Black Rebel Motorcycle Club reward Orlando for its patience with powerful, generous performance

THIS LITTLE UNDERGROUND
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Pete International Airport, The Beacham, May 8

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club fans around here are used to having to wait. Late last year, the San Francisco band announced their first scheduled Orlando appearance in over a decade. And then, only 24 hours before showtime, an official announcement of postponement due to that news-making flu that was going around meant that it would be yet another three and half months more. Well, BRMC finally made it back with apologies for the delay. Most importantly, this makeup show did just that.
The trio’s nice, long performance was an even showcase of their signature sides. From their black leather rock diesel to their sweltering backwoods voodoo, and all the sinful mood in between, their rich spectrum was on display and dialed in to the measured swagger that they’ve perfected over the years.
The band even stripped it way down with a couple purposeful solo performances by each of the two frontmen right before the powerful homestretch. But whether going slow and low or straight shotgun, they’ve always been their best when they go big. And when they swung for the fences, they ripped it with burn and stomp.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club never had the lofty mind of some of their artier peers. But they have some wall-kicking anthems that stand as some of modern rock’s most memorable monoliths. And they sure pack a shitload of noise, tone and turbo for a three-piece.
However inconvenient, one nice thing the reschedule did was result in surprise opener Pete International Airport. A Portland band centered around Dandy Warhols cofounder Peter Holmström (their moniker is even lifted straight from a Dandys song), they’ve got deep ties to some of the most royal bloodlines in the psychedelic rock underworld. The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s Anton Newcombe released PIA’s latest album (Safer with the Wolves) and just played here with his band last week, making Orlando familial turf of late.
With its half-lidded consciousness and perpetually disembodied state, their neo-psychedelia is not nearly as playful as Holmström’s primary gig. It’s a drug dream that rides fuzz bass and an electronic edge defined primarily by a rig that looks more like a vintage telephone switchboard than a musical instrument and produces sounds that Black Moth Super Rainbow would covet. The result is a laced frequency that’s on far few uppers than the Dandy Warhols, urging you to soften the focus a bit and come drift with them.
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