YVETTE

Yvette, a river in Southern France has its name stamped on one of Brooklyn's finest musical groups.

Being from Brooklyn isn't easy, especially when you're competing with plenty of other bands within your genre. Thats why Noah Kardos-Fein and Rick Danie of Yvette stand out - they're not ordinary, within their disordinance are the sounds of six instruments simultaneously being ripped to shreds by only two talented musicians.

Into the spotlight comes their four track EP titled YVETTE. It comes jam packed full of some of the most intense songs in existence - each song will slowly rip away at your conscious as your plunged into a mosh pit of experimental rock; shrugging off your opponents within the ring, you're entitled to embark on this EP's adventure as it takes you on a roller coaster of sounds similar to that of Animal Collective.

After listening to all of the tracks on the EP, my head is spinning with excitement as Yvette has absorbed in my brain like water to a sponge. The track we're offering here at InYourSpeakers is "Less." This track has got at least five different sounds coming out of it, with a British punk rock sound to it, dragged into a vat of synthesizers, then dropped onto some of the most ghoulish vocals - as if your brain sponge didn't need a wringing already?

Check these guys out, they're hotter than magma - and the single "Less" is a freebie, if you feel as mashed as I do - give the support and pick up the EP on their Band Camp for the affordable price of $4.79. - inyourspeakers.com

Brooklyn's Yvette is one of those wonderfully noisy bands that make you grab your temples, open your mouth, and yell "AHHHHH!" And that's a compliment. It's fun to yell "AHHHHH!" sometimes.

This duo reminds me a lot of HEALTH, for sure. And like that similarly boisterous band, there are a plethora of mighty melodies underneath this band's massive racket. We're not just talking random feedback turned up to 11 here. Anyone can do that. We're talking carefully crafted song structure, which very few can do. Yes, structure is possible (even essential) in the avant garde experimental noise genre. Believe it.

Yvette's concise-and-quick songs are deafening and distorted and drone-y and drum-y and din-y and dare I say, even kind of danceable. You can bop to this, but you better wear earplugs as you do.

Yvette has played recent shows with such clamor stars as Pterodactyl, Male Bonding, No Joy, The So So Glos and Fiasco.

Good stuff. Good band. Never has grabbing your temples, opening your mouth, and screaming "AHHHH!" been so enjoyable. - www.ohmyrockness.com

I’m up to my second Modelo and admiring for once the smoke free air when Yvette starts to warm up with a pulsing bass that makes my lungs vibrate and the overflowing pedal board glows like a digital Noah’s ark in a sea of filth while the drums beat faster and the guitar makes sounds that no steel string could make and it crushes my ears like an industrial can opener over Brian Wilson’s vocal daydream in a post-opiate field of fury where the sun rises and sets again while the music keeps crawling as army ants in a rainforest where nothing lasts more than a day once it’s dead flesh falls to the jungle floor and high above the bird of paradise screams it’s lover’s call for the world to hear and it becomes so loud that the pigeons rise in great clusters, falling in unison toward the aluminum roofs that guard our heads from the elements of mother earth who never ceases to chant her chorus and clash in the clouds like the gods of ancient Greece who were carved into precious stones and stolen away to other lands where they could be admired by the masses who sit before two pistons that bounce and ignite and keep the engine endlessly churning, spitting out smog and coughing to a stop and the crowd starts to applause but is cut short by the whine of a dying fawn over the rip of a dirt bike and the bass bellows from far below the ocean where baleen whales brave longline nets and the infinite waste of man that plagues the sea like a biblical prophecy ringing through my ears and it’s over and I’m still breathing. - Blogspilt

Yvette are the hard-edged, ultraviolent, spooktacular response to years of the fluttery squish of Animal Collective and HEALTH. Built on the barely legible guitars of Noah Kardos-Fein and the heavily effected drums of Bloomington transplant Rick Daniel, Yvette use the powers of distortion and flange for evil instead of good. Their debut 7" (hand screen-printed, limited to 350) is four songs that turn the noise-clatter of This Heat and the drummier brumble of mid-'00s Liars into a near-industrial churn. Side-B opener "With Fangs" is a steely-eyed Neubaten pulse tweaked out into a squelchy blast of cheery Aa-styled abandon. "Our intention was and is to try to do something a little different from other bands we've been in," says Kardos-Fein. "Sometimes this means finding unconventional ways to make interesting sounds--like wiring contact mics mounted on drums through effects pedals, or using a 'modded' sampling pedal to play back riffs at half speed. 'With Fangs' is a good example of this philosophy in practice."


What is "With Fangs" about?

Noah Kardos-Fein, guitarist/vocalist: Oh man. We never have a particularly easy time with lyrics or song names. It usually takes us forever to come up with a name we can agree on and for me to create lyrics I feel comfortable singing. At one point Rick mentioned that we needed to give one of the parts more energy, that it needed more crashing dissonance, and we needed to play it "with fangs." So that was our working title and it stuck. That got me thinking about creepy people who hang out in bars. I'll leave it at that.

Is there any relation to the Melvins or Nine Inch Nails songs "With Teeth?"

Kardos-Fein: When we wrote "With Fangs" we didn't have the Melvins or NIN in mind. But in retrospect it's funny to me that both the Melvins' "With Teeth" and NIN's "With Teeth" contain pretty cryptic, grotesque, and dark lyrics--like our own "With Fangs".

What inspired it musically?

Rick Daniel/drums and effects: I had been using a synth-tone generator at the time and we found this super low, warm bassy synth note that just rattled the room. We liked the kind of droning low-end foundation that it created and we built the song up from there.

What was the session like?

Kardos-Fein: We spent off nights in our practice space recording while there weren't too many other bands practicing. Actually, if you listen carefully, you can hear a riff or two here and there from the one of the anonymous bands down our hall. There's definitely some bleed on "With Fangs." We recorded the vocals at my apartment, and the walls are pretty thin so you can hear a lot from out in the hall. I remember wondering what the hell the neighbors thought we were doing. Seances? Ritualistic chants?

What's your favorite place to eat in Brooklyn?

Kardos-Fein: I can't think of any favorites, but I think I have to admit that my guilty pleasure is probably the Hana Deli on Metropolitan Ave. in Williamsburg. I say this because most nights, after practice or after a show, I pop in there on my way home to grab a late night dinner or snack. Their sandwich selection is overwhelming, and the vegan/vegetarian ones in particular are delicious. Plus, they have fruit popsicles and those pseudo-homemade fig bars they sell at the counter--two things I have a soft spot for.
Daniel: Hell if I know. - Village Voice / Sound of the City

Yvette are the hard-edged, ultraviolent, spooktacular response to years of the fluttery squish of Animal Collective and HEALTH. Built on the barely legible guitars of Noah Kardos-Fein and the heavily effected drums of Bloomington transplant Rick Daniel, Yvette use the powers of distortion and flange for evil instead of good. Their debut 7" (hand screen-printed, limited to 350) is four songs that turn the noise-clatter of This Heat and the drummier brumble of mid-'00s Liars into a near-industrial churn. Side-B opener "With Fangs" is a steely-eyed Neubaten pulse tweaked out into a squelchy blast of cheery Aa-styled abandon. "Our intention was and is to try to do something a little different from other bands we've been in," says Kardos-Fein. "Sometimes this means finding unconventional ways to make interesting sounds--like wiring contact mics mounted on drums through effects pedals, or using a 'modded' sampling pedal to play back riffs at half speed. 'With Fangs' is a good example of this philosophy in practice."


What is "With Fangs" about?

Noah Kardos-Fein, guitarist/vocalist: Oh man. We never have a particularly easy time with lyrics or song names. It usually takes us forever to come up with a name we can agree on and for me to create lyrics I feel comfortable singing. At one point Rick mentioned that we needed to give one of the parts more energy, that it needed more crashing dissonance, and we needed to play it "with fangs." So that was our working title and it stuck. That got me thinking about creepy people who hang out in bars. I'll leave it at that.

Is there any relation to the Melvins or Nine Inch Nails songs "With Teeth?"

Kardos-Fein: When we wrote "With Fangs" we didn't have the Melvins or NIN in mind. But in retrospect it's funny to me that both the Melvins' "With Teeth" and NIN's "With Teeth" contain pretty cryptic, grotesque, and dark lyrics--like our own "With Fangs".

What inspired it musically?

Rick Daniel/drums and effects: I had been using a synth-tone generator at the time and we found this super low, warm bassy synth note that just rattled the room. We liked the kind of droning low-end foundation that it created and we built the song up from there.

What was the session like?

Kardos-Fein: We spent off nights in our practice space recording while there weren't too many other bands practicing. Actually, if you listen carefully, you can hear a riff or two here and there from the one of the anonymous bands down our hall. There's definitely some bleed on "With Fangs." We recorded the vocals at my apartment, and the walls are pretty thin so you can hear a lot from out in the hall. I remember wondering what the hell the neighbors thought we were doing. Seances? Ritualistic chants?

What's your favorite place to eat in Brooklyn?

Kardos-Fein: I can't think of any favorites, but I think I have to admit that my guilty pleasure is probably the Hana Deli on Metropolitan Ave. in Williamsburg. I say this because most nights, after practice or after a show, I pop in there on my way home to grab a late night dinner or snack. Their sandwich selection is overwhelming, and the vegan/vegetarian ones in particular are delicious. Plus, they have fruit popsicles and those pseudo-homemade fig bars they sell at the counter--two things I have a soft spot for.
Daniel: Hell if I know. - Village Voice / Sound of the City

Below you can stream the self-titled, four-song 7" from Brooklyn's Yvette. It's an explosive, pummeling affair, but its rhythms and turns keep it from getting overly abrasive or taxing. Think Animal Collective detuned, or Black Dice at 2X speed, or Glenn Branca scrambled. Or take a look at the art for the 7" below. That captures Yvette's essence pretty well.

Check out Sound of the City's interview with Yvette from back in September, and grab a physical copy of the 7", which is limited to 350 copies, here. - Eardrumnyc.com

These guys YVETTE submitted their CD for review here a few days ago and... DUDES! This is some serious awesomeness for all the sick noise/shoegazer/industrial fans out there. This band has the rare ability to create noise that's also very musical and textured. Industrial is definitely their primary genre - the clanging drums and mechanical, metallic, and often dissonant guitars play the main characters here - but this dark soundscape becomes an almost cathartic, religious experience because of the choral, ethereal melodies that reference the shoegazer genre. Check out their song "Vibrations", our favorite from the ones we heard on myspace. - The Deli Magazine

Recent sounds from a very strong NYC duo. Guitar and drums, heavy effects on both when prudent, which pushes some kinda of the moment rote-n-beachy moments into the traffic of serious, locked-down industrial pummel and well-organized noise/scrape guitar. I guess for the Brooklyn hood which they rep, they probably need some sort of familiar element to rope in the kids, but once they get them, it’s nothing but aggravated assault all the way. Four songs, and the record gets better as it goes on, YVETTE effectively letting loose of comfort early on and plunging into danger. They do that contact mic on the drums thing that This Heat worked out in “24 Track Loop” and it only adds to the general ‘tude of buttoned up psychotic churn they work out on tracks like “With Fangs.” They can only get better with this sort of mindset powering them, but this audacious debut deserves attention. 350 handsome, numbered copies in silkscreened sleeves. (http://www.myspace.com/yvetteyvetteyvette)
(Doug Mosurock) - Dusted Magazine / Still Single (still-single.tumbr.com)

Recent sounds from a very strong NYC duo. Guitar and drums, heavy effects on both when prudent, which pushes some kinda of the moment rote-n-beachy moments into the traffic of serious, locked-down industrial pummel and well-organized noise/scrape guitar. I guess for the Brooklyn hood which they rep, they probably need some sort of familiar element to rope in the kids, but once they get them, it’s nothing but aggravated assault all the way. Four songs, and the record gets better as it goes on, YVETTE effectively letting loose of comfort early on and plunging into danger. They do that contact mic on the drums thing that This Heat worked out in “24 Track Loop” and it only adds to the general ‘tude of buttoned up psychotic churn they work out on tracks like “With Fangs.” They can only get better with this sort of mindset powering them, but this audacious debut deserves attention. 350 handsome, numbered copies in silkscreened sleeves. (http://www.myspace.com/yvetteyvetteyvette)
(Doug Mosurock) - Dusted Magazine / Still Single (still-single.tumbr.com)

The Mayor of Sound City

When Kikei moved into a Williamsburg rehearsal space, he thought he'd be living music 24/7. Problem is, he was right.
BY NICK SYLVESTER
Wednesday, July 28th, 2010


Sound City, the rehearsal space where I play music, is an all-hours complex located in North Williamsburg near McCarren Park. Technically it is two conjoined buildings, with over thirty separate rooms and bands of every possible shape and temperament. Matt and Kim used to play here, so did Interpol and, according to the Sound City website, Biohazard. The rooms vary in size, but the walls are thin everywhere. If you share drywall with a metal band, or an industrial noise duo, or both like I do, you’re forced on many nights either to cut practice short, or engage in a kitchen-sink type loudness war on par with the final battle scene in Ernest Goes To Camp. Usually the other bands win.

Directly across the hall from my space, and sharing a wall with the same noise duo, lives a 30-year-old man who goes by Kikei. He has no affiliation with Sound City, and his own band, Living Days, rehearses at a different spot. He has lived in the complex by choice since February 2009, and with the management’s blessing since May 2009. ”Eric Clapton locked himself in a room for one year and played guitar, and this was my vision too,” he says.

The Miami native has floppy curly hair and thoughtful glasses. He favors button-down shirts and speaks in well-enunciated sentences with romantic tendencies. He sees bands break up regularly, often before they even get a chance to record. “There are songs from my New York experience I’ll never be able to hear again,” says Kikei. “I can only remember them, or hum them in my mind.”

Kikei goes to sleep around six in the morning, and wakes at around eleven or twelve. Bands rehearse throughout the day, but the building becomes quiet again around 1:30 at night. “When the place is empty, that’s when I play,” he says. “I’ll jam and I’ll go crazy here by myself. I have my good jam every day.” A bathroom outside the Sound City business office on the second floor has a shower head on a wall. Water goes all over the floor, but Kikei has his showers daily.

This past Saturday Kikei invited me into his room. It is a white-walled space with high ceiling painted blue, about 11 feet wide by 14 feet long. A twin mattress sits right on the carpet in the far corner, made up and with a considerable number of pillows on top. The room is clean, with keyboards and guitars along the walls and put away in their cases. There is a lava lamp in a different corner on the ground, and a small black and white Sony monitor that Kikei uses as a night table.
 
The room’s prominent piece is an enormous painting of an angel. It is about five feet wide by eight feet high, and takes up the entirety of one wall. The angel is naked, with large breasts that she covers up with her hands. Her head is thrown back as if she is being assumed back into the heavens. It was painted by Rado Ivanov, the charismatic Bulgarian artist who founded Sound City. “He never liked this painting,” Kikei says.

Two egg crate patches are glued on the other two walls, but they are useless against the outside sounds. The noise duo, a young This Heat-influenced band called Yvette, have just begun rehearsing. The drums seem to be setting off MIDI triggers, which let loose deep, long tremors that reach all the way out into Sound City’s loading dock. ”There is a horrible sound that they can make,” Kikei said. “It sounds like you’re hitting a hammer mallet against a metallic — no, it sounds like Wolverine slicing through metal.” The band has only released one seven-inch, but Kikei is able to hum their forthcoming discography. ”It feels like death creeping up on you,” he says. When it is just too much, he leaves the building and watches the Hasidic men play baseball across the street.

For the times he has no place to go, Kikei has invented what he calls the White Noise Solution. A vintage Fender amplifier someone left behind when moving out of Sound City is connected to his iPhone, which has a program called White Noise. “I pick the one that says airplane travel,” Kikei says. Suddenly the room fills with the thick sound of a plane engine cutting through the air. Kikei pays $950 a month to live in Sound City.

It can be scary at night, he says. “I was walking outside and I went to go to the bathroom. As I’m outside on the loading dock, I start to see these very big drops on the floor. I think it’s blood. It’s so vibrant, so fresh. I start to see this huge trail of blood on the floor. I’m walking, following this trail. These drops are just getting bigger and bigger. They were thick. They had hills. They were hills of puddles. I get to the bathroom and it’s just blood everywhere. I have the pictures. Want to see them?”

Kikei detaches his iPhone from the amplifier. The photos are of the first-floor bathroom, the one most tenants use. The sink and floo - Thirteen.org

The Mayor of Sound City

When Kikei moved into a Williamsburg rehearsal space, he thought he'd be living music 24/7. Problem is, he was right.
BY NICK SYLVESTER
Wednesday, July 28th, 2010


Sound City, the rehearsal space where I play music, is an all-hours complex located in North Williamsburg near McCarren Park. Technically it is two conjoined buildings, with over thirty separate rooms and bands of every possible shape and temperament. Matt and Kim used to play here, so did Interpol and, according to the Sound City website, Biohazard. The rooms vary in size, but the walls are thin everywhere. If you share drywall with a metal band, or an industrial noise duo, or both like I do, you’re forced on many nights either to cut practice short, or engage in a kitchen-sink type loudness war on par with the final battle scene in Ernest Goes To Camp. Usually the other bands win.

Directly across the hall from my space, and sharing a wall with the same noise duo, lives a 30-year-old man who goes by Kikei. He has no affiliation with Sound City, and his own band, Living Days, rehearses at a different spot. He has lived in the complex by choice since February 2009, and with the management’s blessing since May 2009. ”Eric Clapton locked himself in a room for one year and played guitar, and this was my vision too,” he says.

The Miami native has floppy curly hair and thoughtful glasses. He favors button-down shirts and speaks in well-enunciated sentences with romantic tendencies. He sees bands break up regularly, often before they even get a chance to record. “There are songs from my New York experience I’ll never be able to hear again,” says Kikei. “I can only remember them, or hum them in my mind.”

Kikei goes to sleep around six in the morning, and wakes at around eleven or twelve. Bands rehearse throughout the day, but the building becomes quiet again around 1:30 at night. “When the place is empty, that’s when I play,” he says. “I’ll jam and I’ll go crazy here by myself. I have my good jam every day.” A bathroom outside the Sound City business office on the second floor has a shower head on a wall. Water goes all over the floor, but Kikei has his showers daily.

This past Saturday Kikei invited me into his room. It is a white-walled space with high ceiling painted blue, about 11 feet wide by 14 feet long. A twin mattress sits right on the carpet in the far corner, made up and with a considerable number of pillows on top. The room is clean, with keyboards and guitars along the walls and put away in their cases. There is a lava lamp in a different corner on the ground, and a small black and white Sony monitor that Kikei uses as a night table.
 
The room’s prominent piece is an enormous painting of an angel. It is about five feet wide by eight feet high, and takes up the entirety of one wall. The angel is naked, with large breasts that she covers up with her hands. Her head is thrown back as if she is being assumed back into the heavens. It was painted by Rado Ivanov, the charismatic Bulgarian artist who founded Sound City. “He never liked this painting,” Kikei says.

Two egg crate patches are glued on the other two walls, but they are useless against the outside sounds. The noise duo, a young This Heat-influenced band called Yvette, have just begun rehearsing. The drums seem to be setting off MIDI triggers, which let loose deep, long tremors that reach all the way out into Sound City’s loading dock. ”There is a horrible sound that they can make,” Kikei said. “It sounds like you’re hitting a hammer mallet against a metallic — no, it sounds like Wolverine slicing through metal.” The band has only released one seven-inch, but Kikei is able to hum their forthcoming discography. ”It feels like death creeping up on you,” he says. When it is just too much, he leaves the building and watches the Hasidic men play baseball across the street.

For the times he has no place to go, Kikei has invented what he calls the White Noise Solution. A vintage Fender amplifier someone left behind when moving out of Sound City is connected to his iPhone, which has a program called White Noise. “I pick the one that says airplane travel,” Kikei says. Suddenly the room fills with the thick sound of a plane engine cutting through the air. Kikei pays $950 a month to live in Sound City.

It can be scary at night, he says. “I was walking outside and I went to go to the bathroom. As I’m outside on the loading dock, I start to see these very big drops on the floor. I think it’s blood. It’s so vibrant, so fresh. I start to see this huge trail of blood on the floor. I’m walking, following this trail. These drops are just getting bigger and bigger. They were thick. They had hills. They were hills of puddles. I get to the bathroom and it’s just blood everywhere. I have the pictures. Want to see them?”

Kikei detaches his iPhone from the amplifier. The photos are of the first-floor bathroom, the one most tenants use. The sink and floo - Thirteen.org