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Yowie - Cryptooology CD (album) cover





3.23 | 20 ratings

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5 stars When I first heard this record, It came in my mind at once, perfectly clear, the meaning of it all.

This guys took Killing Time by Massacre (Fred Frith, Bill Laswell and Fred Maher) - especially the amazing Legs, a masterpiece deconstruction of the skeleton of rock'n'roll - and expanded in every direction the concept. In the incipit of Tenesha You can even have the impression to hear the damper trumpet opening Surfing, but it's just another wizard trick by the guitars.

It's pure mindboggling the nake results: I mean, You can't really sit by to the (apparent) sonic mayehm. But the superficial approach is rapidly overhelmed by how they manage this reconstruction. Nothing is random here. It's not mathcore... but math is the basis of all this musical object. The more You listen, the more You get it.

It's impossible to describe the single parts of this record, as You can't glean a single element from the body of this work, which have sense in its integrity, and, Yes, have sense only if You accept all the ear-torture entirely. The strenght of this record is his unconfortability. But as latin said Per Aspera ad Astra, meaning You have to suffer to reach Your aim. This record is suffer for real, but there's a aim and there will be a reward for who will resist.

Trying to give some reference for who wants to understand what kind of record is this, I can say it's a continuous duel between a couple of guitar. On Skin Graft website they call it sonic Kung Fu: a perfect definition! They recall Arto Lindsay's work on first record of Lounge Lizards: 1000 times more technical but with the same impression they substituted the normal guitar strings with 6 rubber bands. The music is in fact kind of elastic, continuosly bouncing from note to note. The drummer never plays the same rhythm for more than 1 or 2 seconds, he acts as a third instrument while he manage to keep a spastic, frenzy monster polythythm, in a manner very similar to Ari, drummer in Cause for Effect.

I pondered a lot before giving five stars, but I think that a radical and so maniacally compulsive event like this album deserves it. This is, in my opinion, a product who belongs to the class of Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica, or Red Krayola's Parable of Arable Land, or US Maple's Talker: records who pushed the music out of even the most daring paradigms, and as a true lover of any progressive expression I consider this is the first mission of the genre. This is a point of no return, and I'm so displeased for people who are too mainstream-minded (the famous WalMart-Proggers) to appreciate this astonishingly lucid Masterpiece.

Hox | 5/5 |


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