Tobacco is the mastermind behind Black Moth Super Rainbow and he’s in a precarious situation. Actually he’s in number of them, like a man drawn between two women, unable to decide between love and lust. So he dangles ever so in the middle, uncertain of how long he can hang on. Or at least that’s the impression one gets when talking to him. Black Moth Super Rainbow, or BMSR if you’re into the whole brevity thing, has fallen into that wide-ranging genre of psychedelic music that encompasses everything from jam bands to trip-hop. Yet Tobacco doesn’t see it quite like that. “I’d say it’s pop rock,” he said. “Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but I think it will in the future.” BMSR doesn’t have that stereotypical ’60s garage psych sound. It’s more of an ethereal experience. Synth lines are layered over booming beats, while slinky basslines weave the whole thing together. Vocals are filtered through a voxcoder, giving it a spaced-out layer. And there’s another dilemma for Tobacco. The psych genre carries with it a heavy connotation of enhanced listening through the use of heavy drug use — something he doesn’t understand. “It’s not intentionally psychedelic,” he said. “Maybe we are, but we’re not trying to do that.” That stereotype sometimes falls on Tobacco himself. Many think that in order to make such spacey music, the composer must have been on something pretty heavy. But Tobacco (in spite of his name) insists drug uses takes no part in the creation of his music, dismissing the idea as a shallow explanation for innovative sound. “People have a hard time using their imaginations,” said Tobacco. “I think the instant people hear something that’s a little bit foreign to them, they’re like ‘Oh man, you must have been on some crazy drugs to make that.’ They can’t fathom that you can make it without drugs.” Though the idea frustrates him, Tobacco also uses the assumed drug use as a springboard — and a challenge — for his weirdest live performances. “The only thing I could do to have fun with that [the drug-use association] was to project the most disturbing creepiest shit I could,” he said. “So if you were tripping on something it would really fuck with you.” It’s hard to tell that if he does this as a way to cater to the audiences’ indulgences or if he has a more sinister motive to this decision. And paradoxically, it creates the impression that he’s even further out there than previously thought— perhaps even drugged out, despite his claims to the contrary. That tripped-out persona, whether its origin is natural or chemically enhanced, is the reason he uses “Tobacco” in lieu of his real name: He doesn’t want his personal life to interfere with that artistic persona. He knows that the general public has a difficulty in separating person from artist, considering each to be a reflection of true self. “It’s weird and it’s awkward when you’re working somewhere or at a family gathering and people are like, ‘I just read in the paper you just put out a record called “Fucked Up Friends.” What’s that all about?’ or ‘I just read that you’re a fucking asshole in this paper,’” he said. “That was kind of the idea behind it. It didn’t work out at all.” The new record, which Tobacco says has been the most difficult work to date (and subsequently taken much longer to cut), is currently in the process of being recorded. A new approach doesn’t exactly lend itself to optimism about the album, either: “Everyone might end up hating it,” he said. Don’t expect to hear a reproduction of the band’s recorded material at their live shows, though. To play the songs live, Tobacco said, they need to be rearranged for the musicians. Though they came pretty close to doing just that on their last record, “Eating Us,” it’s also something that he doesn’t plan on doing again. “Live is live and records are records,” he said. “Records are interesting because people spend time making them sounds good. I think they should be separate.” BMSR hits the Beachland on September 7, performing as a four-piece. Show starts at 8:30 p.m.; doors open at 7:30.