Dylan Nyoukis

Dylan Nyoukis’ Carrion Hut LP now available. 180g vinyl, hand-screenprinted sleeves. Limited edition of 500 (numbered).

Here’s what Foxy Digitalis has to say about it…

With Dylan Nyoukis (of Chocolate Monk/Blood Stereo) at the helm you should already know it’s out there, the only question is how far out there this one is. This five-tracker of vocal-based flummox initially seems to have been built from the type of sounds heard on bleached-white wards and farms, but deeper listens end up on the border between metamachinery and man – a tetsuo snore with a dose of the flu. Nyoukis makes a music that’s so intrinsically human it feels like you’re listening from inside of his jaws. “Carrion Hut” is a meat-mulch of an album, it’s a selection of field recordings of meat burrowing and it’s the leaked pus of worker bees. Sounds range from the describable (gloveless hands messing with steaming innards) to the impossible (Dylan as a match-striking dog), his range of squelch and rumble unconstrained by bodily functions. Most bizarre of all though is a strand of sound that resembles, at least to these ears, that African choir that Paul Simon hoodwinked back on “Gracelands”. Accident or design – does it matter?’ 9/10

And here’s what The Wire has to say about it…

The revered beard brandishes pick ‘n’ mix. Carrion Hut, which first appeared as a limited CD-R tucked marsupially inside the art edition of Nyoukis’ Inside Wino Lodge LP, collects five very different pieces recorded between 2003 and 2007. “The Frosted Growth” finds Nyoukis in Dubbletwee mode, snarling and barking at his multitracked self. While on the side-long “Late Night Vocal Gravy”, Nyoukis is at his most composerly. The real diamond, though, is the text piece “Strange New Ache”, originally written for Inside Wino Lodge but left off the final cut. The text – read out loud, inverted and mangled, by a half dozen-strong assemble of male and female voices runs. “These strange new muscles have started to ache, these new muscles won’t stop aching…”. Isn’t this what’s going on in Nyoukis’s lunatic sound poems? Psychosis felt as physical pain, delusions of the mind transferred into inexplicable sensation, expressible only in gibbers and howls. Nick Richardson