REVIEW: Mountain Man, Dead Tongues @ the Sinclair 10/27

By Lani Weil

“I’ve been waiting to see these guys for a real long time and now I get to 20 times,” said Ryan Gustafson of the Dead Tongues. As the opener’s exclamation showed, the anticipation of Mountain Man’s latest release and tour had the audience humming with excitement and left us hungry for more.

For the past six years, fans have soaked up every word and note from Mountain Man’s only release, Made the Harbor. Consisting of 13 tracks, the 2010 album on Partisan Records glides as if one continuous song. Their new release, Magic Ship on Nonesuch Records, re-establishes the seamless flow between tracks while weaving in a new array of expanded narratives and harmonies.

Mountain Man is the product of three Bennington College students who, in the isolated mountains of Vermont, discovered the harmony of the hills and valleys. Through their music, members Molly Sarle, Alexandra Sauser-Monnig, and Amelia Meath have knit a veritable sweater for all who listen to sway and coo along to. Since their initial release, Meath, a Cambridge native, has been touring and releasing music as the co-founder of Sylvan Esso. While Sylvan Esso traces melody through vocal mixing and electric sampling, Mountain Man is a bare-bones operation, with strong and soaring vocals accompanied only sometimes by the soft strings of an acoustic guitar.

With a capacity of 525, the Sinclair can feel like a dark, cold, roomy hall, each audience member aware of the space between them, but on Saturday night, the crowd was shoulder to shoulder, eyes glowing with delight and excitement.

As the trio appeared through the curtains, the smokiness of the stage created an eerie atmosphere with the opening notes of “Blue Mountain,” every word hanging on the crowd. Meath’s vocals began somberly with Sarle and Sauser-Monnig carefully weaving into the peaks of each note. The song has a nostalgic resonance, as if you are listening to a mountain singing about its peer. The effective threading of regret and hope hold until the very last note. Immediately following, the first single from their recent release shifted the mood. The upbeat pulsing of the guitar plucking was immediately met with recognition from the crowd. The swaying hand movements of Alexandra and Amelia was mirrored by the crowd, tracing melody with hips and shoulders.

The three ladies ecstatically expressed their respective excitement about performing in Cambridge, the majesty of being back on tour, and their collective fascination and glee at their exploration of the Boston Aquarium. Meath, noting her familiarity with the Cambridge scene, harped on the iconic dreary Massachusetts’ fall day. Her smugness shined as she described her earlier romp down Mass Ave. where she declaratively conducted her umbrella as a marching band leader would do. Their banter struck into the feeling that their albums both illuminate that feeling of being comfortable, warm, and welcome.

Throughout their set, the three would join together as one, arms tucked behind one another’s back, joined physically and sonically. Aware of their bodies as much as the careful intonations of their harmonies, their shifting of lead was balanced throughout the whole set. As songs selections traced the span of both albums, it was a completely different experience to be in the presence of the music. Their harmonies rise and fall like the peaks their band name alludes to. The layers of vocals that the three create carry in diverse ways and seek out patterns that establish rhythm, melody, and bass all at once. Even when they faltered to remember the next line of “Dog Song,” a soft yodel-song from their first album, they laughed it off, together regaining momentum with louder and emphatic lines.

The moment that solidified the trio as harmonic perfection was when the opening line of Fiona Apple’s “Hot Knife” emanated from Meath. Sarle weaved in and the crowd’s recognition could not be contained upon Sauser-Monnig’s harmony floating on top of Meath’s lead. Unity was established through cacophony. Due to the precise sound patterns, rhythm, intricacies, and subtlety, Fiona Apple creates a tough precedent for vocalists. However, Mountain Man effectively brought the crowd to their toes and jubilantly made it their own.

By the encore, “Bright Morning Stars”, the cooing and swaying of the crowd had not stopped. Through anecdotes of lost love, new love, majestic creatures of land and sea, mundane gifts of underwear, and growth, Mountain Man brought a room full of strangers together and made them feel at home.