Wednesday, October 05, 2005

RHY Yau

Okay, I admit it: Yau is underrated.

Had a look back through the old tapes. Seems I had totally ignored the entire string of Auscultare output. I obligingly eat my words.

So, by way of apology, I offer these brief comments on some of Yau`s mid/late 90`s cassette output:

Stimbox+Yau - :stim:yau:/:yau:box: C60 (HLAS)
"Part 1 in a two-part collaboration".Released around the time of the Mo*te masterpiece, "Life in a Peaceful New World" (HLAS), this beautifully dense foray into the harsh harmonic resonances of amplified spring, string, voice and buzz, offers everything you ever wanted in a harsh, industrial-strength drone, and does for the field everything Mo*te did for ultraharsh ambient-flavored noise. A Stimbox world ascending, Yau hanging on the edges. Slowly developing, enveloping crystal shards sleet across the perimeter of a roiling central inferno. Truly gargantuan depths moon and moan within glittering, skittering crooks and crannies. Feedback slides from clean sheen back into dreamy dust-choked caverns, submerged reverberations scraping metallic screeching luster delving diving deeper deeper still the whirlpool pull sucks the noisebrain into thunderous angelic hell, somehow growing larger larger, blotting out everything, more, the name, not, nothing, drone...

NoiseGrade: A
Harshness: 6.4
Density: 8.6
Rawness: 7.3
Craftsmanship: 7.4
Spasticity: 6.4
Harmonicaness: 9.8


:RHY:Yau:Stimbox: - Tactile C60 (Auscultare)
"Collaboration Part II"Following the release of Part 1 on HLAS, this Yau/Stimbox collaboration sees much more Yau in the structural unfolding and articulation. If liner notes ring true, Stimbox supplies only "sound source" this time around, making it less the pure collaboration featured in Part 1, and more the Yau-pulated Stimbox reworking. Yau jumps in lozenge first, hacking and weezing at an ill-tempered bludgeon which gradually works its way into a solid spluttering, grumbling mess. If Stimbox enters the picture at all, then, it is in a much reduced capacity, gasping and sputtering against Yau`s unforgiving tonsils and tongue-work. Hogtied, branded, dragged kicking and screaming through razor`d sphincter-flesh and whirlwind ass-swipe, frenetic chainsaw wheezing splices into stop-action fidelity and badly burnt tape-head... winking out and off before the raging besquashed Stimpy behemouth is allowed but a floppy few playful plugs against a calmly controlled acoustic ding-a-ling and savage oral choking.

NoiseGrade: A
Harshness: 6.2
Density: 7.1
Rawness: 7.2
Craftsmanship: 8.8
Spasticity: 9.3
Harmonicaness: 3.1


:D.Wright:/:RHY:Yau: - Void Fraction C60 (Auscultare)
Mr Wright does a nice whispery slithered slather amongst encroaching, gasping, gas-chamber smokestra, but this string of reviews is focusing on the Yau man and therefore, those few lazy comments are all he gets. Sorry. Yau, for his part, goes a little quieter on the ass. Way quieter, in any event, than on either of his collabs with Mr Stimbox. Gurgles glint and lurch through crooked creaks and distant amplified hum. Comes at you in slow, polychronic spins and squeaks. Sphincter relinquished in favor of oversexed tonsil massage, masculine grunt, orangutan hawk, feline purr. Spittle drizzles and drains out the furball cuntmouthed ejaculant. Nostrils puckered and unplugged panting ambient backwash, reversed, orgasmic shudder. Lost in space for imprecise moments, Mork cracking in and out of psychedelic flatulence, going ape-shit, chucking it all in for the inevitable bloodclot rage.

NoiseGrade: B+
Harshness: 4.2
Density: 6.9
Rawness: 7.6
Craftsmanship: 8.8
Spasticity: 7.8
Harmonicaness: 3.9


Government Alpha / RHY Yau - split C60 (Auscultare)
Alpha is as Alpha does: brilliant, constantly evolving cycles and surges, ripping new bungholes with radically brutal arse-shredding abandon. Frenetic pushes, frenzied pulls, feel the paint peel, the ears bleed, the bowels give out. And that`s all I`m going to tell you, because, as we got into earlier, our focus for the moment is upon Mr Yau. Due apologies. On with the Yau: a tad louder than material submitted on the before-mentioned split with Mr D. Wright. Did I say a tad louder? UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLY LOUD. Powerful nail-gun axe-grind punching hard and fast against what sounds like the world`s least successful wine-tasting. Caught in the ongoing battle of spitting and swallowing, a bad-tempered wallowing pig-snort snuffling invades the scene, saying hello to his little friend: recurrent ejaculatory interruptus on a truly earhole-piercing scale. Breakneck shrieking fits, percussive crumbling decibels beyond a red-zone bloodbath thick with rusted tinpot cornhole scathe. The voice gives out, gives in to wickedly fierce hyperpastic gasolineman lightning-seethe, raging roars overpowering all senses amid the accelerated rush and random spasm. Best sex I never had.

NoiseGrade: A
Harshness: 8.9
Density: 7.9
Rawness: 8.5
Craftsmanship: 9.3
Spasticity: 8.5
Harmonicaness: 2.1


RHY Yau - Monochrome Series III: White Issue: Live Document C90 (Auscultare)
Starts into it with a no bullshit no holds barred blistering blast. Vocal cords spun tight and barely discernable in the slathering spasmodic spread. Then a dip into more subtle regions. Experimental probing deep inside unseen quarters containing propellor driven false teeth chattering aimlessly under a waterlogged lumberhouse. Wooden wheels spin out through splunking dunking drip and drag. Fluttering insect wings batter ineffectually against a very slowly sucking drainpipe, rubber wax drip, curdled blood-pool, congealed fat. Gets bored, and then, just as you`ve upped that volume up all the way up to max... ARGH! FUCK! ME! Should have seen this one coming. The congealed poop lurches to leering life and hits the frantic fanboy with brain-boring bleats and buzzing electronic crinkles opening onto brief whitewashed blisterscorch phrasing and nameless slip and crackle. Side Two engages the frazzled nerves more immediately with tap-dancing buzz-bearing needle grind and bubblebutt screech-snort. Rickety ultraharsh weedle seethes steams and stammers out a crass litany of rapidly chiseled rustshred slapdash squeegy-scrunch. All stops come out in due course as upper-edged sonic extreme is topped by new sonic extreme, escalating straight off the charts, flying completely off tape, in fact, before settling back into burbled bunghole flagellation and limping buttsnuffle. A final slew of squeal-resistant crumbling crunches accentuate a reverberant cursive snort.

NoiseGrade: B+
Harshness: 7.5
Density: 6.4
Rawness: 6.8
Craftsmanship: 9.0
Spasticity: 7.7
Harmonicaness: 6.1


RHY Yau - Anti-Linear - Terminal One C60 (EMRL)
Quite the experimental divergence for Mr Yau, if that`s possible. Plenty of scope amid gleefully exploited room for maneuverability. As a bonafide Noiseperv [insert pickle up butt](tm), I can only grudgingly review something this short of legitimate harsh noise. What saves it from ejectbuttonitis is the overall diversity and ingenuity Yau crams into the package. Starts out nice and easy on the ol` earholes. Silent passages interspersed with brief, brittle, intermittent experiments in low fidelity, on par with some early Francois Douris. Tape-manipulated "spoken word" bits babblogically spewed a la Eric Lunde (to keep dropping names like the pretentious fuck I am), fighting for coherence inside sewage drains and burbling boulder heave-ho. Brilliant poetic moments bring a tear to the eye: "Temporal auditory analysis of acoustic events in various frequency channels is influenced by the ability to detect amplitude modulations which for normal hearing involves low-pass filtering, with a cut-off frequency around one hundred hertz and a rejection slope of about ten decibels per decade." Tin can circular scrape and slither amid non-stop bevy of belch interuptus. Ye olde harsh ante steadily ups inside rumbling, cling-clang speckled gristle. Erratic exchange of sci-fi scratchy hissy-fit, cut-up crinkled paper mache nostril action. Side two features another live bit from the "Amplified Capacitance" series prevalent in the Monochrome Series III reviewed above. Significantly louder, in other words, a densely compacted assault on all seismic fronts, throwing spring-loaded strobe flashes at undulating pools of liquid xenon, radio dials spinning in confused circles as chainsawed anvils randomly catapult into freebase emergency ward bongshow with wildly percussive abandon. If things simmer down, its only because most of the percussive elements have been dumped down the bilgepipe, affording a not-so-neatly hammered out look at decayed tinhorn riptide.

NoiseGrade: B
Harshness: 2.1
Density: 2.3
Rawness: 7.1
Craftsmanship: 8.5
Spasticity: 8.2
Harmonicaness: 2.2


Contagious Orgasm / RHY Yau - Collaborations 1997 2xC60 (Auscultare)
No it`s not harshnoise. Now, FUCK OFF! It would be intriguing to hear what Mr Yau could bring to the excessively layered rhythmic droning of Contagious Orgasm. The answer is: something that sounds rather a lot like Yau Proper. Can`t complain. Shit`s more than digestible when delivered fresh from Lozenge Boy`s frenetic anus. Ahem. The Collaborations divide neatly into two sides worth of Contagious Orgasm solo (or so the liner notes suggest), and two sides worth of "Contagious Orgasm vs RHY Yau", split up between White Tape and Black Tape. White Tape starts us off with a Contagious Orgasm directed study of chanting religious fanaticism traced through cantankerous squealing and random crystal-meth glitches, sinking slowly into a spacious, atmospheric styled oblivion, giving rise to tribal beats and glowing gas-jet assblow. Now to the Yau. Utterly mangled remnants of choked off Orgasm clamber into infinitely deep bomb shelter sheet metal bumbiscuit, heartfelt hack and spurt chirping and chipping away at distant porcelain meatgrinder. Grind action precipitates much of the remainder, traces of regurgitated flesh filtered through twisted haze of spoked pinwheels. Black Tape finds Yau opening the set, and Yau putting a much more the coherent mark on the end product, leaving very little appeal for the more Orgasmically inclined. Those who didn`t heed my earlier invitation to fornicate elsewhere may well be rewarded: the shit`s plenty harsh and not at all easy on the earhole. Deepthroat mic gurlge slurps, slobbers and drops a load of flatulant flutter twizzling spunky drizzle and spittle-soaked bungbath. Raging yeast roars to lickity split simmering vapo-rub, reaming the ringed rubberized kneeburn blister, grating catcalls, growling gobsnot, digging in sludge encrusted grit. Contagious Orgasm applies the finishing touches: long drawn-out shimmering dirge, lightly sheened oscillating buzz, weezing slow and steady over a darkly rich suggestion of infinite depth and warm smoke-clouded echo-chamber hinting masses of mutated metalwork twisting and twining in unhurried ease, peppered with a few good dings which signal the inevitable exit. As all semblance of metallic resonance starts to unravel, a small urinating dog begins to grow in size and substance gushing dimmed-down waterfalls of submerged essence over corrugated rust and deeply buried bone. Woof woof.


NoiseGrade: C
Harshness: 3.2
Density: 8.3
Rawness: 0.6
Craftsmanship: 8.7
Spasticity: 0.2
Harmonicaness: 7.9

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1 Comments:

Blogger Jon Silpayamanant said...

Holy shit Jason--looks like you beat me to some reviews! That's ace!

9:31 AM  

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