Earthless, Brubaker, Joy
Harlow’s, Sacramento • Friday, Oct. 18, 2013
Words by Andrew Scoggins
Earthless is the kind of band you feel compelled to talk about with your friends. Earthless is also the kind of band that will likely damage your hearing irrevocably without earplugs. And yet, it’s completely worth it.
Last Friday’s psychedelic freak-out at Harlow’s got started on a decidedly loud note when San Diego-based openers Joy took the stage. After the band took a shot with a fan and asked the 20-person crowd to please come closer, the band began to shred. The verb “shredding” doesn’t seem to quite do the band justice. It’s almost as if the band came together in the beginning, listened to some Led Zeppelin and decided all the songs needed to be in double time and they all needed at least five to ten more guitar solos per song.
{Brubaker}
Joy smashed through song after song at a breakneck pace. And although there were a few precious moments, like on their new track “Evil,” where the band slowed down to allow some of their bluesier riffs to breathe, the majority of time the members spent thrashing as quickly as they possibly could. Guitarist Zach Oakley hardly touched the lower end of his fret board, drummer Paul Morrone lost a stick between smashes and kept going, and it’s possible that bassist Justin Hulson took more solos than Oakley did. Sadly much of this wild and reckless jamming was lost on the sparse early crowd, but expect big things from this young band.
{Brubaker}
As people trickled in, Brubaker began setting up. Brubaker is a band that has deep roots in the Sacramento scene. Singer Gene Smith and drummer Neil Franklin both played in Kai Kln; they even played a few shows with Pearl Jam and Nirvana back in the grunge-y heyday of the ‘90s, and they certainly brought the grunge to Harlow’s. What started as straightforward rock ‘n’ roll with an almost southern-rock tinge quickly shifted into blown out, drop-D, nearly Motörhead territory halfway through their set.
Their smattering of fans (most of whom looked like they saw Brubaker playing with Pearl Jam) roared in approval. The most vocal of whom were two larger tattooed middle-aged women. They were spilling out of their skinny jeans, drunkenly swaying and grinding on each other like they were at a Def Leppard show, which was certainly something.
{Brubaker}
Finally, Earthless came on stage and threw down the gauntlet. Strumming a few warbling notes of feedback, guitarist Isaiah Mitchell nodded to drummer Mario Rubalcaba and the band’s jet engine took off. It’s tempting to say that there’s no band in the world that can simply go the way Earthless can; please allow me to explain why:
Mitchell began with a face-melting solo. That term’s a shoddy cliché at this point but there is simply no other way to describe the sheer visceral emotion of hearing a man pluck so many perfect notes in quick succession that the skin of your face smashes backward from the distortion until it’s simply too much, and it plops down lifelessly to the floor. There was a small voice whispering in the back of my head saying, “There’s no way, there’s simply no way they can go faster,” and then Mitchell looked over at Rubalacaba and Rubalcaba grit his teeth and his sinewy arms beat the skins even faster. The music spun out of control upward and onward. It looped through breakdowns and crescendos, propelling the crowd far out of the dimly lit room.
{Earthless}
There were no words. Earthless is for all intents and purposes an instrumental band only and that’s OK, because words would almost be a distraction from the utter sonic insanity. There was a story traipsing across the tongue of every slowly bent guitar lick, the footsteps were beaten into the earth with every stomp of the bass drum and the whole thing was kept alive by that throbbing heartbeat of the bass line. It became so total, that at the close of each 15 or so minute song you almost felt lost, unsure of the next step to take, but then the distortion growled back to life and you were safe again, swept up into the music.
Then again, if this is all too much stoner hyperbole, Earthless is just pretty fucking rock ‘n’ roll. If Earthless was the soundtrack to a movie, it’d likely be a pulpy Heavy Metal hyper-violent romp. There would be gunfights, car-chases, half-naked women and more explosions than would really be feasible on any Hollywood budget. And it’d probably be set in space.
It’s a shame Harlow’s was only about half full for the majority of Earthless’ set. They’re a band you almost feel obligated to tell your friends, co-workers and grocery-store bag ladies about. Do yourself a favor, listen to Earthless, come to their next show in Sacramento and find me in the pit. I’ll be there, and I’ll probably be sweaty.
