Of Volcanoes and Distortion Pedals

The best show bills can tell a story through their various acts. The narrative might not be entirely fleshed out, but it's there to be noticed by those lucky enough in attendance. It's a rare show where the different acts come together in a musical Voltron, stronger in aggregate than separate. For Seattlest, Saturday's triple-bill at Neumos told the story of the eruption Mt. St. Helens. It's an admittedly clumsy metaphor, but one that we haven't been able to shake since it sprang forth fully-formed from our head.

The calm before the explosion was Eluvium, product of local musician Matthew Cooper. Composed largely of synth-drones, Cooper's music lulled you into a safe cocoon, where you could lose yourself in the monotony (in a good way). It was life in aural form, moving, shifting, with occasional moments to take you out of your safe routine and force you to pay attention. Seattlest doesn't advocate drug use, but we imagine this would work well in a slightly altered state.

Japan's Mono then took the stage, continuing at least initially with Eluvium's sense of calm. The quiet strains of their start gave little warning other than an increasing tension before the explosion. Critics could write off Mono as formulaic, as their quiet-LOUD!!!-quiet dynamic is at work in all of their output, but that would be a gross oversimplification. Mono's four members evoke a sense of unease through their intrumental compositions, often compared to Godspeed You Black Emperor or Mogwai, with long buildups before unleashing wave after wave of controlled madness. Mono provided the beginning of the eruption, the initial explosions of sound with the following moments of uncomfortable (relative) silence.

With Mono providing only the beginning of the destruction, Pelican was left to supply the rest of nature's wrath, and they did so without relent or hesitation. Where Mono provided moments for rest, Chicago's Pelican provided no such thing, working with a Loud-LOUDer-LOUDEREST!!! formula through the bulk of their set. If Mono is metal for drama fans, Pelican is metal for math nerds, with their sound filled with time signature changes and intricate presentation. Most impressively, they managed to hold their own after an opening slot from Mono, who have repeatedly shamed lesser headliners. The closing portions of Pelican's set saw the end of the destruction, with the doom and gloom finding room for little bits of hope, new life in the ash and embers. It was a fitting close, providing just the right amount of recovery before heading out into the chilly rainy evening.

Photo Credit: D. Nicholson, who holds all rights but is nice enough to let Seattlest use it anyway.