Earth @ The Corner
"Please don't take any flash photography. It's not that I am an asshole of a person, it's a medical condition . . ."
Earth played rock music so slowly at The Corner Hotel last Sunday night that time itself became sticky the way it does on a very hot day. A warm breeze rippled across a field of grass. Eyelids became droopy and the body fell in with the swaying of stems. The long reverberating chords massaged and soothed the inside surface of the skull. A huge red sun raged harmlessly in a hundred minds as each witnessed the miracle of time. Drummer Adrienne Davies’ arms traced a carefully considered path through the air, folding and unfurling at the elbows and wrists like a bird filmed in slow motion, flapping its wings in a stationary position against a wind tunnel: moving forward gracefully, folding, shoulders rolling, then back. She would often pass the traps without striking the skin, just counting and waving and finally pushing the stick onto the taught surface of a drum or cymbal. It was like watching time-lapse photography of a flower unfurling or an insect emerging from a chrysalis: she was a mesmeric genius.
Cicadas throbbed against the temples in the vibrating heat, standing in lavender to the horizon. The carefully sustained, whining hum of feedback from frontman Dylan Carlson's bright red, hollow-bodied Haagstrom guitar hovered in the dry air above his growling and driven chords. He paced slowly as he played, moving between the front of the stage and a Fender twin amp behind him. Turning slow circles, he gently teased out and held a penetrating drone. It was the bee keeper patiently tending his hives but surrounded by the deafening buzz of bees which could, and perhaps wanted to, kill him. He gathered honey from the skull of a lion. He combed the frames for nature’s sublime sweetness. He emitted and basked in the sonic codex for life on Earth. Bassist Karl Blau used two 4x10 bass cabs and a Fender twin to give his feedback drone extra cut, and he strutted the stage like a giant; his huge footfalls were the rumblings of distant thunder. They were the herald of the cataclysm as the unbearable furnace of the day cracked and gave way to a torrent from the sky. Blau tweaked the machine-heads as he faced his black tower, to align the wooden staff of his instrument with the resonating dynamics of the writhing world. Inside The Corner we felt the energy of the Mother accumulated. We shed our skins and then we were one inside the drone.
BY MONSEIUR OBSCURE
LOVED: Being reconnected with the abstract forces of nature.
HATED: Being ejected for taking flash photography.
DRANK: A cup of silent thoughts, catching the light with the rim.