23

SUNDAY

Made up of local guys reliving past lives as Black Sabbath, Dead Meadow sounds just like this band I heard in an abandoned airplane hangar outside Shippensburg, Pa., back in 1979. It’s a night that stands out in memory because I (1) got plastered on Iron City beer and (2) proceeded to piss on an electric fence. It was very traumatic. Ever since then, I’ve been unable to listen to Sabbath—or even look at agricultural fencing, for that matter—without shuddering. Dead Meadow plays a shudder-worthy brand of sludge-rock so weighted with heavy-metal history that just listening to it will cause your hair to grow 6 inches and turn your straight-legs into bell-bottoms. I’m looking forward to seeing the band in an environment where Iron City is unavailable and I can relieve myself without fear of electrocution. It’s bound to be fun. And, in my case, therapeutic. Dead Meadow performs with Stewart Stevenson and Ivory Calzonetti at 8:30 p.m. at the Black Cat, 1831 14th St. NW. $5. (202) 667-7960. (Michael Little)