Fact: Seattle has many talented bands.
Fact: Seattle has the Laser Dome.
Fact: These two things need to come together more often, and Minus the Bear know it.
This week the local supergroup release their highly anticipated, and already critically acclaimed, third full-length record, Planet of Ice. And on Monday, August 20, the night before the record comes out, they'll be playing an in-store at Easy Street's Queen Anne location, which will be followed by a midnight sale of Planet. At that sale, die-hard fans who buy the record will be rewarded with a special bonus disc that's available only with the album's first pressing. The extra CD features a couple of B-sides from Planet, an alternate version of the song "Ice Monster," and a remix of "Knights" done by Rhymesayers' own POS.
Then on Tuesday, August 21, (Planet of Ice's official release date), Minus the Bear, Suicide Squeeze Records, and the Vera Project have opted out of throwing yet another CD-release party where the band play some songs and then call it good. Instead they're going laser, combining the music of Minus the Bear with the same awesome technology usually reserved for Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, and, uh... Korn. That's right: Planet of Ice will be played in its entirety at the Pacific Science Center's Laser Dome.
Dude.
If there was ever a Minus the Bear record worthy of the haze of a laser show it's Planet of Ice, which boasts a more noticeable "stoner-rock" attitude than the band's previous, purely mathematical, existence. Take "Dr. L'Ling": In its near seven-minute journey, it flows from being a confident and haunting rock song into a spacey jam session. The guitars are less staccato, more fluid and loose, and the atmospheric flourishes lend a smoother vibe that will sound especially nice when you're lounging back and watching lights dance on the ceiling.
While a few songs on Planet of Ice tend to carry on a little longer than my attention span can take (a problem I've had with every Minus the Bear release), there's one track on the record, "Lotus," that is almost nine minutes long and worth every second. The closing track, "Lotus" starts out as nothing too remarkable (for MtB, anyways)—but come the three-minute mark it bursts into a cloud of repetitive spiraling guitar riffs over a quick organ. Then the guitar stops, the organ fades out, and it turns into a tunnel of weird, echoing noises—a song from another place, maybe even another planet. Then, after a second-long jam, the song explodes again, back to full-on rock. To experience it with lasers just might be mind-blowing. 
