth (Pennsylvania, that is) trio takes that splendid heresy and captures the kind of noise and feeling it evokes: imagine the Ents destroying Isengard with Cream playing on the sound track. Their second album, The Indian Tower (Drag City), is a step forward in crispness and clarity from their self-titled bronto-blues debut, yet it’s by far the hairier, freakier record, with its riffs coiled around eerie heathen tales of rebellion and mystic visions of doom. They don’t sidestep stoner-rock cliches so much as blow through them: The Indian Tower realizes the potential that bands like Dead Meadow flirt with.
