Issue 7: Gulch – Impenetrable Cerebral Fortress

On ending it.

Part I: Legacy

“This is the terror: to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, consiousness of self, deep inner feelings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression and with all this yet to die.” So wrote Ernest Becker in his seminal work The Denial of Death. Indeed, despite humanity’s greatest efforts, we may never transcend annihilation.

Of course, this has not stopped Homo sapiens from trying. Literally, in the sense of seeking ways to remain on this mortal plane just a bit longer, but also metaphorically, through creating works that will have us be remembered – and thus, grant us spiritual immortality. Oh, how we yearn to be remembered!

As such, fame is a drug that few musicians can withstand. It’s the reason we find artists who once created the greatest works of their generation trying to wring out one more album, more often than not either releasing a watered down version of their greatest successes or spiraling so wildly out of control with a new sound as to completely miss the mark on what their work added to the world in the first place.

Creative success is a razor-thin line to traverse, but the lure of that sickly sweet adoration proves too hard to resist for many. Regardless of the lyrics sung, the musician’s true call is nothing short of “remember me”.

It’s why quitting at one’s peak is such a hard decision, and is considered a respectable practice. Of course, the fans will crave more, intertwined with their idol’s immortality tales as they are, but at least what was created before, shall forever be.

If the creative magic has run its course, it’s time to let go and find remembrance elsewhere. Because make no mistake: continuing a decaying legacy can only hurt one’s chances at metaphorical eternal life.

It’s easy to forget an artist whose work becomes less relevant as the years go on. And not everyone can American Recordings their way out of a career slump. Even the later American records provided diminishing returns. So when the time comes and one sees the fuel gauge slowly dropping towards E, perhaps hanging up the guitar might be the way to go.

So then, keep riding that thin line and hope you can keep it together until the Grim Reaper finds his way to your doorstep? Or hang it up and know when enough’s been enough, hoping that the legacy you’ve built will hold up under the always punishing hand of time?

Perhaps there is another way. One could grab the future by the back of the neck and point it where you want it go. The ride will be fun and where we end up, who can say? Point down center field and swing for the fences.

So it seems to be with Gulch.

Part II: A violent inclination

“We had a plan before this LP came out, and we may stick to it and we may not, but the plan was: come out with the LP, use that as a jump pad to go to the next level, then self-release an EP like a year later and then break up immediately,” said guitarist Cole Kakimoto to Bandcamp last year. “It’s hard to say whether or not we’re going to stick to that, but Gulch can’t be forever.”

Regardless of the details of the plan (are we owed one more EP, for example? Or does the split with Sunami mean we can tick that to-do off the list?), it’s the final four words of that sentence that matter the most: Gulch can’t be forever. It’s a statement that flies int he face of why humankind makes… anything, really. We create, so as to live forever!

And here stands someone who plainly says that one of the most successful endeavors they’ve taken part in, is not destined to last.

So far, the band has kept word. At time of writing, a modest, eleven date final tour has been set up.

At the time this quote was published, Impenetrable Cerebral Fortress had just come out. With a 16-minute run time, calling it a Long Play might be a bit generous, but it seems core to the Gulch experience that the band never outstays its welcome. And regardless, a tad over a quarter hour just might be the perfect amount of Gulch to consume in one sitting. Much more, and perhaps one would be so inclined as to start throwing hands at anything in reach, such is the infectious violent energy emerging from the speaker.

If the dear reader of this piece has read previous issues of Terror Management, it should be clear I consider ‘genres’ beyond useless in the parlance surrounding the modern day musical landscape. As such, I refuse to put any effort into trying to capture Gulch’ music in a single word. Just know it’s incredibly loud, maddeningly fast and aggressive beyond the pale.

The madness could possibly be best described as a hardcore band for which hardcore itself just didn’t cut it anymore in terms of raw energy. If listening to this record does not fill your heart with fire, check your pulse.

There’s an unhinged quality to the sound, despite the music feeling fairly controlled. There’s not much of a risk of a song flying off the rails on this record, but instead there’s an extreme focus throughout every track, like the destructive path of a bullet flying fast and straight.

Part III: The end

There might not be a human alive today who knows if this is the last we’ll see of Gulch. The allure of a reunion tour is always strong, especially for bands who have cultivated a cult-like following the way this bands has.

I’m not inclined to speculate. I don’t know these guys. I don’t know what’s in their minds.

But why wouldn’t it be the real end, when Gulch has already been able to have such an impact on an entire music scene? When their entire recorded body of work – which ends up being less than an hour’s worth of music – is so revered already?

The band’s path is destined to be a tale of underground music canon. Years from now, we’ll be regaled in oral history books by show-goers and members of the scene with stories about intense Gulch shows. Its legacy is secured.

In that sense, the band’s job is done. I’ll be sad to see it go, but the decision is respectable. Better to leave 45 minutes of gold than hours of shit.

Transcend death on the back of a bullet.