Duh Yellow Swans
Duh Yellow Swans
Duh Yellow Swans
Boomkat Product Review:
Pete Swanson and Gabe Saloman prize Duh Yellow Swans druggily zonked 2003 release from the YS archive for a spit and polish remastering job revealing its itchy mix of drone, BM vocals, and needling drum machines.
Originally dished up on CDr by Collective Jyrk, the 17 year old material of ‘Duh Yellow Swans’ is future-proofed by its amorphous, outlandish nature which stood out from the milieu back then as it does now. The first side is a must-check for any listeners who've been snagged on the solo works of Wolf Eyes’ Nate Young or Aaron Dillowway over the years, offering a grotty development of washed-out drone wheeze and jangling guitars that increasingly bristle and growl, until the addition of sizzling drum machine and throaty BM vocals take it somewhere else entirely, like some grizzled pre-echo of mad screamo-rap fusions to come. The other cut is given more to weathered noise and clattering railroad rhythms, with sleeting shards of white hot distortion and skeletal percussive clacks building in intensity before locking into a nad-crunching swagger.
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Boomkat Product Review:
Pete Swanson and Gabe Saloman prize Duh Yellow Swans druggily zonked 2003 release from the YS archive for a spit and polish remastering job revealing its itchy mix of drone, BM vocals, and needling drum machines.
Originally dished up on CDr by Collective Jyrk, the 17 year old material of ‘Duh Yellow Swans’ is future-proofed by its amorphous, outlandish nature which stood out from the milieu back then as it does now. The first side is a must-check for any listeners who've been snagged on the solo works of Wolf Eyes’ Nate Young or Aaron Dillowway over the years, offering a grotty development of washed-out drone wheeze and jangling guitars that increasingly bristle and growl, until the addition of sizzling drum machine and throaty BM vocals take it somewhere else entirely, like some grizzled pre-echo of mad screamo-rap fusions to come. The other cut is given more to weathered noise and clattering railroad rhythms, with sleeting shards of white hot distortion and skeletal percussive clacks building in intensity before locking into a nad-crunching swagger.
Boomkat Product Review:
Pete Swanson and Gabe Saloman prize Duh Yellow Swans druggily zonked 2003 release from the YS archive for a spit and polish remastering job revealing its itchy mix of drone, BM vocals, and needling drum machines.
Originally dished up on CDr by Collective Jyrk, the 17 year old material of ‘Duh Yellow Swans’ is future-proofed by its amorphous, outlandish nature which stood out from the milieu back then as it does now. The first side is a must-check for any listeners who've been snagged on the solo works of Wolf Eyes’ Nate Young or Aaron Dillowway over the years, offering a grotty development of washed-out drone wheeze and jangling guitars that increasingly bristle and growl, until the addition of sizzling drum machine and throaty BM vocals take it somewhere else entirely, like some grizzled pre-echo of mad screamo-rap fusions to come. The other cut is given more to weathered noise and clattering railroad rhythms, with sleeting shards of white hot distortion and skeletal percussive clacks building in intensity before locking into a nad-crunching swagger.
Boomkat Product Review:
Pete Swanson and Gabe Saloman prize Duh Yellow Swans druggily zonked 2003 release from the YS archive for a spit and polish remastering job revealing its itchy mix of drone, BM vocals, and needling drum machines.
Originally dished up on CDr by Collective Jyrk, the 17 year old material of ‘Duh Yellow Swans’ is future-proofed by its amorphous, outlandish nature which stood out from the milieu back then as it does now. The first side is a must-check for any listeners who've been snagged on the solo works of Wolf Eyes’ Nate Young or Aaron Dillowway over the years, offering a grotty development of washed-out drone wheeze and jangling guitars that increasingly bristle and growl, until the addition of sizzling drum machine and throaty BM vocals take it somewhere else entirely, like some grizzled pre-echo of mad screamo-rap fusions to come. The other cut is given more to weathered noise and clattering railroad rhythms, with sleeting shards of white hot distortion and skeletal percussive clacks building in intensity before locking into a nad-crunching swagger.
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