Roy Jurgens on September 25th, 2017

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If you’re ever planning on driving across the desert on a starry night in a fast convertible, Swervedriver’s seminal 1993 album, “Mezcal Head,” will help you outrun the cops and soar straight into the heavens. The Oxford band played that brilliant album and 1991’s “Raise” in their entirety to a packed Teragram Ballroom on Sunday night.

Now old geezers flogging their albums of yesteryear has become de rigueur for a band attempting one last whack at the ever shrinking pinata pony full of money. To those of you born after 1995, “albums” were this entity in which an artist would collect 10 to 15 songs and place them upon a plastic disc in an order that would explore a mood, tell a story or take you upon a musical journey. “Raise” and “Mezcal Head” were both such entities, well-regarded critically and unique in their stature. Suffering label woes and internal squabbles, Swervedriver never met with the popularity they deserved, as their ’90s follow-ups “Ejector Seat Reservation” and “99th Dream” barely made a ripple despite widespread acclaim, causing the band to take a 10-year hiatus in 1998. 

Born in the time of grunge, the Swervies were distant cousins to Dinosaur Jr.’s epic squall, while also displaying aspects of Sonic Youth’s endless guitar meanderings and 4AD-era shoegaze, but sans the hipster sneer and with balls. Oh and one more thing, Adam Franklin can’t really sing, and yet, he can. A blue-noted purveyor of melancholia, Franklin’s voice is a the perfect vessel of vulnerability, coasting atop the amplified crush of layered distortion.  

Sunday’s concert being last of their 16-date, 18-day tour, the show had a feeling of finality to it, with the band firmly in their sweet spot, settled into a comfortable groove but not yet mailing it in out of exhaustion. And yes, the 8 p.m. set time sat well with an aged audience that had likely sorted out babysitters for the evening. The opening jangle of “Sci-Flyer” was met with head bobbing approval and they were off into their debut album, “Raise,” stoically tearing through “Son of Mustang Ford” and the see-saw grunge of “Rave On.” After an hour the band said adios for a welcome smoke break before returning to the stage 15 minutes later and launching into “For Seeking Heat,” the opening track on “Mezcal Head.” The shimmery tension and release of “Duel” followed, with the band hitting full atmospheric re-entry via their Ennio Morricone flavored “Last Train to Satansville” two songs later, which could be described as music best suited for acquiring a speeding ticket. The dreamy “Girl on a Motorbike” was a welcome and much-needed respite from the wall of sound, bleeding into the head-expanding psychedelic wah-wah of “Duress.” With noise-bending whammy bars, “Never Lose that Feeling” closed out the second set, followed by an interesting interpretation of the Velvet Underground’s “Jesus.”

Also worthy of acknowledgment, the theater’s sound production was pristine. Mixing Swervedriver’s sonic jet blast into any semblance of instrumental separation is no mean feat. The band is returning to England to work on their follow-up to 2015’s “I Wasn’t Born to Lose You,” which should see a 2018 release and hopefully another tour, which would suit the sated Gen Xers smoking out in front of the Teragram just fine.