by Emily Nokes
I managed to get to the front plus (front plus = the place roughly in between sitting on the drummer’s lap and cuddling the PA) during the last set of the evening, the much anticipated Mtns. I filled my ears with a set of rubbery plugs that I think are supposed to be “fancy” and for “hearing all the sound levels equally approved by Guitar Center,” but maybe not ideal for when you’re speaker cuddling. I was happy to lose whatever hearing I have left, completely immersed in the organ-shaking waves of noise. I was surprised at how easily I recognized the songs. It was clammy to the point of indoor fog. Mtns was in their underwear. I wished we could all be.
At one point, a dudely looking button-up guy turned to me and enthusiastically tried to tell me something. I took out an ear plug out so he could point at Mtns and say “they just moved in across the hall from me.” Color me impressed!
by Megan Selling
One of the best performances of 2012 was by Seattle experimental rock band MTNS, which played an impromptu street show outside the Capitol Hill Block Party. As people exited the festival, thinking they’d reached their limit on musical input, they were greeted by two stacks of amps and a man in white underpants wearing some kind of animal mask pounding on the drums while his bandmate calmly noodled on a guitar with more precision than a brain surgeon. A crowd of a dozen or so turned into more than 100. At first, it looked like a novelty, but it became clear that this duo was exceptionally talented—"Who is this?" people whispered to each other. Tonight’s show won’t be nearly as unexpected, of course, but given MTNS’ inclination to blow minds with their onslaught of well-rehearsed bedlam, it is likely to be just as memorable.
by Emily Nokes
Mountainnsss, MTNS, Mountainss—I am pointing out Mtns’ various name options so you understand they could be lurking closer than you think—and let me tell you, you don’t want to miss having your skull shattered/face melted/noise needs fulfilled just because you weren’t sure if it was the Mtns. Such a name could be perceived as serene and folkie, but that would be incorrect, thankfully. Mtns is precise chaos. Abrupt spikes, deep, witchy droning, LOUD EVERYTHING. Their latest release, All Songs Are Spells (currently available as a tape on Trench Art, official LP release slated for sometime in 2013) lures listeners into a house made of candy before paralyzing them and stuffing them into an oven—blaring entropy finds screeching, satisfying organization.
by Brittnie Fuller
They might be the Seattle DIY band that value the name change most, but whether they are Mountains or Mountainss or Mtnss or Mtns, the trio of shredders use controlled chaos to cast spells on the melted faces of Seattle showgoers. Drummer Dan Enders is also one of the more prolific noise musicians around. His side projects (which currently include V.D and his latest project, Ruminations, with Jamey Braden) are constantly blowing up my news feed
by Jason Baxter
As fun as RG were, it was the MOUNTAINSS/Monogamy Party mash-up that directly followed where shit got seriously next-level. The bands fired off songs in a ballistic back-and-forth, and the tiny, densely packed, and sweaty room where they performed was rife with delirious abandon and the people indulging in the usual spaz-out gestures: headbanging, fist-pumping, creating havoc. The whole thing culminated in a frenzied jam-out where MOUNTAINSS kit-basher Dan Enders distributed sticks to the crowd and people went to town on the floor toms with a locked-in 4/4 groove. Elsewhere, I’m pretty sure there was writhing, moshing, and make-outs (it was hard to tell—I was one of the drum-pounders at the end there). You could tell everyone was lost in the moment and loving it. More, please.
DJ Ho-hum Enthusiasm’s Top 10 Shows of 2010
MOUNTAINSS is one of those bands that sounds like total chaos if you’re not paying attention, and then when you pay attention you realize that it’s a very careful, deliberate chaos and your head explodes
By Jason Baxter
MOUNTAINSS performances tend to be as wild and wooly as possible, so I knew I had to be up close for their free-wheeling set. It may have proved too much for some of the face-painted Yellingham youth, however. I’m not sure at what point the room dissipated-when a kick drum was perforated halfway through (a replacement was promptly brought downstairs), when the band members spat water into one another’s mouths, when a Small Black box was brought out and knobs were tweaked, causing shrieks of high-wattage noise to vomit out of the speakers-but I loved every minute of it. It’s too bad the garage had virtually emptied by the time Shearing Pinx were on; MOUNTAINSS’ blaring saxophone, manic drumming, and finger-tapped octave-up bass riffing were awesome, as was the Pinx’s cacophonous set-ending epic. MOUNTAINSS drummer Daniel Enders joined the B.C. band on saxophone, and together they jammed on “Marked Man” for what seemed like an eternity of blown-out bliss. Guitars were played with drum sticks crammed violently between their strings, blurts of saxophone intruded like the snorts of wild elephants, and drum patterns changed on a dime. It felt like dissolution, like a window shattering in slow-motion-a weird way to cap off such a competently-run and virtually snafu-free festival
Show Review: U, MOUNTAINSS, Sam Humans, Masters & Johnson at Healthy Times Fun Club
by Jason Baxter
MOUNTAINSS played next, and after setting up, they momentarily disappeared “backstage” while an ambient guitar loop played ad infinitum. When the band reemerged, their bassist was shirtless and the drummer and saxophone player (hell yes) were in dresses. They jangled some bells (and this one funky windtube sorta thing that I recognized from my own stash of offbeat instruments), picked up their gear, and then proceeded to power through an absolutely relentless set of music. A percussive precedent was set for the rest of the evening, and no band that followed would slack on the drum front. It was as sweaty and energetic a set as I’ve seen in awhile and it culminated in the saxophonist and bassist tackling each other and wrestling around on the floor for a sec.