Christopher Nosnibor
It’s hard to conceive that there was a point when Earth were moribund, to the extent their existence was questionable and their re-emergence improbable. By 1996’s Pentastar, they had evolved far beyond the ambient metal drone of Earth 2, there was a palpable sense of exhaustion that wasn’t just about Dylan Carlson’s state, dominated by addiction. The turn of the millennium marked a return, for cure, but 2011’s ‘Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I’ felt like something of a landmark. It may simply be a matter of perspective, and that their touring schedule found them making regular visits to the UK, but since then, a band I never expected to see play has performed every year or so in the north of England. And they’ve never disappointed. There’s something spellbinding and hypnotic about cyclical, repetitive guitar lines played incredibly slowly.
Before doors, there are a lot of overtly middle-aged folks in the bar, and a proliferation of long, greying beards.
Helen Money, returning to the Brudenell after her support with Shellac a while back, starts bang on time and is on the money, swiftly transitioning from delicate strings to booming thunderous barrages of Sound, with dense, dark atmospheres and coarse textured abrasions grating hard to challenge the senses. But there are interludes of stealthy, almost jazz-styled, wanderings.
Helen Money
New track ‘Midnight’ is brooding, seductive, sliding slow and low. Her vascular hand and arms are magical. A swelling hum of crackling static… Then, thunderous drums and sharding distortion overload fizzing with treble explodes. The final piece, ‘Redshift’, is haunting, eerie, to begin, before the final assault, and it’s mighty and concludes a completely captivating set with am apposite finale.
There’s no pomp or ceremony with Earth. No cowboy shirts tonight, and no changes of guitar at any point during the set, which is a celebration of pure tone. They walk on stage, plug in, and Carlson announces the first track before leading in with ‘Cats on the Briar’. Carlson is looking fit and well, and trimmed facially. Everything about him, and the band as a collective, feels sharp.
Earth
Expanded to a 3-piece, they radiate so much depth: the second guitar brings immersive drone that provides a thick, rich backdrop to Carlson’s slow, deliberate lead lines built around picked notes that hang for aeons.
And the drumming… Always the drumming. Adrienne Davies is a reason alone to see Earth play live. She balances immense power and breathtaking grace to create art. Her sticks float. Time slows. Time evaporates. The songs blur into one another and memory slowly melts. And all I can do is watch the arms, the hands, the floating sticks that almost never make visible contact with the skins and the cymbals, despite hefty percussion crashing all around.
Carlson, meanwhile, seem energised, invigorated, and throws classic axe-wielding rock poses while churning chords at 40bpm, and it’s magnificent. The sustain!! Lofting his guitar as a single note rings out for an entire bar risks running into Spinal Tap territory, but in context, it doesn’t just work: it’s everything. Earth live has long been a mesmerising experience, but they’re take it to another level here and I find myself drifting in a vast ocean of sound. At some point I realise that Carlson’s guitar doesn’t actually have woodworm but is intricately etched, which I come to see as an analogue for the layered compositions.
Earth
The choppy discord of ‘The Colour of Poison’ brings a new aspect to the mellow meandering style as they lock into a solid rock groove, and they treat us to a new untitled song which follows the rock trajectory of the set. ‘Rock’ may have semi-derogatory connotations and hint at conventionality, but Earth seems to be teasing with the trappings while continuing to stubbornly eschew the standardisation of any one genre.
Earth
Earth have existed out of time and in their own space: they’ve never sounded like anyone else, and have instead been the band other acts looked to for inspiration (perhaps most famously Sunn O))), who may well have eclipsed their forebears, but simply wouldn’t exist without them), and continue to forge a singular path. There is simply no other band on the planet comparable to Earth and, incredibly, this far into their career, they seem to have reached a new peak.