Earth Rules

Earth are, if not the greatest band on their namesake orb, at least
greatest of all the other groups with monikers
derived from the
planets—as well as that fiery star that gives us sustenance and
melanoma with equanimity. Whether the Seattle-based band are superior
to Gustav Holst’s The Planets, I’ll leave to more learned
critics. But it’s safe to say that ol’ Gus never gave anyone a bad case
of tinnitus, dude.

Led by guitarist Dylan Carlson, Earth began shifting tectonic plates
in 1990, inspired by the Melvins’ Bullhead and the groaning

intro to Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” which they extended and
distended to grotesque proportions on their ambient-metal masterpiece
Earth 2: Special Low-
Frequency Version, a monolithic
monument to monotony that spawned the drone-doom movement. Appropriate,
since Earth lifted their moniker from Black Sabbath’s original name.
(Earth, in turn, inspired their own tribute band, the highly lauded
Sunn O))).) With Earth 2, Carlson initiated a new kind of sonic
extremism, a monomaniacal implosion of rock’s usual dynamics.

Earth are possibly the only metal band who could merit a remix
album—2005’s Legacy of Dissolution—featuring
contributions from decidedly nonmetal artists like Autechre and Jim
O’Rourke. The late, sainted Kurt Cobain was an Earth fan, and he loaned
grim croaks to “A Bureaucratic Desire for Revenge Part 2” off their
1991 Extra-
Capsular Extraction EP.

After a nine-year hiatus, Earth resumed orbiting in 2005 with
Hex; Or Printing in the Infernal Method. Heralding a new
approach, the album finds Earth letting some air into their trademark
dank density. Hex evokes the poignant desolation and stark
moroseness of Angelo Badalamenti’s scores for David Lynch, but with
more gravitas. The prevalent tempo is a solemn trudge, the prevailing
tone languorous menace. Chords hover in the air and decay and cloud
your head with a lifetime’s worth of lingering regret.

Earth’s 2008 full-length, The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s
Skull, hones Hex‘s style (which was inspired by Cormac
McCarthy’s Blood Meridian) but instills a muted optimism into
the sound.

But enough core contemplating. Let’s see how Earth stack up against
their planetary peers.

Mercury: Mercury Rev used to be among the world’s greatest
rock bands, circa Yerself Is Steam and Boces. But they’ve
been steadily declining since 1998’s Deserter’s Songs, as their
mad psychedelic firepower has downshifted into maudlin, treacly soft
rock. But at their early-’90s peak, Mercury Rev could’ve stood up to
the mighty Earth. Now, even with Earth’s mellowing out, it’s no
contest.

Venus: The competition is weak: Mean Venus (bog-standard hard
rock), Closer to Venus (’80s anglophile rock from L.A.), Leaving Venus
(mediocre indie rock from North Carolina). If songs counted in this
contest, the Velvet Underground’s “Venus in Furs” would be a worthy
challenger—but, alas, songs do not count. Let’s not even talk
about Wings’ Venus and Mars.

Earth: Syracuse, New York, metalcore band Earth Crisis and
Seattle’s Book of Black Earth certainly deliver the chunky heaviness,
but waste their efforts (and our patience) with ugly, bombastic vocals.
Earth, meanwhile, level mountains without a word and, on their two
latest albums, inspire inner peace with an elongated guitar twang. Zen,
motherfuckers. Learn about it.

Mars: The Mars Volta put up a good fight with their
extravagant prog-rock convolutions and vocal acrobatics, but Earth
communicate more effectively and move you more profoundly with a few
notes than do the Mars Volta with 791. Less is more FTW, again. Mouse
on Mars have issued several fantastic releases of
eccentric,
electronic music, but their scattershot track record can’t hang with
Earth’s granite legacy. What about Thirty Seconds to Mars, you ask? Get
the fuck outta here with that heinous Jared Leto vanity project.

Jupiter: This mighty planet is represented by West Hollywood
singer-songwriter Jupiter Sunrise, aka Mark Malik Houlihan. His
conventional folk rock is accomplished but wholly mundane compared to
Earth’s latter-era holy-minimalist desolation blues. Research for this
story also turned up a Norwegian ensemble going by Jupiter who create
pleasant, Medeski Martin & Wood–style jazz funk. Earth win in
a landslide.

Saturn: Ex–Rain Parade guitarist Steven Roback led Viva
Saturn, an understatedly psychedelic rock band in the late ’80s/early
’90s. Only the most obsessive psych follower still cares about Viva
Saturn’s meager output, as groovy as it (sometimes) was. Earth run
rings around ’em—albeit slowly.

Uranus: Next!

Neptune: Crazy—a career’s worth of serious music
archaeology and I’d never heard of the Boston band Neptune, which
started in 1994, until I started researching this story. But their
sound is pretty interesting: abrasive spaz rock played on instruments
made out of discarded items. They generate plenty of fire and friction,
like This Heat, but with more restless song structures. It’s almost the
polar opposite of Earth, but it’s great.

Sun: It might be sacrilege to rate Earth above jazz legend
Sun Ra, but Sun Ra was not really human, so let’s arbitrarily
disqualify him. And Sun City Girls are too inconsistent to knock Earth
off their axis.

Advantage: Earth. Eat their dust.