Press

Talibam! (Kevin Shea on drums, Matt Mottel on keyboards) and peeesseye (Jaime Fennelly on electronics, Chris Forsyth on guitars and Fritz Welch on drums) have been pals and Evolving Ear labelmates for a while now, so it was only a matter of time before they all got together and let it rip. And rip this certainly does, driven on by the double-barrelled percussion attack, underpinned by Fennelly's drones and scribbled all over by Mottel and Forsyth, whose wild gonzo soloing is a happy and healthy reminder that one-chord jamming was part and parcel of American alt.rock before the word alt.rock even existed, back when Fugs roamed the Earth and Angus MacLise still turned up for rehearsals, back when these laddies were still twinkles in their daddies' eyes. Of course, it's not all one-chord rock – sometimes they dispense with chords altogether and dive headlong into the primeval murky soundpool, with scant regard for whatever sharp rocks and nasty beasties might be lurking under the surface. Loud, messy, dangerous and glorious. Watch out for a vinyl release shortly too on Smeraldina-Rima.

It's difficult to think of a heavier sounding release in the discographies of either Mouthus or Yellow Swans, and that?s because there hasn?t been one yet. You?d maybe have to play one of each act?s releases simultaneously to generate this kind of sound. The end result of this collaboration, three metallic-spawned Mothras? across the vinyl, feels like punishment Guatanemo-style under an atomic-level autopsy on industrial-damaged rock.

This alliance seems to have taken the Swans usual psychedelic intents and sucked it down to the bare bleached ribs, Mouthus hand cranking loops like a nail-spiked mangle to kick-start the moods. Growing from a piece of reverberating damp-percussion clang ?Asheville? reveals contorted roots of home-carved electro, bizarre echoes of this winking through the mix. This track also has the clearest picture of their individual inputs on the album, the development of the spirograph rock of Yellow Swans? noise territory and Mouthus? vocal dawn of the dead moans both utterly unique.

Scott McKeating

It's Sunday night in Glasgow, and the last night of Triptych - a cultural jamboree that spans five days and three cities, with artists ranging from industrial clankfiends Einsturzende Neubaten to Japanese heart-squeezers Tenniscoats. But tonight, Triptych brings the noise. Loads of it. Free-sax guru Evan Parker, noise-magus John Wiese, Burning Star Core's C. Spencer Yeh and a small but sturdy lorryload of other jazz, improv and noise luminaries gather for a mass collaboration, a ten-strong superteam of Earth's mightiest noisemakers.
Abstract duo Yellow Swans bring shock-and-awe guitar and crowd-control subsonics. Paul Hession and John Edwards are an understated but powerful rhythm section. Hession spends most of the evening silent and immobile, holding back his dextrous polyrhythms until they're 100% appropriate and necessary. Coaxing unfeasible, unimagined sounds from a double bass, Edwards is upfront but non-linear. Skullflower's Culver holds everything together with bouyant, sensuous six-string drones. The front line is held by the Metalux duo, M.V. Carbon's hellish cello and vintage reel-to-reel tape locked in with J. Graf's electronic brutalism and sinewy vocals.

But it's Yeh and Parker who dominate. The former's mesmerising vocal incantations - growling, throat singing and deranged chattering in diabolical tongues - are terrifying, intense, incomprehensible. Parker is often silent, brooding, immersed in the sounds around him. When he does play, his wildly inventive lines, as lyrical as they are abrasive, as chaotic as they are precise, make it immediately obvious why he's such a respected figure.

With so many players and sound sources - most of which seems to be channeled through Wiese's arcane technology to be beaten about the face and neck - Free Noise could so easily have been a total mess. But the collective's diversity is its strength, and the music's dynamism and breadth is remarkable. Invigorating thrash-jazz gives way to ocean-floor frequencies and baby babble. A twisted bass solo is obliterated by broken free rock forms. Massive blocks of pleasingly unpleasant shapeless horror fade into downbeat and elegant drones, all swooshing cymbals and collective third-eye poking. It's absurdly dizzying, alomst to much to take in. But despite the 'noise' tag, the end result is relatively restrained and disciplined - each contributor far more respectful of the others than you might expect from people whose purpose in life is to rupture eardrums.

FLOWER-CORSANO DUO 7" REVIEW: Guitarist Mick Flower (from Vibracathedral Orchestra) and drummer Chris Corsano (from everywhere else) collude here on a prfoundly compacted duo recording - one that almost has the feel of Devotion-era McLaughlin, somehow compressed into an area approximately ten per cent the size of the original. This music isn't airless (far from it - it's actually explosive), but it feels as though it originates in a place where density is the only physical law. Cool.
Jon Dale, The Wire | 2007-04-20