Originally released in 1995 on cassette tape, Surface of the Earth's self titled album has finally gotten a reissue this year on experimental label Utech Records, who have released several gems in the last few years including albums by Locrian, Daniel Menche and Jazkamer.  The album, one of only two full lengths from this obscure trio, is primarily guitar amp feedback drones, dirty and bass heavy, that crackle and quake with unstable volcanic imperfections.  Recorded long before the modern boom of doom metal bands, there's no actual guitar playing or chord structures to be found here, rather it's more of a noise album, with the only structure created by the sonic consistency each track keeps throughout its running time.

The sound of the disk is somewhat muddy, and accents the mid-range, but actually gives the recording a nice grimy basement feel.  I can tell from the timbre of the drones that this album was recorded very loud.  I imagine every object in the studio, every crevice of the space, was rattling with bass.  Imagining this is in itself a reason to listen to this recording, which certainly portrays great force when played at loud volumes.

"Surface of the Earth" is free from pretensions of "evil", instead maintains an intimate, agoraphobic lethargy which provides a more tangible catharsis.  In this way and others it reminds me of Earth, a band which similarly paints a picture of a daily existential struggle in with the weather-beaten sound of wavering amplifiers.

The album begins very low energy with the somnient 9 minute piece "Arc", among the most murky and formless music to be found here.  The second track "4.02" continues with the same indistinct mid-range harmonic feedback tones, but in a more melodic and focused manner as a single sleepy tone persists for most of the track.  It's pleasing but not engaging.

"Preview" is the first really enjoyable track, a vast, windswept ambient construction of layered feedback that evokes feelings similar to Lustmord's music.  The resonant drone, in this case created by a distorted bass synthesizer cloaked in feedback, circles in a short four note loop for a trance-inducing meditation.  Other layers crackle and burn in parallel directions like layers of clouds covering and uncovering each other in the sky.

"Causer Gird" is 'industrial' music in that it literally sounds like a massive piece of construction equipment, such as a bulldozer or crane, being operated.  An overpowering hum acts as the sound of the motor, and string noise and shrieking feedback tones sound quite similar to twisting sheet metal wreckage.  If you've ever been at the dump, or inside any other warehouse in which heavy machinery was being operated, and enjoyed the sounds around you, this track is for you.  For me, it's too uneventful to listen to actively for the 13 minutes it runs.

"Castle" is a great track, a feedback siren song, an actual attempt to shape unstable high frequency resonances into quasi-melodies.  The result is beautiful and seems to actually congeal into a mantra-like structure around the alternation of two pitches.  A lower frequency bass pulsation glues the entire track together by remaining consistent beneath the rest.

"Voyager" is the most maudlin, melancholy note the group hits on the album, and it's absolutely gorgeous.  A room filling, fuzzy, warm and round tone bends whimsically upward in some kind of nostalgic yearning, and finally just dwells comfortably.  Like the best ambient music, it seems to comment on the passage of time itself, and move at the pace of the wind.  I'm glad it's 16 minutes.

"Library" continues in this nectarous melodic vein, and is similarly wonderful.  "4.55" has an oceanic tranquility about it, settling into stillness in a mesmerizing manner, contrasting the stumbling incoherency of the earlier parts of the album.  The grittier "Sea of Japan" begins with an ominous, brooding tone but ends with a hopeful, carefree tremolo-picked melody (the only obvious bit of real guitar playing on the album) that really expresses a sense of triumph.  It's a great closer.

The album is extremely long at 73 minutes.  To some extent, it makes sense, since all of the music here is very slow paced, and the album does have a certain epic feel about it, and variations in tone and density between tracks show compositional ambition and creativity.  Some of the longer tracks such as "Arc" and "Causer Gird", though, really dissolve the dirgelike momentum the disk could have had.

Patient listeners should find much to love about Surface of the Earth's first album.  Open minded Earth fans who can stand the lack of actual guitar playing should treasure this recording.  I'm glad to have had the chance to let this one grow on me, and it's gained its place in my collection as a sludgy, morose proto-doom/post-grunge guitar noise classic.  I've got to hand it to Utech records for unearthing this one.