WITCH + Earthless @ Les Saints

By Angelica Calcagnile - BVST - 02/21/2009

Ah, Earthless, the perfect soundtrack for a frigid February night. All precise, pummeling, instrumental rock, erring more on the bong hit rather than acid trip side of psychedelic. Trekking out to see them somewhere in the wilds of Brooklyn in 2007 is one of my fondest memories from that year's CMJ festival, and I knew that if this show would be anything like that one, I was in for a treat. The night before that CMJ showcase, guitarist Isaiah Mitchell somehow seriously damaged his wrist, and yet the band still played a blistering, unbroken 45 minute set, his bandage slowly unraveling all the while. That dedication to their craft, as well as their incredible musicianship left me extremely impressed that night, and I was not to be dismayed again here in Montreal.

Now, I believe that in order to be a great instrumental band, you have to work twice as hard as any band with a vocalist. After all, it's easy to distract people away from poor song structure and instrumentation with antics, banter and lyrics... any lyrics, even bad ones. With instrumental bands, however, the music stands alone. Holding the attention of a crowd can be difficult unless you're very skilled, so most fledgling bands should be prepared to soundtrack their audience's conversations, beer runs and bathroom breaks. It takes extraordinary musical craftsmanship to keep a crowd glued to their spot, and Earthless had the room doing just that. They played on endlessly, seamlessly blending together songs into one continuous track that ebbed and flowed and eddied out, only to rush back with a roar. One would think that after 45 minutes, non-stop, it might lose some appeal, and yet the prodigious display of skill onstage is riveting.

They lost me briefly during an extended jam, (with drummer Mario Rubalcaba trying to rein the guitarists in and back on track on a couple of occasions to no avail), but despite that thankfully relatively shortlived bout of wankery, they were as tight and on target as possible. Earthless is not a band for everyone. Their bluesy, ponderous, psych-inspired rock doesn't appeal to all, but if you like heavy music, this threesome strips it down to its barest bones with surgical precision, and that's mastery all music lovers can understand.

Up next was New England's Witch. Having seen them on two previous occasions all the way back in 2006, once supporting the mythical Blue Cheer here in Montreal, and shortly thereafter with Teeth of the Hydra at CMJ in New York City, I was looking forward to a rematch after all these years. I couldn't wait to hear my old favorites from their first self-titled record, and get an introduction to their latest album, which I have managed to avoid since its release. "It's really not that good," I had been told, over and over, and knowing that some stuff sounds better live than on record, I decided that going in fresh was perhaps the best way to try the new material on for size.

From what I gathered, Witch's new stuff is a pretty radical departure from their debut album, and I was unhappily surprised to discover that the band has matched their live sound to the new record. While the first album deftly tapped into the sound and atmosphere of a funeral dirge signaling the end of the Flower Power movement, the new songs have lost a lot of fuzz in favor of fast, messy, angry execution. I was surprised to hear a song or two even dipping into rolling punk rock beats, undoubtedly comfortable Dinosaur Jr. territory for J. Mascis on drums, but not the vibe suited to the much-loved tracks from the first album. Earlier songs that once swelled and sprawled under soaring elfin vocals are now filtered through a layer of grit and rage, and lead singer Kyle Thomas' once sweet, haunting Bolan-esque vocals have been replaced with grating, strident shrieks. On their own, the new songs are probably not that bad, but when you show up expecting to hear Black Sabbath, and get Black Flag instead, you're either going to get your mind blown, or go home disappointed, and I think a lot of fans of the band's first release aren't cleaving to the new album for just that reason. Similarly, I left disappointed that night, if only because what I once knew as a rare, shining diamond of throwback psychedelic drone has morphed into just another generic rock band. That said, the band's last song that night was the mighty “Seer”, the standout track from the first record. That one last taste somewhat sweetened the otherwise bitter quality of that performance... it was a final reminder of just how good it once was.

Finally, the CJLO magazine has been subjected to a lot of bitching on my behalf about Les Saints, and while I could mention the abominable state of the venue, which is steadily sliding from upscale rock club to dive bar (seriously, I dig the fancy fountain sink in the women's washroom, but it'd be even nicer if it, you know, worked), I will mention that I had a really pleasant time that night. The staff is always very polite and courteous, and for the first time in a long time, so was the crowd. Of course, doom/drone shows are always the best for that kind of thing, since at these sausage fests overt appreciation of the music beyond head-nodding is generally non-existent. Oh, and girls, if your ideal man is long-haired and/or bearded and/or flannel clad, there are some good pickings at these shows, as the lovely Steph from Twee Time will attest to... "So this is where all the hot guys are!" The music ain't that bad, either.

Tune into BVST with Angelica every Wednesday from 7PM to 9PM