Dyse

It might be something in the water. The Netherlands isn't specifically known for its rock & roll but it has a history, and whatever the members of Dÿse have been drinking, it's not watered-down Heineken. On its debut album, the duo creates something that sounds like what would have happened in the grunge/metal part of the early '90s if Mr. Bungle had been in the role of Nirvana -- it's poppy, catchy, and somehow more than a little off. It shouldn't be assumed that André Dietrich and Jari Rebelein are anywhere as frenetically off in their music as Mike Patton's crew was -- or Faith No More, for that matter -- but there's a knowing feeling to the performances on the album, where they're interested in putting on a just-tongue-in-cheek-enough show. This can mostly be heard in the vocals, alternately whispered, chanted, yelled, and otherwise delivered in a variety of theatrical ways that play against the overwhelming feeling of "authenticity" otherwise presumed to be the hallmark of groups like Helmet and Quicksand, even while the arrangements are as focused and angry as those bands could make. Songs like "Monstermann," with the nervous skeletal riffing on the vocal breaks rampaging back into a full-on roar otherwise, further play around with these ideas, enjoyably so. The downside is that the album tends to hit a formula by the fourth song in, and while it's still good to listen to from then on, a little more variety wouldn't have hurt it or the band any. - All Music

It might be something in the water. The Netherlands isn't specifically known for its rock & roll but it has a history, and whatever the members of Dÿse have been drinking, it's not watered-down Heineken. On its debut album, the duo creates something that sounds like what would have happened in the grunge/metal part of the early '90s if Mr. Bungle had been in the role of Nirvana -- it's poppy, catchy, and somehow more than a little off. It shouldn't be assumed that André Dietrich and Jari Rebelein are anywhere as frenetically off in their music as Mike Patton's crew was -- or Faith No More, for that matter -- but there's a knowing feeling to the performances on the album, where they're interested in putting on a just-tongue-in-cheek-enough show. This can mostly be heard in the vocals, alternately whispered, chanted, yelled, and otherwise delivered in a variety of theatrical ways that play against the overwhelming feeling of "authenticity" otherwise presumed to be the hallmark of groups like Helmet and Quicksand, even while the arrangements are as focused and angry as those bands could make. Songs like "Monstermann," with the nervous skeletal riffing on the vocal breaks rampaging back into a full-on roar otherwise, further play around with these ideas, enjoyably so. The downside is that the album tends to hit a formula by the fourth song in, and while it's still good to listen to from then on, a little more variety wouldn't have hurt it or the band any. - All Music

“And how does it sound? Well, if you are expecting the usual reference coordinates here and a categorization you can wait until judgement day!”

So runs the helpful press blurb attached to the promo of ‘Lieder sind bruder der revolution’, the bruisingly heavy and quizzically esoteric release from German mentalists Dyse. Actually as far as the two withheld promotional gambits go Dyse helpfully defy categorization, thus saving this humble scribe the job of trying to attach them to one, although reference points do come somewhat more readily to hand. If you recall the mid-90s, that glorious period of music where bands such as Sonic Youth, Fugazi and, most of all, Refused did a fantastic job of terrifying your granny, then you have an idea of what to expect from Dyse. Refreshingly inventive, cheerily old-school in the realm of art-rock and blistering when the mood takes them this is a band for those who enjoy their music heavy, brainy and wilfully abstruse.

Having waxed lyrical quite enough (it just so happens that Dyse are the type of band I love to discover!) what about the album? Does it live up to the twisted heritage of bands such as Refused. Well, the short answer is “hell yes!”. Opening track ‘Zebramann’ is a crushing and vaguely bewildering fusion of jazz and angular punk rock, veering from the rhythmic pulses of the verse to the chorus that foams at the mouth with frenzied screams and the occasional trumpet there is a sheen of perfection that surrounds these noisy loons that comes from years of honing their not inconsiderable skills to a razor point with which to slice the listener into giddy ribbons of noise-induced ecstasy – yes, it’s that good.

‘Festung’ joins the fray with a more straightforweard hardcore approach that Fugazi increasingly employed around their glorious ‘end hits’ period while the guitars manage to rage away satisfyingly yet with a complexity that normally siphons the power awzy from the riffs. Moreover the track somehow manages to sound like two songs in one thanks to an abrupt change in pace and stlye at the mid- point. If, for some reason, you haven’t already rushed to the shop, having heard about the first two tracks then ‘treppe’ should help to swing the deal - a stuttering, monstrous entity that lurches, ever heavier, across your consciousness like a pile driver with a jazz time-signature.

‘Trick’ demonstrates Jari Rebelein’s skills behind the kit, a groovy track that sees interlocking guitars picking out a simplistic melody over complex drums while the vocals do anything except what you expect. ‘Dysenfischdyse’ somehow crossbreeds Fugazi with the pantomime sounds of Fantomas to confusing effect, swerving drunkenly between the former’s bass led assault and the latter’s obnoxious take on vocals. ‘Music’ one imagines, was named ironically as robotic, Germanic voices chant the title at you without there being any hint of, errrm, actual music in the track. However this proves all the better to pave the way for the distorted hell of ‘shop sui’ which sounds simply colossal after the quiet oddness of the previous track. ‘Supermachineeyeon’, aside from being unpronounceable, is also a prettily ambient piece that cruises in on an effect laden guitar part before taking a terrifying side-step into the unknown that precipitates the listener headlong into a blizzard of harassing guitar chords that rage away like a winter hurricane before subsiding leaving you drained and bloody.

‘Krakenduft’ has possibly the strangest opening ever – somewhere between the soundtrack to a film set in the jungle and a Commodore 64 computer game, it’s a thing of distorted, twisted otherworldliness that stuns because it somehow sounds awesome despite its eccentricity. ‘Baubaubau’ follows up the previous track’s avante-industrial sound with the only thing it can – synthesised bird-song leading into a suspiciously stoner-esque riff that, upon the addition of trumpets, morphs into something that sounds scarily close to GWAR (!) Final track ‘Hans Georg’ sees the band introduce disco “whoos” over their strangely syncopated riffs and you end with the feeling that you’ve been terrorised by the bastard son of Ian MacKaye and the Tasmanian Devil.

While reference points exist throughout the music, Dyse work in a way so contrary to expectation that there isn’t a sniff of formula. Undoubtedly this will please some while alienating those music fans who prefer their music to be more ‘traditional’ in its approach. Needless to say, those traditionalists need not apply, but for those who wish to experiment (and believe me, you’ll be glad you did) this is a damn fine album.

Supplementary notes

For those who delight in special editions and the world of the analalogue there is a limited (500 copies only) run of 180g vinyl with a specially printed cover, a run of 777 units in a KidZ case (available only from the Exile on Mainstream site) or as a digi-file edition. To my aged mind the obvious choice is the - Sonic Abuse

“And how does it sound? Well, if you are expecting the usual reference coordinates here and a categorization you can wait until judgement day!”

So runs the helpful press blurb attached to the promo of ‘Lieder sind bruder der revolution’, the bruisingly heavy and quizzically esoteric release from German mentalists Dyse. Actually as far as the two withheld promotional gambits go Dyse helpfully defy categorization, thus saving this humble scribe the job of trying to attach them to one, although reference points do come somewhat more readily to hand. If you recall the mid-90s, that glorious period of music where bands such as Sonic Youth, Fugazi and, most of all, Refused did a fantastic job of terrifying your granny, then you have an idea of what to expect from Dyse. Refreshingly inventive, cheerily old-school in the realm of art-rock and blistering when the mood takes them this is a band for those who enjoy their music heavy, brainy and wilfully abstruse.

Having waxed lyrical quite enough (it just so happens that Dyse are the type of band I love to discover!) what about the album? Does it live up to the twisted heritage of bands such as Refused. Well, the short answer is “hell yes!”. Opening track ‘Zebramann’ is a crushing and vaguely bewildering fusion of jazz and angular punk rock, veering from the rhythmic pulses of the verse to the chorus that foams at the mouth with frenzied screams and the occasional trumpet there is a sheen of perfection that surrounds these noisy loons that comes from years of honing their not inconsiderable skills to a razor point with which to slice the listener into giddy ribbons of noise-induced ecstasy – yes, it’s that good.

‘Festung’ joins the fray with a more straightforweard hardcore approach that Fugazi increasingly employed around their glorious ‘end hits’ period while the guitars manage to rage away satisfyingly yet with a complexity that normally siphons the power awzy from the riffs. Moreover the track somehow manages to sound like two songs in one thanks to an abrupt change in pace and stlye at the mid- point. If, for some reason, you haven’t already rushed to the shop, having heard about the first two tracks then ‘treppe’ should help to swing the deal - a stuttering, monstrous entity that lurches, ever heavier, across your consciousness like a pile driver with a jazz time-signature.

‘Trick’ demonstrates Jari Rebelein’s skills behind the kit, a groovy track that sees interlocking guitars picking out a simplistic melody over complex drums while the vocals do anything except what you expect. ‘Dysenfischdyse’ somehow crossbreeds Fugazi with the pantomime sounds of Fantomas to confusing effect, swerving drunkenly between the former’s bass led assault and the latter’s obnoxious take on vocals. ‘Music’ one imagines, was named ironically as robotic, Germanic voices chant the title at you without there being any hint of, errrm, actual music in the track. However this proves all the better to pave the way for the distorted hell of ‘shop sui’ which sounds simply colossal after the quiet oddness of the previous track. ‘Supermachineeyeon’, aside from being unpronounceable, is also a prettily ambient piece that cruises in on an effect laden guitar part before taking a terrifying side-step into the unknown that precipitates the listener headlong into a blizzard of harassing guitar chords that rage away like a winter hurricane before subsiding leaving you drained and bloody.

‘Krakenduft’ has possibly the strangest opening ever – somewhere between the soundtrack to a film set in the jungle and a Commodore 64 computer game, it’s a thing of distorted, twisted otherworldliness that stuns because it somehow sounds awesome despite its eccentricity. ‘Baubaubau’ follows up the previous track’s avante-industrial sound with the only thing it can – synthesised bird-song leading into a suspiciously stoner-esque riff that, upon the addition of trumpets, morphs into something that sounds scarily close to GWAR (!) Final track ‘Hans Georg’ sees the band introduce disco “whoos” over their strangely syncopated riffs and you end with the feeling that you’ve been terrorised by the bastard son of Ian MacKaye and the Tasmanian Devil.

While reference points exist throughout the music, Dyse work in a way so contrary to expectation that there isn’t a sniff of formula. Undoubtedly this will please some while alienating those music fans who prefer their music to be more ‘traditional’ in its approach. Needless to say, those traditionalists need not apply, but for those who wish to experiment (and believe me, you’ll be glad you did) this is a damn fine album.

Supplementary notes

For those who delight in special editions and the world of the analalogue there is a limited (500 copies only) run of 180g vinyl with a specially printed cover, a run of 777 units in a KidZ case (available only from the Exile on Mainstream site) or as a digi-file edition. To my aged mind the obvious choice is the - Sonic Abuse

When we reviewed Dÿse's previous full-length, our main complaints seemed to be the overwhelming repetitiveness within songs and guitar tones that made playing with an outboard motor seem preferable. The biggest dig was the Groundhog Day repetition hell that plagued the album, with milquetoast riffs drilled away at until the listener faced the choice of taking a bath with a toaster or, umm, pressing stop. The second option seems slightly more sensible. But this, "Lieder sind Brüder der Revolution," is a brand new set of songs, and Dÿse have begun to exterminate the bugs that plagued their self-titled album. For the most part.

Dÿse runs with the same basic template as they did on their prior work, though bubbling with a bit more creativity this time. The band gleefully angles a bright, oddball take on mid-90s post-hardcore. Acts like Fugazi and Refused come to mind, although it's doubtful those groups ever would have considered weird high-pitched vocal boop-dee-boops ("Dysenfischdyse"), or using a bird chirping ("Baubaubau") as a prominent feature in a song.

Gone is the monotonous simplicity of "Dÿse," where one or two riffs would be good enough for an entire song. Guitarist Andre Dietrich instead employs a far wider range of churning, plinking, and ramming with a much improved guitar tone that actually compliments the music, rather than distracts from it. The band can't quite entirely shake off the "is my CD player skipping" mindset, though, as the mind-numbing single chord outro in "Treppe" and "Supermachineeyeon"'s eye-rolling vocal belaboring of the song's title can attest to.

In our last review, we felt the need to compare Dÿse's sound to vehicles in various states of disrepair. Must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Actually, the analogy is more apt in describing the band itself. Like a weekend warrior nursing a junker to glory, Dÿse obviously put a lot of time, effort and thought into their music. They've done some tinkering and, with "Lieder sind Brüder der Revolution," their sound runs a little more smoothly than the last time out. Some more tuning up and they'll be driving a supercharged machine.

C+
- Joe Smith - Plug In Music

When we reviewed Dÿse's previous full-length, our main complaints seemed to be the overwhelming repetitiveness within songs and guitar tones that made playing with an outboard motor seem preferable. The biggest dig was the Groundhog Day repetition hell that plagued the album, with milquetoast riffs drilled away at until the listener faced the choice of taking a bath with a toaster or, umm, pressing stop. The second option seems slightly more sensible. But this, "Lieder sind Brüder der Revolution," is a brand new set of songs, and Dÿse have begun to exterminate the bugs that plagued their self-titled album. For the most part.

Dÿse runs with the same basic template as they did on their prior work, though bubbling with a bit more creativity this time. The band gleefully angles a bright, oddball take on mid-90s post-hardcore. Acts like Fugazi and Refused come to mind, although it's doubtful those groups ever would have considered weird high-pitched vocal boop-dee-boops ("Dysenfischdyse"), or using a bird chirping ("Baubaubau") as a prominent feature in a song.

Gone is the monotonous simplicity of "Dÿse," where one or two riffs would be good enough for an entire song. Guitarist Andre Dietrich instead employs a far wider range of churning, plinking, and ramming with a much improved guitar tone that actually compliments the music, rather than distracts from it. The band can't quite entirely shake off the "is my CD player skipping" mindset, though, as the mind-numbing single chord outro in "Treppe" and "Supermachineeyeon"'s eye-rolling vocal belaboring of the song's title can attest to.

In our last review, we felt the need to compare Dÿse's sound to vehicles in various states of disrepair. Must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Actually, the analogy is more apt in describing the band itself. Like a weekend warrior nursing a junker to glory, Dÿse obviously put a lot of time, effort and thought into their music. They've done some tinkering and, with "Lieder sind Brüder der Revolution," their sound runs a little more smoothly than the last time out. Some more tuning up and they'll be driving a supercharged machine.

C+
- Joe Smith - Plug In Music