Yeah, I celebrate Earth Day… any day that Earth is playing a nearby show, of course! The legendary Seattle-based group are one of the few genuinely worthy of “iconic” status (an otherwise overused and devalued term), having more or less spawned entire new genres of music in their storied career. With Dylan Carlson its sole constant member, I’d certainly recommend checking out Even Hell Has Its Heroes, Clyde Petersen’s 2023 documentary on Carlson and the struggles and triumphs he has shared with Earth since the early ’90s. I’m going to stop with the biographical details now though, operating with the assumption that most of y’all are already firmly on the same page as me regarding Earth’s towering stature in the world of avant-garde guitar music (and beyond), but if by some chance you haven’t delved into their catalog – too vast and intimidating, maybe? – there’s no reason you can’t remedy that today. As for me, I wasn’t clued in to what they’d been up to lately, or even why they were on tour. All I knew is that Earth were coming to town on a blustery Monday night and I wasn’t gonna miss it.

Up against a few competing events – indie darlings Wednesday at Union Transfer, The Bad Plus at Solar Myth, and perhaps most damagingly, the Philadelphia Eagles taking on the Green Bay Packers on ESPN – the below-capacity crowd at Johnny Brenda’s clearly wanted to be there. There were simply too many other enticing options that evening (including the highly-regarded “staying at home”), and while I was a little surprised (and offended on Earth’s behalf) that the show didn’t sell out weeks in advance, I appreciated the ability to move freely about the room. This included chatting with friends about the opening act Stebmo, the nom-de-plume of one Steve Moore. If you’re like me, when you hear “Steve Moore” you think “Zombi”, and while the prospect of an Earth-opening slot from that Steve Moore still feels entirely plausible, it was a different guy. This Steve Moore is a pianist / trombonist / composer who has played with a list of brow-raising notables to include Sufjan Stevens, Bill Frisell and Sunn O))). With straight brown hair cascading down to his ass, Stebmo sat at his Wurlitzer and coaxed out some dreamy, Sun Ra-esque meditations, his nimble fingers playfully running the keyboard alongside a fresh-cooked cosmic drone. To my delight, he picked up a Casio SK-1 sampler keyboard (a late ’80s childhood classic), held it vertically, and improvised melodies from its hearing-test tone-setting directly into the microphone, the sort of spontaneously beautiful musical gesture I’d expect from Dan Higgs.

Our hearts and minds were clearly open and ready to receive, even down to the stumbling backwards-baseball-cap-ponytail-and-sunglasses guy who was crushing domestics directly in front of the stage. I had heard from a member of Earth that part of Stebmo’s set on this tour involved “a talk”, and after not even ten minutes of music, he put the Casio down, introduced himself, and entered into a kind-hearted ramble. Or should I clarify, extended ramble – Stebmo clearly had some loose parameters in mind for where he intended to take us, but he did so in a boldly unfocused, unhurried way, either not noticing or not caring how frequently he repeated himself or where he was headed. After sharing his gratitude for the audience and Earth, he went into some basic music theory / The Science Of Music details, playing single notes on a trombone and then explaining those single notes to us. Eventually, he concluded his talk with thoughts on the healing power of music. Maybe this doesn’t sound so bad, and I’m not saying it was bad, it was just long, painfully so for anyone in the audience with a lumbar spine over the age of thirty-five (I’d say that accounted for 100% of the crowd). I could feel the patience and goodwill of my fellow attendees draining like old iPhone batteries – Stebmo was a likable person, it’s just that I can’t think of anyone at all that I’d want to stand quietly and listen to for twenty-plus minutes until they eventually settled on the point of “music is a powerful and special thing”. He played himself off with another couple short tunes on the Wurlitzer, as sweetly satisfying as an ice cream cone after working a double shift.

It was barely ten minutes before Stebmo returned to the stage, this time as part of Earth’s ensemble. Turns out we were celebrating some sort of anniversary for Earth’s Hex; Or Printing In The Infernal Method. Twenty years, apparently… jeez! Dylan Carlson took center stage, alongside Bill Herzog on bass, Adrienne Davies on drums, Moore on trombone and keys, and Brett Netson on guitar. Carlson, in his appealingly squeaky speaking voice, explained that the group would be performing Hex in its entirety, and they proceeded to do exactly that. It’s my third favorite Earth record (behind Pentastar and The Bees Made Honey if you’re keeping score), and listening (and watching) them perform it front to back was a real treat. Davies remains the group’s most potent secret weapon, controlling her limbs with the grace and poise of an Olympic fencer. Under Carlson’s leadership, Moore’s trombone filled the room alongside Herzog’s precise bass – it was certainly easy in that moment, following Stebmo, to appreciate instrumental, talk-free music. We were on Earth time, to be sure, and if a clock had been visible on the wall, I’m certain it would’ve slowly blurred itself out. For music that invokes a Cormac McCarthyian vision of the quietly violent American desert landscape, the group looked the part, too. A friend of mine pointed out that Netson bore a striking resemblance to one of the produce purveyors at our local farmer’s market; we later concluded that the entire band looked like they had been selling organic eggs and hand-cut flowers earlier in the day, too late to drive back to Lancaster in their rusty pickup truck.

Having concluded Hex, I required no further sonic nourishment, but they threw us a special treat. Carlson confirmed that Earth are working on a new album, scheduled for tracking in March of next year, and announced that they’d end with a new one from that. It might’ve been called “Scalp Hunter Blues”, but I can’t confirm exactly what Carlson said over the audience’s rousing applause. It should come as no surprise that this song, while different from prior Earth material, was completely great. Herzog opened with an unexpectedly funky bass-line, and the song slowly revealed its form, Moore’s dappled keys recalling a Joshua Abrams Natural Information Society vibe that thrills and chills. Can you believe we’re getting a new Earth album in 2026? If you needed a good reason to stick around for another year, look no further.