Black Mountain. At the Commodore Ballroom on Saturday, April 5

One of the most intriguing parts of the otherwise unbearable Madonna documentary Truth or Dare (which follows the Material Girl on her 1990 Blonde Ambition tour) comes just before the iconic performer takes the stage in her hometown of Detroit. The camera catches the visibly nervous—and normally unflappable—singer in a rare moment of anxiety, demonstrating just how hard hometown shows can be.

At last Saturday’s homecoming show for local heroes Black Mountain, one could have caught a similar moment during the set of opener Ladyhawk. If you had been stage left near the speakers, you might have spotted Steve McBean, the enigmatic Svengali behind Black Mountain. There he stood in the crowd, watching, a look of apprehension on his usually impassive face. Brow furrowed and arms folded, Vancouver’s bastion of psychedelic wizardry appeared, for a moment, to be slightly nervous, before disappearing backstage to do whatever it is he does when we’re not watching him be Steve McBean.

He needn’t have worried. Black Mountain, undoubtedly tired from months of touring, came home and blew the sold-out Commodore away, managing to create something heroic for a crowd full of people who knew them to be mere mortals rather than magicians.

After a charming set of straight-ahead, no-pretence rock from Ladyhawk, the members of Black Mountain took the stage in the manner fans have come to expect: ambling on with their instruments and few words.

Right from the opening number “Stormy High”, the leadoff track from the band’s proggy new album, In the Future, it was obvious that the group’s dynamic has changed since its last local appearance, at Richard’s on Richards in November 2007. McBean appears to be blending himself into the background, ceding space to Amber Webber’s singing and Jeremy Schmidt’s spacy, sci-fi keys. It’s the right move for the group. Over the years, Webber’s vocals and manner have grown from ethereal and timid to beautiful and commanding. And placing Schmidt’s keyboards in the foreground gives the group’s songs both structure and ornament. Indeed, on the middle movement of the orchestral epic “Tyrants”, Schmidt’s keyboards, combined with Webber’s forceful tremolo, recalled the giddy thrill of a teenage trip to a planetarium laser-light show: a mind-expanding experience melding both nostalgia and futurism.

That said, the highlight of the evening was the Neil Young–inspired “Stay Free”, a comedown tune delivered gently and with softness by McBean. In its beautiful simplicity, the song delivered ample proof that the singer-guitarist and his accomplices are more than just talented chancers with an ear for a heavy riff.

If part of the crowd seemed to rush out the door during the encores, you could forgive that: after a set full of thoroughly mind-bending psychedelia, it was impossible not to get a contact high. The best cure for that? The Granville Mall hot-dog cart, serving up stoner-friendly street meat, was just downstairs.